Page 42

Chief Styles Sawyer

Zorion

Four months later…

The air was crisp, the sky painted with streaks of gold and violet as the first rays of dawn crested the horizon.

Zorion breathed in the saltiness from the ocean where he balanced in a coiled position on a jagged rock.

The gentle crashing of the waves against the shore and the whispers of the wind through the canopy of trees lured him into deeper meditation.

The past couple of months had been even more laborious than he’d anticipated.

He and Valor were beyond exhausted by the end of the day. So tired and worn that they hadn’t made love since that first night.

Zorion could barely manage a kiss before he passed out on Valor’s chest.

But at least his lover was learning to fight. For the last sixteen weeks, Omega had made him run from sunup to sundown, into the trees, then back down.

He had a persistent burn in his thighs and calves, and his lungs ached with the undeniable presence of his own mortality.

Yet, he embraced the pain, welcomed it because it was nothing compared to what he and Valor had escaped.

Omega’s smooth voice broke the silence an hour later.

“It’s time for you to master your hawk, Zorion.”

Zorion straightened, feeling the flexibility of his limbs, the soreness he felt clear to his core.

Finally!

He turned to face Omega, who was remarkably still and balanced on one foot in his coiled snake stance.

Omega’s gray eyes were lighter in the morning and slate gray at night. He regarded Zorion with a glare that wasn’t quite approval but not dismissive either.

“In nature,” Omega said, stepping down, “the snake and hawk are bound in a dance as old as time. The snake patiently watches from the underbrush, and the hawk is the sky’s assassin. They both do not strike until certain.”

Omega walked slowly around him, his voice calm and centering.

“Nature does not rush, yet it accomplishes everything. The river does not force its way through stone. It carves a path over time. The hawk is the same. It perches until the perfect moment.”

The same bird of prey Zorion saw every day soared high above them, his wings spread wide, gliding on the wind.

Like always, his eyes followed its path, captivated by the raptor’s silent grace.

Omega also observed the effortless motion. “It’s a steppe eagle, native to this land.”

It was stunning with its rich brown body, broad chest, and grayish wings.

“You see it? It circles close because it senses you. A species knows its own. It recognizes the shift in the air, the presence of something alike yet different. This is no coincidence, Zorion. We don’t have many hawks on this side of the world, but still, the eagle acknowledges you as a part of its world. He knows you are more than a mere human.”

Zorion felt something stir inside him as the eagle made another slow pass, its sharp gaze never leaving his.

Omega’s voice was steady. “To become one with your hawk, you must do more than think like one. You must feel the world as it does. This sky is your domain. Use it.”

Zorion absorbed the words before asking, “How?”

Omega gave him a flicker of a cunning smile. “A hawk’s attack is death descending from above, striking with speed and lethal intent. It is an unseen kill, a predator that wins before their prey knows they’ve lost. You must learn to see the world from above. The hawk knows that when it strikes, it will win.”

Zorion nodded, the weight of the lesson sinking deep into his bones. He’d been fast at the Ravens facility, but this was something else. This was an understanding that his speed was a weapon, not just an advantage.

Omega moved faster than Zorion’s eyes could track. One moment, he was standing before him, the next, Zorion felt the shift of the air, then the strike before he could react.

A sharp tap against his wrist sent his arm jerking back, then a twist of force at his knee almost took him to the ground. He just caught himself, his breath hitching as he registered just how fast Omega had moved.

“Shit, dammit.”

Zorion clenched his jaw, frustration and exhilaration clashing within him. He knew he was fast, but Omega was a ghost, a blur of motion he couldn’t anticipate. Every failed counterstrike, every missed block, only pushed him to work harder.

“Again,” Omega demanded.

They’d been going at it for hours, and the sun was beginning to set, but he was surprised that he didn’t want to stop.

Zorion steadied himself, winding his body into a curved stance, his muscles taut with readiness. He focused, trying to see Omega’s movements before they came.

This time, he took a deep breath, clearing his mind. Then Omega struck.

Zorion fought to keep up as Omega shifted his footing. He pivoted in time to intercept Omega’s wrist before the strike landed on his bicep.

He shot forward with his own counterattack and aimed a quick jab at Omega’s ribs, but the master twisted out of the way, the blow grazing him.

Dammit.

Omega moved again, faster than thought, and swept Zorion’s legs from beneath him. He twisted in midair, using his momentum to flip back onto his feet, landing in a crouch. His heart pounded, but he felt it now, his instincts honing, his body learning.

Good, but not good enough,” Omega muttered.

Omega launched, his hand striking out like a snake’s fangs.

Zorion twisted barely evading the hit. He countered with a sharp palm strike, aiming for Omega’s chest, but his teacher dropped and swept his legs from under him then scurried across the ground in a blur, like a reptile.

Zorion leaped and flipped over Omega, his breath quickening but controlled. His mind raced. He had to be better. He had to harness his hawk.

Omega straightened, narrowed his eyes, and nodded. “Now, we take to the trees.”

Zorion chased him, his legs burning as they sprinted into the forest.

Omega leaped onto a thick branch, balancing with little effort before climbing higher. Zorion followed, the ascent feeling natural. The higher he climbed, the more the world made sense.

Omega motioned toward a clearing where a wooden dummy stood, representing an enemy.

“It’s time you strike from above, unseen. Watch.”

Omega darted along the branches, swift and silent. In a fluid motion, he snapped out a kick sending the dummy flying across the ground in a cloud of dust and landed in a crouched position.

Zorion took a deep inhale and positioned himself as Omega had.

He focused, feeling the wind against his face, the world moving below him. He waited until the perfect moment, then he launched.

His body soared through the air, the wind rushing past his ears. He twisted mid-flight, mimicking Omega’s strike. His foot connected, splintering the dummy at its center before he landed lightly on his feet.

Omega nodded, approval shining in his eyes. “Again.”

Zorion grinned.