A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs-Chapter 202: Even in My Dreams

{Elira}

~**^**~

Lennon barked a laugh, but I caught the flicker of respect in his eyes.

Then, Rennon moved first—his strike clean, controlled, aimed not at strength but at placement. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

He ducked beneath Lennon’s arm and swept his leg lightly—a manoeuvre that would’ve floored anyone less agile. Lennon stumbled, flames flaring in reflex before he caught himself.

Zenon raised a hand. "Enough."

The air stilled instantly. Lennon exhaled, flames fading from his arms, while Rennon straightened, expression composed as ever.

"That," Zenon said, looking at me now, "is balance. Fire and foresight. One fights from instinct. The other from knowledge. Learn both."

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from the two brothers. Lennon winked at me, his grin returning. "See, little wolf? Lesson one — never underestimate a man who can see your next mistake before you make it."

Rennon chuckled under his breath. "And lesson two, never underestimate a man too stubborn to stop trying."

They exchanged a look that was half challenge, half brotherly affection and suddenly, I understood what Zenon meant by balance.

But when his eyes finally shifted from his brothers to me, my heart skipped a beat.

"Your turn."

My pulse thudded harder. I swallowed and stepped forward, the dirt cool beneath my boots.

The air still carried the faint scent of smoke and ozone from Lennon’s flames, sharp against the quiet woods.

Zenon’s tone was steady and commanding without needing to raise his voice. "You have seen what instinct and foresight look like in motion. Now, we test endurance and control. You will fight until I say stop."

I nodded, even though my stomach was already tightening.

"Elira, use what you saw," Rennon said, stepping aside with that calm reassurance that always managed to ground me. "Don’t rush, just anticipate and feel the rhythm."

"And don’t overthink it," Lennon added with a grin. "You think too much, you burn out before I even get to tease you."

Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips. It faded when Zenon shifted his stance.

He didn’t look like he was going easy on me.

"Begin."

He moved first, like a blur of speed and precision that made the air split around us. I barely managed to dodge, but his next move came faster.

My arms blocked, my body twisted, my breath caught. He wasn’t fighting to hurt; rather, he was fighting to push.

My muscles screamed within minutes. I ducked another blow, heart pounding, trying to remember Rennon’s grace, Lennon’s relentlessness, and Zenon’s composure. But every time I blinked, Zenon was there again, forcing me to react.

"You are too reactive," he said, his voice even. "Predict me."

Predict him? My breath came ragged. My body felt heavy.

Just then, something inside me shifted. Selene’s voice was sharp, steady. It echoed faintly in my mind.

’Don’t think. Feel. Listen to the movement, not your fear.’

So, I did. I stopped trying to guess and started feeling.

The crunch of Zenon’s boots as he moved, the faint change in air pressure when he struck, all started to make sense, like small, invisible cues whispering their intent.

The next time he lunged, I moved just before he did. My palm connected lightly with his forearm, redirecting it aside. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the first time I had met him halfway.

"Better," Zenon murmured.

Lennon’s whistle broke the silence. "Look at you, little wolf. You might just survive Founders Day after all."

"Don’t distract her," Zenon snapped, though I saw the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes before he came at me again.

Minutes blurred. My body ached, my lungs burned, but I kept moving, dodging, countering. I could feel the faint warmth under my skin again—that familiar heat that once frightened me.

This time, I didn’t let it rule me.

Zenon struck again—faster, testing me. I caught his wrist mid-air, my arm trembling, the spark of heat curling through my fingertips.

The moment stretched, and I saw that faint surprise flicker in his gaze.

Then, he pulled back and said quietly, "That’s enough."

I dropped my hands, panting hard, sweat dripping down my temples. My entire body trembled, but it wasn’t from fear this time. It was from the raw energy.

Zenon walked closer, his expression unreadable. Then, in that calm, low voice, he said, "You are learning to master it. Good. You will need every ounce of that control next weekend."

I caught my breath, the back of my neck slick with sweat as his shadow fell over me where I knelt on the forest ground.

His expression was calm—too calm—the kind of calm that only came before he demanded more.

"Now that you have fully learned to endure pain," he said, voice steady but sharp as tempered steel. "You will learn to endure power next."

