The weeks after Club Heaven passed in a strange, careful quiet. Tobias healed under Elyndra's steady hands, the stabilizers wrapped around his wrists like cool metal promises. They kept the essences in line, kept the heat from roaring up and swallowing him whole. But Vaelor's words still echoed in his head from that stolen vision (a bridge, a new era, a spark). The squad acted normal around him, or tried to. Garron's nods came a little slower, Seraphine's smiles carried extra weight, Kael's jokes landed with careful timing. Everyone waited for the next crack.
Training felt different now.
Tobias stepped into the hall one morning and paused. The air didn't press on him anymore. Senses stayed sharp without flooding. Strength sat ready in his limbs without clawing to get out. The heat inside him hummed low and even, like a river running smooth instead of raging.
Kael was already there, stretching in impossible ways, body twisting midair like he'd forgotten gravity existed. He spotted Tobias and broke into a wide grin.
"Look who decided to join the living," Kael called. "You move like someone who actually slept."
Tobias rolled his shoulders. Everything felt aligned. "The stabilizers help."
Kael circled him, head tilted. "No shakes. No glow. Almost boring."
Seraphine spoke from the bench, voice smooth and edged. "Don't encourage him. He was more interesting when he was falling apart."
She rose and crossed the floor slowly, eyes locked on Tobias. The hunger in her gaze had sharpened since the club, curiosity mixed with something possessive.
"You look steady," she said, stopping close. Roses and copper brushed his senses. "It's almost disappointing."
He held her stare. "I'll try to shake things up later."
Her smile flashed fang. "Promises."
Elyndra arrived then, quiet as always, Garron trailing behind her like a shadow. His golden eyes lingered on Tobias longer than usual, measuring.
They started light. Kael paired with Tobias first, quick drills, no real force. Tobias matched him move for move. Redirected a twist, slipped a grab, landed light. The heat stayed quiet, cooperative.
Kael paused, breathing easy. "You're flowing now. Like the pieces finally talk to each other."
Tobias nodded. It felt true.
Garron stepped in next. No words, just a nod. They circled. Garron threw heavy punches, controlled but real. Tobias blocked one, felt the impact travel clean through his arm instead of jarring bone. He countered, quick jab to the ribs that made Garron grunt.
The big werewolf stepped back, rubbed the spot, and gave a short nod. Not praise, but acknowledgment. Respect, maybe.
"Good block," Garron said, voice low. "You're learning."
Coming from him, it felt like winning a war.
Seraphine watched from the side, arms folded, smile small and private.
They rotated partners. Elyndra tested arcane shields against Tobias's strikes. The barriers held, then flexed, then parted exactly when he needed. No overload. No burn.
Between rounds they rested on the benches, water bottles passing hand to hand.
Kael leaned back. "Confession time. Worst thing you believed as a kid."
Elyndra sighed. "This again?"
"It builds character," Kael said. "I thought shifting into a bird meant I could fly. Jumped off the roof. Broke both legs. Mom laughed for days."
Garron snorted. "Wolves don't jump off roofs. We learn early what hurts."
Seraphine's eyes went distant. "I thought blood tasted like answers. Took centuries to learn it mostly tastes like regret."
Silence settled, comfortable.
Tobias spoke last. "I thought the Accord saved me because I mattered. Took years to realize they saved me because I could be useful."
Kael bumped his shoulder. "You matter now, brother."
Garron nodded once, slow.
Elyndra watched Tobias with careful eyes. Later, when the others left for lunch, she lingered.
"The stabilizers are holding," she said quietly. "But they have limits. They dampen surges. They don't stop evolution. The essences are still merging, just slower."
He met her gaze. "Vaelor wants it faster, doesn't he?"
She didn't answer directly. "He sees potential. Great change. But change has costs."
Tobias flexed his fingers. The heat answered, warm and attentive. "I feel it waiting."
