Chapter 8: Blast of the Past

After patrolling La Push, deafening blares transpired from the heart of the woods, taunting and teasing and tantalizing her. With her heart beating erratically in her chest, Leah bulleted past the border separating the residential areas from the forest and aimlessly hunted down the odorless trespasser. Suddenly, the booming blusters evaporated. After not being able to detect the intruder, she snarled. By howling, she notified her pack mates of the restless essence.

Temptation budded in her chest when she noticed swift streaks of platinum wandering through the trees. Deliberately, she strolled forward when the presence lured her in. Enraptured, she followed. Her resentment evaporated, becoming only a faint memory when the serene harmony nearly devoured her.

When she nearly became immersed by the voice, her powerful but uneasy alpha tackled her, forbidding her from moving—from slithering underneath his strong, bolstering form, and seeking the bewitching tenor, which gradually dissipated. Withering underneath his stinging, severe stare, she growled and howled, but he restricted her until she unwillingly sagged.

"It's gone," he reported. "Are you okay?"

"Let go of me," Leah commanded. "Let go of me, Jacob, or I'll rip you into shreds."

"That's the Leah that we all love and hate," Jacob responded, smiling but ultimately grimacing. "What happened?"

"I have no idea," Leah confided, perturbed. "I heard noises so I came here. I was fine but then I started to feel weird. Odd. Almost as if I was not in control of my body."

"Don't worry, Leah. We'll figure out what happened to you, and we'll find the culprits," Jacob promised before patting her shoulders. "In the meantime, go to sleep, Leah. You haven't been sleeping lately."

"And neither have you," Leah remarked without any harshness; her voice shifted, losing the remaining bits of hatred and bitterness and receding into the familiar hold of misery and exhaustion. Jacob knew what it was like. He knew what it felt like to abandoned by someone he had trusted—by someone he had loved. "But I'll take you on your offer, almighty alpha. If you find out any more information, contact me. I want to know what happens."

"Don't worry, Leah. Goodnight," Jacob added.

She bid him farewell before speeding back home and slinking into the shadows as she crept into her neighbors' backyards; she quietly marched to the end of the neighborhood, climbed the tree beside her house, and entered her bedroom through the window. Forcefully, she dispelled the memories of nervous laughter, of constant glances directed toward the entrance, of elated beams, smirks, raised eyebrows, and warm, sweaty hands slowly stroking the sides of her flushed face; she discarded the memories of stammers, of stumbles, of muffled groans and screams as he unsteadily mounted the branches of the tree outside her bedroom window; she hurriedly dismissed the memories of stolen kisses underneath the comforting hold of the starry sky, of proclamations of eternal love, of a bright, promising future, of innocent, inexperienced kisses.

The memories tormented her.

But she no longer cared.

She simply reveled in the agony.


The pack congregated in Sam's house. It was tradition. And an obligation for her.

Desperation and dejection swarmed her.

From his peripheral vision, he exchanged intimate glances with his lover—her traitorous, conniving, simpering cousin—before grinning and beckoning her forward. Their chatter instantly faded.

"We have a big announcement to make," Sam declared, and her heart hammered with uneasiness. "Emily's pregnant. We're expecting a baby girl. And we've decided to get married in a month from now."

"Just a small, comfortable wedding with our friends and family," Emily interjected, giggling when he unconsciously traced the side of her stomach.

"It's about time. We've been waiting ever since those bloodsuckers finally left and Jake became alpha," Paul muttered, causing the remaining pack members to roar with laughter, with affectionate praises and good-natured innuendos, which stimulated them into entering another fit of guffaws.

Leah simply stood erect when the atmosphere thickened, when the laughter became unbearably noisy, when their stretching smiles expanded to the point where their mouths contorted in a grotesque way; her frame fluctuated when the soothing, stroking hands mocked her, when their blazing irises burned her soul, when their hopeful dispositions blighted her faith. Shuddering, with her spine arching, with her heart walloping her heaving chest, she savagely extracted Jacob's scalding hands from her shoulders; she stormed out of the room, narrowly avoiding Sam, who bowed his head, unconsciously tranquilizing the baby blooming in his lover's womb—the baby who should have been created out of their bond, out of their loving relationship, out of their sacrifices and their trials and their affection.

