The Alpha's Fated Outcast Rise Of The Moonsinger novel Chapter 298

Lyla

I gripped the training staff tight and ducked just in time as the Elite warrior lunged at me with a clean strike that was both powerful and fast. Too fast for a regular warrior, but I wasn't fighting regulars.

I moved through the combat routine with fluid precision, my body perfectly synced with the twenty warriors surrounding me. These weren't ordinary fighters—they were the Moonsingers' Guard, an elite unit specially trained to channel and amplify my abilities on the battlefield.

These warriors were trained specifically to fight with a Moonsinger. Timing, rhythm, and motion were the most important factors—they moved in sync with my energy. Rather than following orders, they responded to my instincts.

"Focus on the resonance," I called out, my voice carrying across the training field. "Feel the vibration in your core."

I twisted and slammed my elbow into the ribs of the warrior in front of me. His name was Garin. He grunted as he hit the ground. Sweat poured from us, steam rising in the cold morning air.

"Again," I said. _{frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓}

The warriors of twenty divided themselves into two equal groups, ten warriors in each group.

Ten of them came forward, forming a tight circle around me. We sparred in rotation—quick, brutal exchanges. No downtime. No comfort. This wasn't training for endurance – it was training for survival.

My voice couldn't be used inside an insulated battlefield, so we worked with eye signals, energy syncing, and pressure points. They had learned how to read my movements, shift when I shifted, and become my extension.

This was Ramsey's greatest gift to me. Because he knew that if there ever was a war, he might be too distracted to protect me. He worried that I might get entranced into my moonsinging – even though that has never happened, he didn't want to take chances. So, he created shields for me.

When I finished training with the ten warriors and entered the middle of the battle, each of them held a special crystal dagger that hummed in response to my singing. These weapons, crafted from rare moonstone, were designed primarily to conduct the energy of my voice directly into battle.

I started singing the battle song with a low hum that gradually built into a melodic pattern. The crystals in their daggers glowed brighter with each note. This was the most critical part of our training—synchronizing their movements to the fluctuations in my voice.

"Now!" I commanded, hitting a high, sharp note.

The warriors moved as one, slashing their daggers through the air in perfect unison. Energy rippled from the blades, creating a wave of force that knocked over the training dummies fifty feet away.

This same energy could knock down at least one hundred Ferals fifty feet away and give the non-elite warrior the advantage of fighting them before they regained enough energy to rise.

"Better," I said, nodding with approval. "But we need more precision. The timing between my peak note and your strike was off by half a second."

Killian, the lead warrior, wiped sweat from his brow. "It's difficult to predict exactly when your voice will crest, Moonsinger."

"That's why we practice," I replied. "In battle, that half-second could mean life or death."

We continued for another hour, repeating patterns until the warriors could anticipate the peaks and valleys of my singing with instinctive accuracy. By the end, even I was exhausted, my throat raw from sustaining the powerful notes and my muscles ached from sparring.

"That's enough for today," I announced, watching with satisfaction as the crystals dimmed to their normal state. "Do not practice after this; remember, we must conserve energy for unexpected events. We cannot go into the battlefield drained."

I turned to Garin. He was the head warrior of the other ten. "Take your men to the healers; they'll know what to do with you lot. Just tell them you came from me."

Garin nodded. He and the other warriors left the training ground together. I noticed Killian remained behind. He was Ramsey's distant cousin from his maternal side.

Killian approached me, offering a respectful bow. "We're improving, but not fast enough. Nathan's forces will be here tomorrow."

"I know," I said grimly. "But remember—you twenty are only part of our strategy. The ritual tonight will give us additional fighters."

"The Ferals," he said, his expression skeptical. "Can you really control them in battle?"

"I guess we'll find out," I replied, not wanting to admit my doubts.

A maid approached me with a bottle of water as Killian and his warriors dispersed to rest before their next training session. I accepted it gratefully, gulping down the cool liquid to soothe my throat.