Page 24 of Fated for Flames

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Wednesday meant a full afternoon of Tactical Defense Training.

I was excited.

Last Wednesday, I’d crumpled after the first lap. This time, I was determined to last all three hours.

Pride surged through me as I completed the fifth lap around the field. My feet thumped rhythmically against the hard-packed dirt, my breath steady and controlled. I felt stronger and more capable.

That day’s class was all about mastering the obstacle course. It came into view, looming like a giant beast ready to swallow me whole. It was a monstrosity of ropes, nets, and poles, a labyrinth designed for people with bodies built for such tasks. For someone of my height and size, it seemed like an insurmountable challenge.

Chad was there, though, helping me, encouraging me, amid the sneers and laughter from the other shifters. His eyes were alight with unwavering belief as he sidled up next to me, his usual grin replaced with a determined set to his jaw.

“Remember,” he advised, “it’s not about brute strength. It’s about agility and strategy.”

I took in his words, feeling them seep into my resolve. Nodding, I tightened my grip on the first rope, feeling the rough fibers dig into my palms. A chilling sensation ran through me. When I turned, Ryker’s eyes were locked onto mine with crazed intensity, as if he wanted to obliterate me with his gaze alone.

“Ready?” Chad asked, snapping me back to the task at hand.

“As I’ll ever be,” I replied.

The jeers escalated as I tackled the first obstacle, my body awkwardly navigating through the ropes. Every snicker was a stab at my determination, but I pressed on, focusing on Chad’s steady voice guiding me through each challenge. My muscles screamed in protest, but I pushed past it, gritting my teeth as I crawled under nets and climbed over poles.

By the time I stumbled over the finish line, gasping for breath and smeared with dirt and sweat, silence greeted me. There were a few surprised expressions. Granted, Chad had helped me a lot, but for a moment, amid the shock etched on the faces of the other shifters, I felt a spark of triumph.

Chad clapped a hand on my shoulder, his eyes sparkling with unspoken pride. “You did it, little witch.”

A familiar stern voice rang out over the field, drawing the attention of all the students. “Impressive, Everhart.”

I swiveled around, squinting against the sun to see Professor Tamsin striding toward me, her brown eyes scanning my disheveled state. The hard lines of her face softened ever so slightly as she stopped before me.

“You’ve managed to complete the obstacle course on your first try,” she commented, her tone as gruff as ever.

Her gaze flitted to Chad, who gave her a casual salute, his other hand still resting reassuringly on my shoulder. I barely suppressed a smile.

Tamsin’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t use any of your magic by any chance?”

“No, of course not, Professor,” I answered honestly.

“Very well. Good job.” She then added, “Chad, you’re doing great with her. Continue the good work. We’ll start sparring next week.”

It felt like a small victory, one that had nothing to do with magic or witches or coven politics. This was mine alone—well, mine and Chad’s.

Tamsin didn’t linger after her brief praise, returning to the head of the field with an order for everyone to resume their exercises. The shifters scattered back into their groups, some casting curious glances at me.

As I caught my breath, Chad nudged me with his elbow. “How does it feel to impress Tamsin?” he teased.

“Like I might collapse any second now,” I replied with a weak laugh.

Chad’s laughter filled the air as he threw an arm around my shoulders. “Well then,” he said, “let’s get you cleaned up and fed before you keel over on me.”

As we walked away from the obstacle course once class was finished, I felt happy.

I’d done it.

With Chad’s help, it was still a victory.

And it was only the beginning.

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