Leah hysterically cried when the convulsions she had been suppressing suddenly assailed her.

While bemoaning and floundering, she beseeched and supplicated with a higher force to alleviate the misery circulating her chest; she whined, but, with a final string of laments, she ascended and cleansed herself of her gloom.

The sound of their footsteps alerted her of their presences.

Reluctantly, she faced Sam—her friend since birth, her first confidant, her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first love—and mutely complied and accepted his lies even as he withered under her stare, even as he rubbed the nape of his neck—a nervous tendency she had found adorable, had cherished and teased him for but now loathed—and lied with remorse marring his features.

Heart-broken, with her throat constricting and cramping and containing her, she regarded him as he instinctively eyed Emily, as he admired her high cheekbones, the natural glisten and liveliness of her eyes, her long, straight locks and stunning smile; she simply grimaced, battling with her nerves, with her wretched heart, with the familiar sorrow, which dispersed to the very tips of her fingers, and accepted his beautiful lies.

His lies—mesmerizing and loving and oh so promising—no longer enlivened her; they invaded her, bombarded her, killed her.

She sneered, restraining herself from sniveling, from weeping, from confronting him. Instead, she deteriorated spiritually—silently.

They were such beautiful lies after all.


Leah Clearwater had been a good girl—always attending church gatherings, always taking an active role in conducting lessons, always discussing His miraculous works, always arranging fundraisers, always participating in school activities, always receiving the highest grades, always running for student council, and always pleasing her family members and her friends and her boyfriend with her tranquil disposition. She had been a good girl, complete with the polished hair, the glossy, pink lips, the long, fluttering eyelashes, and trendy clothes—always appropriate length, of course.

Leah Clearwater had been a good girl.

Until her boyfriend disappeared and pursued her cousin; until he declared his undying affection for his lover. Until her father died and her brother transfigured into a huge, hulking beast and her anguish prompted her to turn into a roaring monster. Until she cut her hair to her chin and her features hardened with grief and she unconsciously tore all her pieces of clothing and learned of her infertility and that damn imprinting process.

She was no longer a good girl; she never attended congregations concerning church, nor did she fundraise, nor did she have heated debates over the existence of her Lord, nor did she participate in school activities, nor did she receive the highest marks, nor did she run for student council, nor did she please her family members and her so called friends and her cheating ex-boyfriend. She was the complete opposite with her tousled locks, chapped lips, steely, glowering gaze, and cropped clothing, which only covered the necessities.

Leah Clearwater was not a good girl.

She simply was not.

But it no longer mattered anymore.

She was too shattered to care. Much too shattered.


Sniveling quietly, with snot dripping from her nostrils and with red-stained cheeks, she proceeded to sprint away from the marriage ceremony; the sound of the church bells, of their proclamations of love, of the quiet, pity-filled whispers, continued to flow through her ears. She sobbed, chest heaving erratically, jaw jutting, hands clenching and unclenching with humiliation and rage, eyes stinging and reddening as her tears gushed from her eyes. Exhaling sharply, she deliberately slowed down and entered the surrounding forest.

She could not stand it.

She could not live the damned life she had.

She had to leave.

She could not stand it anymore.


Once she resurfaced from her nightmare, she blearily but frigidly accessed his cobalt irises—which were fogged with an underlying but permanent darkness, overshadowed with remorse, and clouded with apology; she barely harnessed herself from swearing, from shrilling and screeching and banishing him from her sight. Repulsed by his mere presence, by the curse he placed her under, she evaded his wondering gaze, avoided the intensity of his stare—the unbearable concern which sprouted from his eyes. She simply ignored him.

"We started looking for other ways to fix the Tree of Life, so the portal could start to work properly and you could travel through, but we couldn't find anything that would actually work. There's only one definite possibility that could benefit you, which is finishing the war with our side winning," Drakon reported with exhaustion. "We've tried to guard the Tree of Life but, obviously from what you've seen, it isn't working out like we planned. I can't really guarantee much."

