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"You're not as powerful as you make yourself out to be, but I know you're going to be just fine."

"How could you figure that? Don't we bleed together, as a team?"

"No, this is your fight; your cross is only able to be carried by you. Go, and deny my destiny so that you may exist as what you're born from: Wolfsbane."

Today, I wake as a boy, a boy with no dreams and no hope for the future, but that doesn't mean I can stay in bed today. I rise from my sleep with the eerie thought of how I even began to be in the wolf syndicate, one of the most powerful gangs in Malek. Though I started out as a meek, wannabe achiever, sleeping on these uncomfortable, beaten down cots provided by his lordship, I felt like I had a bit of a chance to challenge the occasion, compared to my roommates. But what could I, a runt, do with no desire to do anything with compassion? Looking to my left and right at these barren, rot-producing wood walls, I softly pant my paws on the splinted floor to escape from my room without awaking my comrades. Through the smell of the sun, the time was no later than the 6th witching hour, and it was time for me to brandish my sword for combat while everyone coped to their dreams. After all, from what I heard, true Wolfsbane prefer not to rest during a war, so they should be excommunicated already.

"So, the boy is planning to train right now? A pup should be sound asleep during these moments." A cynical voice speaks to itself in the dark, not a demon but no one native to this bedroom; though I would like to intervene, I have work to do. I slowly headed out, feeling my wounds on my back attempting to get ahead of me. I slowly started scratching them to soothe the pain for the moment being and continued down to the stairs below to begin my training outside the door. As I passed through the stone door, a strong gust of wind and the strong scent of different races' bloods struck my nose; I looked around to see the trees that we planted in the community garden was still intact before I made my charge to the fox dummy that was in my range of sight. The first few seconds didn't go so well: Remember when I tried to charge? Little did I know I was going to fall three seconds afterward, so....yeah. But, like a badass, I got myself back up and slowly arrived to the straw dummy, making my first overhead swing with my copper blade. Though my opponent was inanimate, and made of straw, and was a fox, he caused a very large recoil to my strike, forcing me to step back four steps. In attempting to defeat the doll, I forced an east swing, feeling confident that I would make this doll beg for mercy, but that's when Housemaster Rollo stepped in the way and caught the blade with his right paw.

"You don't seem to know what you're doing at all, do you," Rollo takes my sword and shrugs his swords in annoyance, "You won't be able to cut anything with such a dull thing. This doesn't represent a Wolfsbane at all." He tests the blade with a swift left handed sweep and watched the blade break from the hilt before he could get his arm to the left side of his body. "You should take this serious; I won't let you on the field with such a flimsy matter."

"Gene, you don't know how to handle my weapon, so give it here before you get yourself killed," I say with a stern look on my face. Rollo does nothing but laugh at me and unsheathes his sword to the right side of my neck.

"Surely you're kidding; your blade can't even stay together and you believe that you can challenge me? After all I've done for you­­--"

"Save it, let's just get down to business." I growl pulling one of the training swords from the ground behind the dummy and prepared for attack. It didn't do too much damage, outside of the fact that Gene got three hairs cut from his shoulder from the clashing of both of our blades. He shakes his head to scold me, pushing me back and forced me keep from getting cut in half by holding his overhead slice. He began rearing his fang then looked me in the eyes as I am on one knee trying to keep his input from finishing, then I saw it, the green pupil in his right eye: One of the marks of a Malek wrath warrior. Though that wasn't the mark I wanted, I had a feeling that he wasn't tapping into his fullest potential.

His voice grew more bass, "What are you trying to achieve with so much weakness"--He forced me to my other knee--"There is nothing that I can't overpower you with."

"I'm trying to survive for one more day!" I groaned taking one more breath before I blacked out.

But all I could hear was, "That isn't just for you alone to decide."