"It is," she said. "The stabilizers buy time. Nothing more. If the convergence resumes too quickly, they'll fail. And then we won't be able to stop it."
Her words hung between them.
Days turned to weeks. Training grew sharper. Tobias moved like he belonged in his own skin. Garron offered gruff tips between rounds, short corrections that carried weight. Kael celebrated every clean win with loud whoops and shoulder slaps. Seraphine tested edges, pushing just enough to remind him she could still unsettle him, her touches lingering a fraction longer each time.
One afternoon after a long session, the squad sprawled on the mats, catching breath.
Kael wiped sweat from his face. "You know what I love about this team? We're all disasters, but we fit."
Garron grunted agreement.
Seraphine stretched languidly. "Some more than others."
Tobias laughed, the sound surprising him. It felt easy.
Elyndra sat nearby, reviewing notes on her tablet. She glanced up. "Your resonance is stable today. Better than yesterday."
"Feels better," Tobias admitted.
She nodded, but her eyes held that familiar worry. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
Evenings became his own. He walked the upper galleries, watching the city lights far below. Eldoria glittered like broken glass under the stars. The heat inside him stayed calm, almost companionable.
He spent time in the small library attached to the training wing, reading old Accord reports on hybrid trials. Most were redacted. A few spoke of subjects who burned out, bodies unable to contain the merge. Others simply vanished from records. The stabilizers were new tech, meant to give control where earlier versions failed. But even the notes admitted they were temporary.
One night he found Kael there too, flipping through an ancient shifter tome.
"Research?" Tobias asked.
Kael shrugged. "Trying to understand what's happening to you. Figure if I get it, I can help when things go sideways."
Tobias sat beside him. "You think they will?"
Kael closed the book. "Everything good ends eventually. But we'll be there when it does."
Simple words. They settled something in Tobias's chest.
Seraphine found him another evening in the observation deck, city spread out like a map of light and shadow.
"You're avoiding me," she said, appearing at his side.
"Not avoiding. Just thinking."
She leaned on the railing beside him. "Dangerous habit." They stood in silence a while, watching aerodynes cross the sky.
"You're changing," she said finally. "Not just the power. You."
He glanced at her. "For better or worse?"
"Both." Her voice softened. "I like the new edges. But I miss the ones that cut."
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
Garron surprised him one dawn, waiting outside the ward gym.
"Run the border course with me," the werewolf said.
Just that.
They ran. Miles through simulated terrain, obstacles, threats. Tobias kept pace. When they finished, lungs burning clean, Garron clapped him on the shoulder, grip firm.
"You're holding your own," Garron said. "More than."
Tobias nodded, throat tight.
Small moments built on each other.
Elyndra adjusted the stabilizers weekly, checking resonance, asking quiet questions about dreams, surges, moods. She never rushed. Never pushed.
One afternoon she lingered after a check.
"Vaelor asked for another report," she said.
Tobias tensed. "What did you tell him?"
"The truth. You're stable. Growing. But the merge continues."
He waited.
She met his eyes. "He wants to accelerate it. Controlled tests."
Cold settled in his gut. "And you?"
"I told him no. Not yet."
Relief and dread mixed.
Weeks became a month.
Thirty days of steady mornings, sharp training, quiet evenings.
The squad grew easier around him. Jokes landed without careful edges. Garron shared protein bars without comment. Kael dragged him to late meals. Seraphine still teased, but sometimes just sat nearby, quiet company.
One quiet evening he stood alone in the observation gallery, moonlight spilling over the empty hall below.
Thirty days stable.
The heat inside him felt patient. Coiled. Ready.
He flexed his hand. No tremor. No roar.
Just quiet power.
Then a faint crackle ran through the stabilizer on his left wrist. A single rune flickered, dimmed, then steadied.
Tobias stared at it.
The heat stirred, slow and curious.
Not pain. Not yet.
But a whisper.
Soon.
He closed his fist.
The stabilizer held.
For now.