Leah nodded and sighed, looking everywhere and anywhere.

"I'll leave you to rest. You must be tired," Drakon rendered before inhaling deeply and abandoning her.

After unbundling the bundle of nerves clogging her throat, she deliberately strolled down the corridor; she instinctively stopped at the center, searching for forgotten memories but, after not being able to find any, she proceeded onward. Respiring profusely, she stared at the cerulean-eyed girl whose ghostly pallor brightened slightly when she noticed her. Alcander smiled slightly while his hands—his calloused but gentle fingers—smoothened her sweat-drenched hair. Almost against her will, she wandered forward with her knees wobbling and her hands shaking.

"Good morning, Leah," Carabelle greeted pleasantly, dimples dotting the sides of her mouth.

"You look better," Leah remarked softly.

"And you look conflicted," Carabelle commented. "We shouldn't lie to each other, Leah. We're far too perceptive to keep dancing over this. I look frightening to say the least, and you look conflicted. What's wrong, Leah? Is it my brother?"

Leah stood rigidly.

"He really didn't mean to hurt you. We never thought his presence would hurt you," Carabelle divulged. "We thought you'd react differently—maybe even a tiny bit happy, but we were wrong. But, Leah, please don't be mad at him. Don't be mad at us. We were once—"

"We were once such great friends, right?" Leah sniped before sighing and rubbing her face with fatigue. "Never mind—"

"Well, since we're being honest here, yeah. We were once great friends. Best friends, I'd say," Carabelle interjected.

"It's not like it matters much anymore," Leah rendered.

"Whatever you say."

"Anyways, we're better off our separate ways. He's better off anyway," she stated mindlessly before frowning and crossing her arms. "Maybe we were all great friends before. Maybe I was great friends with him before, and maybe things would've been different now if—well, you know, if all that stuff hadn't happened."

She paused, licked her lips, and looked away briefly. But she glanced at Carabelle, who propped herself on her elbows and riveted her with an unwavering, unyielding, unflinching stare. Leah swallowed thickly, hands fisted and eyebrows raised.

"I don't love him."

"I know that. I wouldn't expect you to either. People only fall in love like that in poorly written romance novels," Carabelle divulged, "or if they're really love deprived and desperate."

"Neither of which you are," Alcander pointed out.

"Nice to know I've made myself clear."

"You have," Alcander stated.

"And I'm not really the same person anymore."

"We've noticed. And in case you haven't, we've changed, too," Carabelle added, grimacing but attempting to smile.

"All of us—but especially Drakon," Alcander confided.

"Everything's changed, Leah. We're not children anymore; we're not—well, you know. Our eyes have been opened," Carabelle mentioned before coughing and wiping the edges of her mouth with her sleeves. Alcander squeezed her hands, lips tautening and tightening, eyes steeling and hardening.

"Whatever choices you make, whatever path you decide to take, we'll always be there for you," Carabelle finished before sighing and smiling slightly. "Anyways, let's start fresh. I don't think these talks help anyone."

"You're right," Leah rendered, unfolding her hands.

"Then, Leah, I have to tell you that everyone wants to see you—but whenever you're ready, of course."

"I'll see them today," Leah decided, forehead creasing.

"Good because Demetria and Cyrena have been asking incessantly for you," Alcander interjected, eyes wrinkling merrily when Carabelle giggled with agreement.

"They're adorable," Leah rendered, beaming.

"You can see them after their classes."

"They'll finish in a while, but—well, if you want, so you won't get bored—you can go train with Alcander," Carabelle offered before glancing down at Alcander's jittery hands and then looking up at him. Smiling, she squeezed his hands and watched as he closed his eyes but sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm going," he replied hesitantly, while Carabelle rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. "Do you want to go?"

"It's absolutely exhilarating. I think you'd like it," Carabelle interjected.

"I'll take your word for it," Leah answered.

"So you'll go?" Carabelle questioned.

