Jhaeros stood at the edge of the training grounds, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles like a drawn bowstring. Before him, Velka and Noir sat in perfect stillness, their eyes trained on him. The instructors had warned him that handling two beasts would be a challenge, but it was more than that—it was a test of his entire philosophy.
Velka, his dire wolf, was a creature of instinct and experience, raised alongside him in the wilds. Noir, the shadow panther, was different—a predator shaped by the Academy's rigorous training, independent yet watchful. The two of them did not follow him out of obedience. They followed because they chose to.
That, however, was not the prevailing belief among his peers.
Across the training grounds, a voice rang out, sharp and laced with amusement.
"You'll never command them properly if you let them think for themselves."
Jhaeros exhaled through his nose before turning. Tieran. The name alone was enough to set his teeth on edge. The boy came from a lineage of renowned beastmasters, but unlike Jhaeros, he followed the dominance method—breaking a beast's will and forcing submission until it obeyed without question.
Tieran stood beside a massive scaled hound, a creature that should have moved like liquid shadow but instead stood rigid, eyes dull. Jhaeros hated the way it looked at the ground, not at its master.
"If your control wavers for even a second," Tieran continued, "they'll turn on you. That's the nature of beasts. You either rule them, or you become their prey."
Jhaeros met his gaze, unblinking. "A forced bond is no bond at all."
Tieran smirked. "Then why don't we put that to the test?"
The instructors overheard the argument and, rather than stopping them, saw a teaching opportunity.
"Since you are both so confident in your methods, you will prove them in the hunt," one of them announced.
Jhaeros and Tieran were each assigned a task—track and subdue a phantom stag, an elusive beast known for its ability to weave in and out of shadows. It was a test of tracking, strategy, and control.
They would each release their beasts and work alongside them, using their respective methods to see who would succeed.
Jhaeros knelt beside Velka and Noir, placing a hand on each of them. "Find the stag," he murmured. "Move as one. Trust each other."
Velka rumbled in response, and Noir flicked her tail. They understood.
Tieran merely snapped his fingers. "Go," he ordered his hound. The beast hesitated for half a breath before launching forward, not out of instinct—but out of compulsion.
Jhaeros sighed and followed, slipping into the trees.
The forest was alive with the scent of damp earth and foliage. Jhaeros moved soundlessly, his Ilvaar senses tuned to every rustle of leaves, every shift in the wind.
Velka and Noir did not need to be commanded—they worked like extensions of his own instincts. Noir moved ahead, vanishing into the deeper shadows, while Velka's ears flicked forward, catching the faintest trace of movement.
Jhaeros felt the shift before he saw it—the flicker of something ethereal moving between trees. The phantom stag.
He whistled softly, and Noir shifted direction, cutting through a different angle. Velka circled wide, anticipating the creature's next movement. They were hunting, not chasing.
A sharp bark echoed from the opposite direction—Tieran's hound had spotted the stag and was charging recklessly. The beast's claws tore through the underbrush, its sheer force scattering smaller creatures as it surged forward.
Too soon.
The stag bolted, slipping between layers of shadow with impossible grace, avoiding the hound's charge. Tieran cursed loudly. "Get it! Move faster!"
Jhaeros shook his head. Brute force. No patience. No understanding.
He turned back to Velka and Noir. "We wait."
The stag reappeared a few feet ahead, confused by the sudden aggression. It made a mistake—pausing for a moment, its form half-phased into the shadows. That was when Noir struck, emerging from the darkness, cutting off its escape route.
The stag twisted, but Velka was already there, blocking its retreat. It tried to flee, but Jhaeros was already moving, stepping into the space it had no choice but to take.
He did not command his beasts—they had decided their own positions, relying on their instincts, their understanding of the hunt.
The stag faltered. It was surrounded.
Jhaeros reached out, pressing his palm against its ethereal hide. The creature stilled. No force. No struggle. Just understanding.
Tieran, meanwhile, was still chasing. His hound had driven the stag into exhaustion, but every time it lunged, the stag slipped away. It was reacting, not cooperating.
The match was over.
Jhaeros led the phantom stag back to the instructors, Velka and Noir walking calmly at his sides. Tieran arrived a moment later, breathless, his hound scratched, panting, and unsettled.
The instructor nodded at Jhaeros. "You succeeded without injury. The stag did not panic. Your beasts acted with efficiency."
Then they turned to Tieran. "Your method, while aggressive, failed to adapt. You sought to overpower instead of understand. That is not mastery—it is force."
Tieran's jaw tightened. His hound's eyes were still downcast, flinching at his every movement. Jhaeros almost pitied it.
The instructor's voice softened. "A beast is not a weapon to be wielded. It is a force to be guided."
Jhaeros stepped past Tieran, pausing only to say, "If you keep treating them like tools, they'll never trust you."
Tieran didn't respond.
Velka brushed against Jhaeros's side, and Noir let out a satisfied purr. They had won—not just the test, but the argument.
Jhaeros exhaled, looking at his beasts.
He had always believed that true mastery was not in control, but in trust. And today, he had proven it.