There's a hole in my heart that's bleeding
Turning to see Damien, Noah nodded and welcomed the man. His words washed over him and Noah tilted his head slightly, but kept his features glacial.
The tundra broke men just as easily as it hardened them, and most who wore confidence like that wore it like armor, a brittle cover for something else. Noah couldn’t help wondering where that certainty had been forged. Was Damien’s calm the tempered steel of survival, hammered by years of scraping life from Halo’s harsh edge? Or was it the kind of bravado that cracked at the first real blow, a front to keep others from glimpsing weakness?
Glacier eyes swept over him, weighing. He spoke as a man who knew his strength, and knew how to wield it. Still, Noah had seen plenty falter when strength alone wasn’t enough. His jaw feathered. Soon enough, the bear would find out which kind of confidence Damien carried--because it wasn't the confidence Noah did, as a man who had looked at the Core embedded within Caido itself, ripping himself free of the Core's visions and illusions.
Time would tell.
The shift came swift, practiced. A seamless flood of magic that remade him bone and sinew, skin and fur. His frame expanded, towering, coat erupting into thick white fur. Claws dug into the packed snow with a sound like steel biting ice, and the cold that had bit at his lungs moments before no longer touched him. Where Noah had stood, the polar bear loomed--massive, heavy-muscled, shoulders rolling with contained force.
A low growl rumbled deep in his chest, shaking the air. Not a threat, not quite, but a promise: he would not hold back, to Damien's level. Noah knew the reservations he needed to have.
Noah’s muscles bunched. The ground quaked beneath the first stride, claws tearing through the crusted snow. Another step, heavier, faster, driving his weight forward with frightening speed for such a hulking form. A roar tore from his throat, rolling through the training yard like thunder as he bore down on Damien.
He did not slash or bite. His aim was sheer force. To crash against Damien like an avalanche, to test if the man’s calm could withstand the bear’s storm—or if that calm would break to reveal bravado underneath. He lowered his massive head, shoulders driving forward, every pound of his weight honed into the momentum of a charge meant to knock Damien from his feet.
1/4
But its given me strength I needed to carry on