After a pause, she agreed.

Carabelle hacked violently; her stomach contracted when she exerted excessive pressure on it and gradually unclamped it. Quickly, Alcander environed her, supporting her body with his arms, reassuring her with quiet murmurs, soothing her with his tenderness and unwavering affection.

"I really hope you feel better," she uttered once she stopped.

"Thanks," Carabelle whispered with dimples adorning the sides of her lips, exposing her rejuvenated spirit and contrasting with her fragile frame.

Leah reluctantly withdrew.

"Training starts in a few minutes," Alcander commented with distress. "We should go now unless—"

"Go," Carabelle prompted, affectionately waving him off. "I'll be fine. Plus, my mom said she'd come up here halfway through practice."

"But—"

"And there's healers here in case anything happens," Carabelle persuaded before pecking his cheek and smiling reassuringly. Fondly, he brushed his lips against her forehead and squeezed their intertwined hands. Languidly, painfully, he detangled himself from his sweetheart, who merely beamed up at him.

"If you need anything—"

"I know," Carabelle interrupted faintly. "If I need anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Good," he said before grimacing and plunging down the familiar abyss of misery.

Hesitantly, he retracted and vacated the infirmary.

"You really love her," Leah noted, feeling genuine admiration for their relationship.

"I do," he admitted. "I really do, and I really want her to get better. This war is hurting her."

"The Tree of Life, it's—"

"Dying," he whispered, "but we'll finish this war soon. It'll end soon, and then she'll get better. She'll be fine. More than fine. She has to be."

"She will be," Leah encouraged but her heart throbbed.

"She wil bel," he repeated to himself. "She will be."

And his features became stoic, expressionless, void of any and all emotion—especially of his dejection and heartache.

With perfect, expressionless composures, the pack of trainees stood by the sidelines, watching with concentration, with their eyes gliding over their fluid movements, with their eyes checking for flaws in their defenses, for their weaknesses, for loopholes. The two prodded and poked their physical barriers before avoiding blows with rapid, calculated motions. Electrified by their intensity, startled by their gut-wrenching but effective techniques, astounded by their dedication and unfaltering stamina, she concentrated further on the two fighters: Acastus and Admes, who were both physically matched—both equally determined to persevere and win.

Acastus evaded the constant flow of punches and kicks streaming in his direction by quickly ducking his head, descending, tilting his nimble frame from side-to-side, surmounting, and then rapidly repeating once more. Gaining momentum, he kicked Admes, who seized his leg and twisted him to the side before slogging him. Hastily, Acastus held his fists in front of his face, and, in mid-air, grabbed Admes's fists and clobbered him until he flung his body toward the wall. Wobbling, wavering, weakening, he marched forward, and, in a blink of an eye, bombarded Acastus with rapid movements.

"Your time has run out. It's time for a break!"

A man with onyx-colored hair, masculine features, which consisted of a strong, square-shaped jaw, defined cheekbones, bold, broad eyebrows, and sympathetic hazel eyes traveled forward, accompanied by a divine being with long, blonde tresses, which tumbled past her waist, framed her gracile features, and complimented her expressive sapphire eyes; their features—although beautiful and youthful and unique—possessed a hardened, disappointed edge, a lack of brightness in the irises, and a sorrowful but powerful aurora.

"Ly and Adara," Leah whispered, growing stronger and more confident when the two pivoted on their heels. "Ly and Dara."

"Leah," Adara murmured. "My little Leah!"

And she instinctively, unconsciously, but tenderly, encompassed her, enfolding her in her warm, despondent but hopeful embrace. Squeezing, smiling, simpering through the thickness in her throat and the tears accumulating in her eyes, she cradled her.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeated. "For everything. For everything that has happened to you. For reacting this way. Oh! I must be overwhelming you. I'm so sorry!"

Her lips rose at the sides.

"Leah, it's nice to see you again," Ly verbalized with rejuvenated spirits. "You grew up and blossomed into a beautiful, young lady—a beautiful warrior."

