The first thing he did was take everything away from her.

There was no warning, no preparation, and no transition into anything that could be called training. One moment Elara was standing in the quiet tension of the clearing, still adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of this place, and the next something inside her shifted so violently that it stole the air from her lungs.

The Moon.

It did not disappear entirely, but it withdrew with such force that the absence of it felt louder than its presence ever had. The warmth beneath her skin vanished, along with the quiet awareness that had been watching with her, guiding her in ways she had not fully understood until now. It felt as though a part of her had been severed, not cleanly.

Elara staggered, her hand instinctively pressing against her chest as if she could hold whatever had just been torn loose.

"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice sharp, edged with something dangerously close to panic.

The man did not move. "I removed your advantage," he said calmly.

Elara’s eyes narrowed, her breathing uneven as she tried to steady herself. "That’s not an advantage. That’s part of me."

"No," he replied without hesitation. "It’s something using you."

The words struck deeper than she expected. Not because she believed him, but because part of her feared he might not be entirely wrong.

Before she could respond, he moved. There was no visible preparation. One moment he stood at a distance, and the next his hand was wrapped around her wrist, stopping her movement before her body had even registered what was happening.

Elara reacted instinctively, twisting and pulling back, trying to break free, but his grip tightened just enough to make resistance meaningless.

"Without it," he continued, his voice low and controlled, "what are you?"

Her pulse surged, anger rising fast enough to burn away the last of her disorientation.

"I’m still here," she shot back.

His gaze remained steady. "Are you?"

The question lingered longer than it should have, slipping past her defenses in a way that unsettled her more than his grip. Then he pushed her. Not violently, not enough to injure her, but enough to send her stumbling backward, her footing slipping against the uneven ground as she barely caught herself before falling.

Frustration flared instantly. "Is this your idea of teaching?" she asked, her voice tight.

"No," he said. "This is me deciding if you’re worth teaching."

Something in her chest hardened at that. Elara straightened slowly, brushing dirt from her hands before lifting her gaze to meet his again, steady and unyielding. "Then maybe you should try harder," she said.

For the briefest moment, something flickered in his expression. It was not approval, not quite, but it was enough to tell her she had not disappointed him. Then he attacked again. This time she was ready. Or at least, she thought she was.

She moved the moment he did, her body reacting faster than her thoughts, but the difference between anticipation and reality became painfully clear. He caught her again, this time by the shoulder, turning her movement against her and forcing her down to one knee before she could recover.

Pain shot through her leg, sharp and immediate. Her breath caught.

"You rely on what you feel," he said above her, his tone even. "Not on what you are."

Elara clenched her teeth, forcing herself to look up at him. "Then tell me what I am."

He didn’t answer. Instead, he released her. The sudden absence of pressure made her sway slightly, her body struggling to adjust.

"Stand up," he said.

Elara pushed herself to her feet without hesitation. Her muscles protested, her balance still imperfect, but she refused to let it show.

"If you’re waiting for me to break," she said, her voice steadier now, "you’re going to be disappointed."

"I’m not waiting," he replied calmly. "I’m making it happen."

The next strike came faster. This time it wasn’t a grab. It was a controlled hit, strong enough to knock the air from her lungs as she stumbled backward, her body failing to absorb the impact in time. For a moment, everything sharpened.

Without the Moon’s presence anchoring her, every sensation felt raw and immediate. The ground beneath her feet, the tension in her muscles, the rhythm of her breathing, all of it pressed against her awareness without filter or protection.

Good.. The thought rose from somewhere deeper, something steadier than fear. Let it be..

Elara moved again, this time without trying to predict him. She stopped chasing control and instead allowed her body to respond as it could, imperfectly but honestly, adjusting with each mistake rather than resisting it.

She misjudged distances. She reacted too late. She stumbled more than once. But each time, she corrected faster. Each time, she learned. Slowly, something began to change.

Her movements were still flawed, still slower than his, but they were becoming hers in a way they had not been before. She was no longer relying on something guiding her from within. She was choosing.

Her next movement landed. Not as a strike, but as a connection. Her hand caught his wrist, stopping him for a fraction of a second. It was brief, almost insignificant, yet it changed something. For the first time, a flicker of surprise crossed his expression.

He pulled away immediately, faster this time, but the moment had already happened.

Elara’s breathing grew heavier, her body beginning to register the strain, yet beneath the exhaustion something else surfaced. Control.. Not perfect but real.

He stepped back slightly, watching her with a different kind of attention now. "Again," he said.

Elara did not hesitate. This time, she moved first.

Rowan had not intended to move closer. From the moment the Moon’s presence had been stripped from her, he had felt the shift. He had seen the way her balance changed, the way her strength became sharper yet more exposed, more vulnerable without the protection she had unknowingly relied on.

He stayed where he was because he understood what this was. Because interfering would ruin it. But understanding did not make it easier to watch. Each time she hit the ground, each time her body failed to keep up with what she was trying to become, something in him tightened. Not doubt, never that, but something closer to restraint.

He trusted her. He trusted that she would stand again. But he also saw the edge. The moment where standing would begin to cost more than she could give.

Elara felt that edge before she could name it. It did not arrive suddenly. It crept in through small failures, through delayed reactions and the growing weight in her limbs. Her movements slowed, just slightly. Her timing slipped. And that was enough.

He caught her again, this time driving her down harder, her body hitting the ground with enough force to knock the breath from her lungs completely. The world tilted. Sound faded into something distant and hollow. For a moment, there was nothing but pressure, silence, and the overwhelming urge to stop. To let go.. To give in to the exhaustion that was pulling at her from every direction.

Her fingers dug into the dirt beneath her, grounding herself in something real, something solid enough to hold onto. The word did not leave her lips, but it anchored her. She pushed with will not with strength, because there was very little of that left.

Her breath returned in a sharp, uneven inhale. Her body resisted, every muscle protesting as she forced herself to move, to roll, to break his hold just enough to create space. Her movements were rough and unpolished. But they were hers.

She rose slowly, unsteady but standing. The man watched her differently now. Not as someone testing her limits, but as someone observing what she chose to do with them.

"Good," he said quietly.

Elara’s chest rose and fell unevenly as she met his gaze. "I’m not done," she said.

The air shifted. The Moon returned, not fully, not with its earlier dominance, but present enough to be felt. It did not take control. It did not intervene. It watched. Because this part belonged to her.

Rowan stepped forward then, just once, closing the distance enough to make his presence undeniable without crossing into interference. Elara felt it. Not his touch, but the steadiness of him, the quiet certainty that he was there. And something inside her settled, not into dependence, but into something stronger. Trust!

She steadied her breathing, drawing in just enough strength to lift her gaze again.

"Again," she said.

The man’s eyes flicked briefly toward Rowan, acknowledging his presence, before returning to her. This time, when he smiled, there was no restraint in it. And when he moved—

There was no hesitation left.