My stomach dipped. I actually thought today’s lessons were over. But there was more?

He turned slightly. "Lennon."

From a few paces behind him, Lennon stepped forward, his lips already curved in that reckless grin that always spelt trouble.

"Finally," he drawled, rolling his shoulders. "Was wondering when I would get to play."

Play, he called it.

I had seen the heat in his palms before when he was angry—gold-red flames that flickered to life like extensions of his emotions. Now, he didn’t bother hiding them.

The air shimmered faintly around his hands, hot enough that I could feel it even from several feet away.

Zenon’s tone was all command. "Use your power, Elira. Don’t hide it. Better to lose control here than on that stage."

My throat tightened. The last time I lost control, I nearly hurt Lennon. And now he wanted me to risk it?

"Try to breathe more and focus," Rennon said from the side, his voice quiet but grounding, like the steady hum of distant thunder. "This part of the training is very important."

I inhaled, the cold air stinging my lungs, and nodded.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Lennon teased, tossing a flame between his hands. "Try not to scream."

Zenon gave a curt nod. "Begin."

The first burst of fire came fast—too fast.

It shot toward me in a perfect arc, heat roaring as it tore through the air. I dove to the left, rolled across the ground, and barely escaped the next one that hissed past.

The fire missed me by inches, but I could still feel it—hot and wild and alive.

"Evade the source, not the heat!" Zenon’s voice cut through the chaos. "Anticipate—don’t retreat!"

I forced my breathing steady and studied Lennon’s movements, how his eyes flickered before each throw, how his stance shifted subtly when he was preparing to strike.

The next time he moved, I ducked under the blaze and rolled behind a tree trunk, the bark searing under the residual heat.

"Good," Zenon said. "Now think, not react."

Lennon laughed, his flames circling him like lazy serpents. "She’s learning fast. Maybe too fast."

He flung another flame—not big, but sharp and controlled. It grazed my arm, scorching the fabric of my sleeve. I gasped; the sting was immediate.

And just like that, the power inside me surged, clawing upward, begging to be unleashed.

My vision flashed gold for a heartbeat.

"Don’t," I heard Rennon’s voice—low, warning. "Centre yourself and command it."

I clenched my fists, forcing the wild heat in my veins to settle, to listen. The humming grew steady—less frantic, more... alive.

The world sharpened, sound and movement blending into rhythm. I rose slowly, facing Lennon again.

He grinned. "That’s it. There’s the fire I was hoping for."

His next flame was larger and more dangerous. But this time, instead of dodging, I moved through it—sliding low, feeling the energy graze over my back like molten air.

Then I spun, every muscle coiled, every instinct awake.

"Now counter," Zenon’s voice commanded.

I drew on the hum inside me, pulled it into my palms until I could feel the warmth gathering there, trembling like liquid light.

Then, with a sharp exhale, I thrust my hands forward to push the energy outward.

The result was a golden ripple—heatless but powerful—that collided with Lennon’s flames midair and shattered them into sparks. They scattered harmlessly around us, fading like fireflies.

Lennon blinked, genuinely surprised.

"Well, I will be damned," he said with a low whistle. "Didn’t think you would catch up to me this quickly."

I dropped to my knees, breathing hard, my arms trembling from the effort. Sweat rolled down my temple, but I was... smiling. For once, I hadn’t lost control. I had mastered it.

Rennon crouched beside me, handing me his flask. "Easy," he murmured. "That was perfect. You contained it."

Zenon stepped closer, his expression unreadable as always—but his eyes lingered, assessing, before he finally nodded.

"Good. You’ve learned to use what is yours without letting it own you."

Lennon smirked and crouched beside me. "Told you, sweetheart. You and fire—meant to be."

Zenon shot him a warning glare, but for once, he didn’t correct him. He only looked at me and said, evenly,

"You’ve got less than seven days. Your opponents will all come at you with powers they have had years to master. You don’t need to be stronger than them. You just need to last longer."

I met his gaze, still catching my breath.

"Especially on Founders Day, that’s when strength and control will both be tested," he continued, tone low and firm. "So, keep practicing. Even in your dreams."