And his irises ignited with hope, with faith, with undying, fatherly affection.

"It's nice to see you both," Leah responded, flustered by their vigilance, by the admiration exhibited by their glistening irises, by their erect postures and the immediate softness of their facial features.

"You arrived at a good time," Ly remarked. "If you want, you can train with the rest of the group."

"I'd like that," Leah uttered; her voice soft but steady.

"Your partner for now will be Alcander. After one match, you'll change partners with whoever you want," Adara announced. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to check on Cara. It was nice seeing you again, Leah. Truly a pleasure. Please, please, visit soon."

Before departing, her husband briefly exchanged an intimate gaze with her; it was sentimental but romantic, considerate and affectionate, compassionate and softhearted, worried but blindingly, understandably hopeful. When the two separated, Adara tentatively patted Alcander's sagging shoulders and left.

"Training starts now," Ly announced. "Pair up, and I'll go around and demonstrate new moves to each individual pair. In the meantime, start now!"

Unconsciously, Leah retreated, with her pupils dilating as her animalistic side resurfaced. With coiled muscles and an unwavering stare, she circled Alcander, who mimicked her movements, who, with practiced ease, quickly lunged forward, somersaulted when she crouched, and jabbed her from behind; he inundated her with new, unfamiliar movements, consisting of high kicks, guarded fists, hasty hands, and an impressive amount of stamina. Frustrated, she bombarded him with sloppy motions: languid blows, sluggish feet, trembling, anger-filled fists, and uncoordinated hits.

"Calm down," Alcander advised. "When you let your anger control you, you don't think about the consequences of your actions. Calm down. Inhale. Exhale. Now think."

Furtively, Leah walked forwards with her fists lifted, with tense muscles, and with narrowed eyelids; she marched forward before exploding into a series of calculative movements, which he expertly avoided. Chagrined, she pounced on him, tilting his frame to the side and forcefully causing him to collapse. Speedily, with her heart pulsating, with her throat constricting, with her muscles cramping, she punched him twice before he ensnared her.

"Leah, you need to calm down. You're too impulsive. You need to think or your anger will destroy you. It'll consume you. I know that you don't know me, that you don't need to take my advice, but if you do, you'll prosper. Just calm down. Breathe. And think. Just try it," Alcander recommended. "Do you want to fight again?"

"Again," Leah affirmed obstinately.

When she noticed that he favored his right leg, she side-stepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his swinging arms; she bounced on her heels, then sprung upwards, and assailed him with a fury of quick punches, which he easily avoided. In a rapid, unexpected movement, he knocked her over. Before he could pin her down, she kicked him and surmounted when he staggered. His fists covered his face; his breaths came out steadily, but his eyes flittered between her and her right side. Seizing the opportunity, she shielded herself from the upcoming onslaught by firmly planting her feet onto the ground, raising her arms, and twisting her waist. Abruptly, he roundhouse kicked her from the opposite side and slid forward, impelling her to the ground. She growled, clearly riled by his sudden assaults.

"Inhale. Exhale," he reminded her.

Piqued, she took the offensive; she stormed forward and besieged him with punches and kicks, which barely caused him to falter. Aggravated by his nonchalance, she allowed the frustration brewing in her being to rise and flourish; she dashed forward, whizzed past him, and kicked off of the wall until she somersaulted in the air and landed behind him. Shuddering, she jumped onto his back, but, when her eager fingers brushed his neck, he expertly spun her around until her throat laid in between his two hands.

"Save it," she ordered, irritated.

"Switch pairs!" Ly proclaimed.

"Hello, Leah!" Delia exclaimed. "Do you want to partner up?"

She consented.

With her dainty, feminine features, with her thin, swarthy figure and her sweet disposition, Delia's brisk movements and aggressive techniques took her by surprise. As she kicked her ankles, as she clocked her, as she steered away from her blows, she became infuriated by her lack of knowledge, by her lack of strength and speed—qualities she valued. Outraged, Leah pushed through, and, when she attempted to jab her sides, Delia ensnared her hands and overturned her until she exposed her neck.

