Page 22 of Bound By the Beast Man

DIANA

W e move through the mountains, a silent, two-person army against a hostile world.

Corvak’s vow to help me find answers about my family, about Ingrid, has changed everything.

A new and unfamiliar feeling has taken root in my soul, displacing the despair that has lived there for so long.

It is purpose, I am not just running from a terrible past; I am moving toward a fragile, desperate future.

A future that might still hold my sister.

My mind is consumed with thoughts of her.

I replay my last memories of Ingrid, no longer as a source of pure, unadulterated pain, but as clues to a mystery I must solve.

I see her on the porch, her blue eyes sparkling with dreams of the harvest festival.

I see the Purna with silver hair grab her, her expression one of cold appraisal, not simple malice.

The words Corvak and I have shared echo in my mind.

The others they killed, but her they took .

Why? Was it because she was younger? Or was it something else?

This burning need for answers solidifies into a cold, hard resolve that settles deep in my bones.

Hiding and running, cowering behind my magical ward, will never bring me closer to finding her.

To get answers, I cannot be a victim. I cannot be prey.

I must become a hunter. I must become strong enough to face the Purna not as their escaped specimen, but as a threat they are forced to acknowledge.

That night, as we sit by the fire, I know I can no longer be silent about the shift that has happened within me.

Corvak needs to understand that my goal is no longer simply survival.

I wait until we have eaten our meager meal of roasted roots.

Then, I look him directly in the eye, my gaze unwavering.

“I don’t just want to hide from them, Corvak,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “Hiding won’t tell me where they took Ingrid, or why. I need to be strong enough to face them, to make them give me the answers I need.”

The words hang in the air between us. I see a flicker of surprise in his bronze-gold eyes, but it is followed by a deep, warrior’s understanding. He sees the change in me, the hardening of my resolve into a sharp, focused point.

“Rage is a dangerous weapon, Diana,” he said. “It can burn the one who wields it as easily as their enemy.”

“This is more than rage,” I countered, my own voice hardening. “This is a quest. Just like yours. You fight for your people. I fight for my sister.”

I lean forward, my hands clenched into fists.

“You are a warrior. You have been training your entire life to fight. I have been a prisoner. But I have a weapon inside of me, this… this magic. Teach me, Corvak. Teach me not just how to control it, but how to use it. Teach me how to be a warrior, so I can find my sister.”

Corvak studies me for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable in the flickering firelight. I see the conflict in him, the protector warring with the teacher. But he also sees the iron resolve in my eyes, the purpose that now gives me strength. Finally, he gives a single, slow nod.

“Control comes from purpose, not from emotion,” he said, his voice grave. “Your rage is a wild fire. Your love for your sister, your need to find her… let that be the anchor for your power.”

He has me sit cross-legged before the fire, my back straight, my hands resting on my knees.

“Close your eyes,” he commands. “Find the power inside you. Do not think of the Purna, do not think of your anger. Think only of Ingrid. Let your need to find her be the vessel for your magic.”

I do as he says. I push away the burning, chaotic feelings of hate and fear.

Instead, I fill my mind with an image of my sister’s smiling face, with the sound of her laughter, with the fierce, protective love that fills my heart.

I reach for the power inside me, not with a demand, but with a focused plea.

And this time, it answers. It is not a wild, uncontrollable flood, but a steady, warm current that flows through me.

I channel it, as he has taught me, down my arm and into the palm of my hand.

I open my eyes. Floating in my palm is a small, sustained ball of soft, white light, a tiny, defiant star in the overwhelming darkness of the mountains.

I look at this small manifestation of my power, and I see it not as a curse, or even just as a weapon.

I see it as a key. It is the key that might unlock the truth of my sister's fate.