Trinity ate breakfast alone, the scraping of her fork against her plate sounding like a violent shriek that threatened to burst her eardrums. The silence that Boris's trick had lent her, the gentle muffling of her overloaded senses, seemed to have worn off completely. Now, her senses were fighting to be on full display, each one screaming for attention.
She found herself accustomed to closing her eyes, choosing to be blind rather than to face a world that was too sharp, too loud, too much. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the phantom sensation of the staff's eyes on her. Their whispers, faint as they were, still felt like they were being shouted directly into her mind.
Reaching for the earbuds Boris had given her, she pressed them into her ears. The aural onslaught lessened enough to be bearable, but a scream still clawed its way up her throat. She couldn't fathom how anyone could live like this, with every nerve ending exposed, raw, and vulnerable.
Standing up, she lifted her bag, a few essentials for her survival at the Warrior house. She knew it would be a gauntlet of noise and discomfort, but she had to go.
A scent flared in her nose as she walked down the hall—the distinct aroma of her four bodyguards. Boris had insisted they stay with her 24/7, his solution to her being a danger to herself and others. Trinity didn't mind. She wanted the world to keep its distance. She still hadn't figured out how to use her voice again, able to communicate only with Boris through her mind. In a way, she wondered if she even wanted to speak. Silence was a privilege she was beginning to appreciate.
Once outside, Trinity ran, her feet a blur of motion, moving at a speed she'd never thought possible. Her hair whipped around her face as the wind rushed against her skin.
With her eyes closed, the trip through the forest became a journey of pure sensation.
The crisp scent of pine, the rich smell of damp earth, the clean brilliance of freshly cut grass—the world moved from a scenic view to a sensory overload. The four wolves kept pace, circling her like silent guardians, ensuring nothing could get close.
The men exchanged uncertain glances, watching her run with her eyes perfectly closed, a serene expression on her face. She navigated the path as if she could see every root and stone, her steps never faltering. She reached the warrior house without a single misstep.
She entered the first floor where students milled about, some rushing, some dawdling over breakfast. She took the stairs to the second floor, walked down the hall to her room, and dropped her bag on the bed before immediately exiting. She knew she was moments away from being late.
Deciding to take the shortest route, she walked to the end of the hall, to a window that had been left open. Her eyes still closed, she simply jumped. She landed softly on the grass, a barely audible thud. Her four protectors landed moments later, and they all made their way to the training field.
Trinity stood at the back, her closed eyes focused on the forest she couldn't see.
Thomas's voice washed over her, a calm tide in the sea of chaos, as he informed the group of the day's training.
"Like normal, we're going to start with a run. Three quick laps around the pack." Thomas's eyes drifted toward Trinity. He noticed her friends, the defectives, clustered together, their worried gazes fixed on her. Rumors of her having been snatched by a rogue had spread like wildfire, and her sudden appearance did little to quell them.
As the class began their run, Thomas called out, "Trinity, hang back." He had been briefed by her father—she was a bridge between wolf and human, and she wasn't handling it well. Her senses were a maelstrom, and he knew his job was to help her find a safe harbor.
He approached her with slow, gentle steps, not wanting to startle her. He watched as her head tilted in his direction, her nose flaring slightly, as if she could smell the exact coordinates of his every movement. When he was within a meter, her four guards shook their heads, a clear signal that he was not to come any closer.
"Let's get your eyes back," he said, his voice a low rumble. He sat on the ground, legs crossed, hands resting on his lap. Without a word, she mirrored his every move, her impressive awareness of the world still intact despite the sensory noise.
"I need you to sync your breathing with mine. Every single breath. If I inhale, you inhale."
She nodded, her silence an acknowledgment. He took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and then released it slowly. He repeated the pattern over and over until her breaths completely matched his.
With his right hand, he began tapping his knee, a slow, steady beat that mimicked a calm heartbeat. While he continued to breathe in the tranquil rhythm, he listened for the tell-tale rush of her own frantic heart and, once he found it, began to match his tapping to it.
"We stand in this field every day. You know what it looks like. Paint the most vivid picture, and hold it in your mind."
Tap… tap-tap… tap… tap-tap… His rhythm remained steady as he waited for her to conjure the image in her mind, to let the picture of the field take shape without the distraction of sensory input. As wolves, it was normal to filter the world to a reasonable level, to dull the senses to prevent migraines and pain. It was a skill exceptional for humans, but regular for wolves.
"Now, open your eyes just a little. Filter the light."
Her breathing hitched, but he quickly reminded her, "Your breath should match mine. No faster."
Trinity waited until the light didn't feel like a physical assault. Then, slowly, she opened her eyes a bit more. She looked down and saw the ground in excruciating detail—every ant, every leg, every curve of its spine; the individual grains of sand, the crumbling dirt. It was all too much.
"You know what this field looks like. What the ground looks like. Remember the picture you created," Thomas gently reminded her.
Trinity's thoughts raced back to the image she had held in her mind, the one of the field as a whole, a unified entity. Slowly, as if by magic, the ants disappeared. They were still there, but not as if she could count every one of their legs. The particles of dirt coalesced into a single, cohesive ground.
A sense of relief washed over her. She could see again, normally.
"Now, close your eyes. Picture me in your head. Then open them."
When Trinity opened her eyes, she saw her teacher—his stoic features, his thick brown hair, his calming breaths. It was just him, without all the overwhelming details.
"Good," he said, his expression softening slightly. "When it's too much, close them. But when it's not, get used to having them open." He stood up as he heard the other students returning from their run.
Trinity watched, still sitting cross-legged on the ground, as Thomas walked back to the front of the class, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Trin."
"You're back."
"Are you okay?"
"What happened?"
Her friends' questions came at her fast, but she couldn't answer. Her guards stepped in front of her, a solid wall of fur and muscle, ensuring her friends couldn't get too close.
"What the fuck, we're her friends!" Jess snapped.
"Beta's orders," Kale said, his tone flat. He had been placed as Trinity's guard once again, and the orders were clear: no one, not even her friends, was to get too close.
Author's note
I would love to hear your thoughts so far on the book. Complaints, comments, flowers. As you know power Stones and votes, I love it all.