"You're obviously talented, Leah, but there's something that's holding you back," Ly commented after manifesting himself beside Delia. "You know what your obstacle is, so I know you'll handle it whenever you feel like it's necessary to defeat it. Right now, I can only help you with your technique. Form a fist."

Obediently, she fisted her hands.

"It would be better if you wrap your thumb finger across the bottom of your curled fingers," Ly advised, "and make sure that it's not too tight."

Leah moved her thumb from the side of her index finger and positioned it along her curled fingers.

"Good. Now, when you hit, try not to hit straight. Try to hit a linear punch, which looks like you're punching across. Align the first two knuckles with the bones in your forearm. This prevents you from breaking your ring and pinky fingers," Ly explained. "It's important for you to punch with your first two knuckles. Tilt your wrist down, put your knuckles in front of your fingers, and align your wrist with your forearm. Always, always, remember to keep your wrist straight when you tilt it. If you bend it, you risk hurting yourself."

With pride, he watched as she calmly demonstrated the proper technique for punching.

"If you want to render your opponent unconscious, aim for the throat," Ly remarked. "And if you can, keep your hands near your face. Now, we move onto kicking, specifically with a front kick. I'll go through the motions with you. First, point your foot out and bend your knee at an angle."

Together, they pointed their one of their feet and bent one of their knees at an angle.

"Now, lift your leg high and snap it out."

With considerable speed, Ly performed the front kick; she attempted but her leg would not raise to the elevation she desired and her movements were too sluggish. She sighed, addled by her languish motions.

"Don't worry, Leah," he persuaded. "This comes with time. If you keep practicing, you'll gain both strength and speed with these movements. Have you ever fought hand-to-hand combat?"

"I have," she stated while jutting her jaw.

"But were you ever taught to fight hand-to-hand combat?" Ly questioned, raising his eyebrows in inquiry.

"No," she mentioned after a pause.

"So this is your first lesson," he added. "Can you really expect someone to learn after a few seconds? No. With practice and patience, you'll even surpass me. I know you will. I know you won't let anything to get the best of you."

And she wouldn't.

While respiring more placidly, she detangled her constricted, compacted muscles and successfully tamed the frustration ripping throughout her frame until it receded into the pits of her chest. She inhaled sharply, determined to learn.

"Instead of snapping your leg out, thrust it out. The snapping motion will give you more speed and will target specific areas in your opponent, while the thrusting motion will give you more power and will push away your opponent or even cause severe damage," he added. "Try each move twice."

After pointing her foot and angling her knee, she lifted her leg and promptly snapped it. Slightly unbalanced, she staggered back but she retreated into the proper stance; she snapped her leg forward, gaining speed and balance and elevating her leg further than before. Feeling accomplished, she retired into the familiar position and thrust her leg forward, which pushed her back a few steps. Again, she thrust her leg forward and savored the power surging through her.

"Excellent, Leah," Ly praised, grinning. "Do you want to continue?"

She affirmed, exulted with her progress.

"The next type of kick is a sidekick, which is similar to the technique for the front kick; your knee must be bent at the same, 90 degree angle, but your supporting foot pivots 180 degrees with your toes pointing away from your opponent," Ly orated while demonstrating the motions with fluidity. "The leg that you're using for kicking is then snapped out, and your body weight is placed over the supporting leg to maintain your balance. With this motion, you hit with your heel, but always make sure that your toes are slightly turned down to minimize the risk of injury. If you want speed, use your front leg. If you want power, use the back. We'll start with a back leg sidekick since it's easier to do."

After bending her knee at the correct angle, she pivoted her leg 180 degrees, keeping close attention on pointing her toes away. In one, instinctive motion, she snapped out her leg and depended on her supporting leg to maintain her balance. With felicity, she repeated twice more, gaining impressive results with each kick.

"Great job, Leah!" Delia exclaimed with enthusiasm.

"You're doing a great job, Leah. Now, perform a front leg sidekick and make sure you turn down your toes slightly," Ly mentioned.

