Chapter 210- The Balance Within
Tarria
It had been a month since the meditation that changed everything.
The memory still felt vivid — the warmth of Lexy’s fire, the hum of her triplets’ energy, and the overwhelming calm that had washed through me when Abellona’s voice had whispered into the quiet corners of my soul. For the first time, I’d stopped fighting myself. I’d stopped fearing what I carried inside — the smoke, the darkness, the unpredictable strength that once made even my allies flinch.
Now, when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see the fragile girl who trembled at her own reflection. I saw a warrior. One born of shadow and loyalty, shaped by the fire of her Queen.
The morning air was sharp as I stood on the ridge overlooking the western border. The alliance patrols were moving with practiced precision below, their armor catching glints of the pale sun. It had been a quiet month, but none of us trusted peace anymore. Adrian’s forces had been scattered, yes — but shadows had a way of regrouping.
I flexed my fingers, letting a wisp of smoke curl between them. It danced and shimmered, obedient now. Once, it used to lash out uncontrollably, responding to my fear like it could smell my weakness. Now, it moved because I wanted it to.
Lexy’s words echoed from that day: “You are not a weapon of destruction, Tarria. You are balance. You are proof that darkness and light can coexist.”
Back then, I didn’t believe her. I thought she said it out of kindness, to soothe my guilt for the things I’d done and the lives I couldn’t save. But since the meditation, something inside me had settled. The constant buzzing, the tension between the power and my will, had found harmony. It was as if Abellona herself had stitched the broken pieces of my soul back together.
Now, I led missions without hesitation. The others looked to me not as a danger but as an anchor. Even CJ had remarked during one of our debriefings that my control had improved beyond recognition.
He wasn’t wrong.
Two nights ago, we’d ambushed a small group of rogues trying to slip past the eastern edge of the territory. I didn’t wait for orders — I acted. My smoke blanketed the forest, cloaking us from sight while our warriors surrounded them. I could feel their confusion, their panic, their inability to tell shadow from reality. And when I struck, it was clean, precise, efficient. No unnecessary destruction. Just power channeled with purpose.
Afterward, one of the younger warriors, Dalen, approached me hesitantly.
“I thought… your power could only spread chaos,” he’d said.
I smiled then — a real smile, not the guarded ones I used to wear. “It spreads what I feel,” I told him. “And I don’t feel chaos anymore.”
He nodded slowly, eyes full of something I never expected to see again — respect.
That night, as I returned to camp, I caught my reflection in the stream. The shadows that once swirled violently around me now pulsed softly, almost in rhythm with my heartbeat. I no longer tried to suppress them. They were mine — a part of me.
Today, Lexy had called a meeting at the alliance hall. The air buzzed with renewed energy — scouts had reported increased movements near the borders, possibly remnants of Adrian’s faction trying to reorganize. As I entered, CJ was already at the front, his presence commanding but calm. Lexy sat beside him, her aura steady, glowing faintly beneath her skin like an ember that never dimmed.
She glanced at me as I entered, and her smile carried pride. Not the kind given out of duty — but the kind earned through growth.
“Tarria,” CJ greeted with a nod. “We were just discussing the northern patrols. Your last report mentioned unusual energy traces?”
“Yes,” I replied confidently, stepping closer. “They were faint but distinct. I believe someone’s testing the border strength — nothing strong enough to breach yet, but deliberate.”
Several leaders murmured in concern.
I raised my hand slightly. “It’s handled. I reinforced the borders myself and left a team stationed overnight. If they try again, we’ll know exactly who and where.”
CJ’s lips twitched, clearly fighting a grin. “Efficient as always.”
Lexy chuckled softly, leaning forward. “You’ve been making everyone’s jobs easier lately, Tarria. How does it feel?”
I tilted my head, letting the corners of my mouth lift. “Strange,” I admitted honestly. “To not be second-guessed, or to second-guess myself. But good.”
“Good suits you,” she said warmly.
For a moment, I felt the same warmth I had during that meditation — her fire brushing against my essence, reassuring and steady.
The rest of the meeting flowed smoothly. The alliance was strong, united, and running better than it had in years. What once felt like fractured packs now felt like one entity. And I realized something then — confidence wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to roar or burn. It was quiet, certain, like the silence before dawn when the world held its breath.
When the meeting adjourned, Lexy approached me privately. “You’ve changed, Tarria,” she said, studying me. “Not just your control — your presence. You walk like someone who finally knows her worth.”
“I think I finally do,” I answered.
She nodded, her eyes glimmering with that motherly pride she carried for all of us. “Keep trusting yourself. The power within you isn’t meant to be feared — it’s meant to guide others through their own darkness.”
Her words resonated deeply. Maybe that was my role — not just a warrior, but a reminder that even in the darkest corners, light could thrive.
Later that evening, I joined a patrol near the riverbank. The moon hung low, silvering the world in quiet light. My senses were heightened — I could feel the whispers of energy in the air, the heartbeat of the forest.
When a faint rustle came from the trees, my instincts kicked in. Smoke slipped from my palms, spreading wide in a soft wave. My vision shifted — the world blurred, and I could see outlines moving between the shadows. Three figures. Rogues again.
I didn’t hesitate. With a breath, I manipulated the smoke, letting it coil around them, cutting off their sight but not their air. They panicked, stumbling, and weapons clattering. I moved like water through them, striking with precision until they were down and disarmed.
No fear. No chaos. Just control.
As my smoke faded, I stood over them, calm and unwavering. One of them — a wolf with eyes full of hate — spat at my feet. “Monster,” he hissed.
I met his gaze evenly. “Not anymore.”
We brought them in for questioning, but my mind stayed on that word. Monster.
It used to break me. Now, it didn’t even sting. Because I finally understood — monsters aren’t born. They’re shaped by how others see what they can’t understand. And when you learn to understand yourself, their words lose their power.
When dawn came, I stood on the training grounds, watching the new recruit’s spar. The sunlight filtered through the trees, and I could feel the warmth brushing my skin.
Some of the recruits glanced my way. A few whispered, but not in fear — in admiration.
I walked over, correcting stances, showing them how to use their energy without hesitation. One of them, a young she-wolf named Maren, asked quietly, “How did you learn to control something that once scared you?”
I smiled softly. “By realizing it wasn’t the power that scared me — it was the thought of what others would think if I embraced it. Once you stop trying to please their comfort and start honoring your truth, the control follows.”
Her eyes widened in understanding, and I felt a spark of pride. Maybe this was what Abellona meant — that light and dark weren’t enemies, but teachers of each other.
As the sun rose higher, I felt at peace. Truly at peace. The shadows around me swayed gently like a living cloak, no longer chained by fear.
I wasn’t the frightened girl tied to a chair anymore. I wasn’t the uncertain soldier questioning her every move.
I was Tarria — daughter of shadows, ally of flame, and proof that even the darkest smoke can carry light within it.
And this time, I wasn’t afraid to let the world see it.
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