The days after the warehouse incident were grueling. Solomon didn't punish Elijah—he didn't need to. Elijah punished himself. He trained longer, slept less, pushed his body and his mind until everything blurred together.
On the fifth day, he hit a wall.
He was in the training room, drilling forms with the bane blade, when his body simply stopped responding. His arms felt like lead, his legs unsteady. The knife slipped from his fingers and clattered to the mat.
"You're overtrained," Solomon said from the doorway. "Take a break."
"I need to be ready."
"You need to be alive." Solomon walked over and retrieved the knife. "Your body needs time to integrate what the prince gave you. You can't force a tail to unlock."
Elijah sat down heavily, wiping sweat from his face. "How do I unlock them, then?"
"By growing. By facing real danger, not just training drills. By understanding who you are and what you're protecting." Solomon sat across from him. "The prince gave you a tail when you accepted him. The next one will come when you're ready to carry more."
Frustration boiled in Elijah's chest. He was tired of waiting, tired of being the weak link. He slammed his fist against the mat—
And something snapped.
A surge of energy exploded from his core, racing through his limbs. His senses sharpened, the world suddenly hyper‑focused. He could hear Solomon's heartbeat, smell the iron in the training weapons, feel the faint pulse of the breaches across the city.
And in his hands, light gathered. Not the faint glow of Aether Claws, but something more solid—a pair of ethereal claws that extended a full foot from his fingertips, shimmering like moonlight on water.
"Well," Solomon said, a rare smile touching his lips. "That answers that."
Elijah stared at his hands. The claws pulsed with the rhythm of his heartbeat. He willed them to retract, and they faded.
"I did it," he breathed.
"You unlocked your first full tail." Solomon stood and offered him a hand. "That puts you at roughly Level 5 power. Enough to handle a vampire on your own. Not enough to fight a clan warrior." His tone turned serious. "But it also makes you a bigger target. The rogue faction will know you're growing."
Elijah took his hand and stood. His exhaustion was gone, replaced by a new clarity. "Then we need to move faster."
"Agreed." Solomon pulled out his phone. "My contact is ready to meet. But you're going to need to watch your back. Not everyone we deal with is trustworthy."
Elijah thought of Seraphina, of her too‑kind eyes. "I know."
---
That afternoon, Seraphina texted him: Heard you're doing better. Drinks tonight? Celebrate your recovery?
Elijah stared at the message. Part of him wanted to go, to pretend things were normal. But the wolf's awareness was sharp, and it didn't like her.
He typed back: Can't. Busy.
Her response came quickly: Another time, then. Stay safe.
He showed the exchange to Solomon. "She's trying too hard."
"Maybe. Or maybe she's just a concerned friend." Solomon's expression was unreadable. "Keep your eyes open. We'll know soon enough."
---