With more confidence and agility, she followed through the familiar movements three times before receding back into her initial stance. She pivoted and involuntarily beamed when her trainer appraised her with his encouragements, with his glistening irises, with his constant smiles of approval. She smiled more broadly when Delia applauded her.

"The next move is a round kick, which involves lifting your kicking leg—but make sure that your knee is also bent at a 90 degree angle. Swing your leg around in an arc motion, but the inner side of your leg must be parallel to the ground and your foot should snap out. Keep your foot pointed for maximum impact," Ly proclaimed as he exhibited the proper technique. "This can also be performed with the front part of your leg and the back. Front round kicks are faster than back round kicks, but they're less powerful. However, I recommend using a front round kick more often because back round kicks are easier to counter. Try both three times."

With patience and tranquility, with her kicking leg unconsciously ascending, with her knees bending at a 90 degree angle, she swung her leg around in an arc formation before quickly snapping out her foot and keeping her toes pointed. Satisfied, she repeated twice on the front before repeating three times on her back leg.

"Now, for the last kick. This is called the crescent kick because it's a circular kick that can be performed inside out or outside in. You have to swing your leg as high as you possibly can and then you quickly bring it down with the intention of hitting the head or the shoulder of your opponent. Concentrate on lifting your kicking leg up and across the body once you lift it up; then bring it down on your target and fall back into your initial position," Ly mentioned before showing her his gracefulness, his nimbleness and facility, with the moves. "For this move, you need to strike someone to learn the proper technique, so you have to practice on me. Pretend I'm your enemy. Kick me as hard as you can."

"If you say so," she mumbled before dubiously regarding her trainer, who towered over her, who completely overwhelmed her as she glanced down at her kicking leg and his height.

After she accepted the challenge, she eased into the steps, flowing through the movements with serenity, gaining speed and momentum as she swung her kicking leg to the highest height she possibly could and across his body; she forced her leg to descend upon his shoulders, but she groaned and staggered back when her leg began to ache.

"Are you okay?" Ly inquired while righting her.

"I'm fine. Completely fine," she stated; her voice laced with disappointment.

"Leah, you made amazing progress! Don't be discouraged!" Delia exclaimed, lightening her dampened mood.

"Leah, you've made incredible progress!" Acacia shouted from the other end of the training center. She slid forward, accompanied by her companions.

Quickly, she evaded his overbearingly prideful expression by focusing on her bouncing ally, who cautiously, sluggishly, encircled her, squeezing her and reassuring her with her presence. One-by-one, with their warm, persuasive essences, they calmed her down.

"It's an immense relief to see you again, Leah," Acacia verbalized, expressing her contentment.

"We were afraid you'd never want to see us again," Artemisia vocalized while wringing her wrists.

"We're sorry, Leah," Admes added.

"Really sorry," Aristo mentioned.

"We know that we shouldn't have lied to you," Acastus declared. "It was wrong."

"I was angry, but I know that I wouldn't have accepted your help any other way. I didn't accept help in the first place, when it was offered to me. I'm grateful for your help, but let's not lie to each other anymore, and hopefully we can put all of this past us. Start fresh," Leah uttered, receiving soft smiles and agreements. "And Alcander, I'm s-sorry for not accepting your advice. It was good advice."

He simply smiled.

"Training always starts early in the mornings if you want to join us," Ly announced. "Usually, Adara and I alternate. How about it, Leah?"

"I'd like that," Leah stated.

"Well, it'll be a pleasure to see you everyday," Ly verbalized. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to check up on Cara. Drakon, don't forget to come to the investigation around ten minutes earlier than scheduled. We have certain matters to discuss beforehand."

"Actually, I'll go with you to visit Cara," Drakon announced.

"And I'll go, too," Alcander declared, excusing himself as he vacated the vicinity.

"So, Leah, my sisters have been asking about you. Would you like to see them again?" Nicodemus asked.

"Of course."

Once she ascended the staircase, she unconsciously strolled down the corridor, following the joyous sounds of high-pitched giggles, booming laughter, harmonious music, fast-paced footsteps, jumps, squeals, and encouraging praises. When she stopped at the entrance of the ballet studio, she riveted the simpering, singing girls with delight, with rising lips and twinkling eyes; she perceived the young sisters with admiration when they expertly performed a tours en l'air, landing with grace and rigidness when they receded back into a fifth position. Leah applauded, charmed by their demonstration.

"Leah!" Cyrena exclaimed. "Leah, I'm happy you're here!"

"Me too! Oh, we have so much to tell you, Leah!" Demetria vocalized before sprinting forward with Cyrena and leaping into her arms.

"Are you m-mad?" Cyrena questioned curiously, eyes widening with momentary trepidation.

"Of course not," Leah rendered with softening features. "I could never be angry with you two."

"Good because we have so much to tell you—so much to show you!" Demetria verbalized while grinning widely. "But there's people here who want to see you."

"Demetria," Nicodemus warned, but she simply shushed him.

Growing increasingly wary, she surveyed the vicinity and wheezed with astonishment when she caught a glimpse of a slender but curvaceous figure with long, raven ringlets, a complexion devoid of any imperfections, and bright blue eyes, which resembled the ocean on a perfect, luminous morning. From her peripheral vision, a tall, statuesque teenager with onyx tresses and stormy cerulean irises, which resembled the turbulent, roaring waves of the ocean on a blustery day, admired her from afar. A shapely, budding beauty with unique, peacock-colored irises, which strongly reminded her of the currents that led to lakes, beamed at her.

"Lailah, Charmeine, Seraphina," she recited, breathless.

"Leah, it's been a such a long time," Lailah reported.

"Nine years," Charmeine added quietly.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Seraphina glissaded forward and embraced her.

"It's such a pleasure to see you again, Leah," Seraphina whispered before retracting. "I'm so sorry, but it's been such a long time, and you left without notice. It was really hard for all of us, and it must've been really hard for you, too. Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry! I'm rambling."

Leah compulsively coddled her and allowed her to nestle herself further into her arms.

"How old are you now?" Leah questioned.

"Fifteen," she responded; voice faint and unsteady, inundated by accumulating tears and raw apprehension.

"Just like my brother, Seth," Leah mentioned, suddenly homesick. "And Charmeine, you and Lailah are both twins; you're both seventeen, right?"

"We are," Lailah answered, surprised.

"Do you remember everything?" Charmeine inquired.

"Not everything but just some bits and pieces," Leah replied, puzzled by her own recollections. "At some point, my memory will come back completely."

"Do you want it to come back?" Seraphina asked with interest.

Did she?

"How about we just catch up on what we've all missed?" Lailah interjected. Aristo wrapped his arms around her waist. "Aristo is my mate."

"Mes is mine," Charmeine divulged, smiling when Admes intertwined his fingers with hers.

"Seraphina, do you have a mate?" Leah questioned with genuine curiosity.

"I haven't met him yet," she commented, eyes downcast. "Micah, our older brother, hasn't either, but my younger siblings have."

"You have more?" Leah questioned, intrigued.

"Oh, yes," Seraphina responded, tittering with laughter. "We have seven younger siblings now; two new sets of twins. Our lives are chaotic together, but at least we're never bored."

"They're living with our parents, but they visit regularly," Lailah remarked. "You'll meet them soon."

"I think we might be overwhelming you," Artemisia voiced. "It's time for lunch anyway. Do you want to join us, Leah?"

She consented, feeling slightly stressed. Demetria and Cyrena each grabbed one of her hands, intertwining their fingers with hers. Leah smiled.


Hi, guys! I would like to thank my guest reviewer, brankel1 and rakikiel for reviewing! And I would like to thank all of you who have read my story so far!

rakikiel, your review was a great relief because I wasn't sure if I was getting my whole purposeful confusion point across, and you're right about the recaps. If I want to keep it going, then maybe I should stop them. Thank you so much for reviewing!

So, from now on, I won't recap unless someone wants me to. You can either review asking for it, or you can private message me if you need further explanation. Thank you, guys!

Update will be in two days!