She said she was preparing me for Call Week. But this,this, was never about strength.
It was sabotage.
She wasn't preparing me to win, to fight Elijah or Ryven; she was preparing me to lose, againsther.
She knows I can't access my reserves, that I can't unknot my Threads. She knows my emotions are a fucking mess. Shit, she knows every trick I’ve got. Hell, she taught me most of them.
Beth throws again.
I brace, muscles locked and drag another shield into place just as the impact lands, cracking through the air with the sting of raw magic.
A half second, I reach deep. Grip. Drag. My Threads bite as I force them into motion, ripping moisture from the air. My lungs burn, a violent rush crashing through my chest, every muscle screaming to strike—but I hold steady, teeth clenched, body straining.
Then I throw. Fast and crude. Power lashes out like a snapped tendon—But she’s already moving. Already sidestepping. Already smiling.
She goes again.
Another strike.
I throw another shield.
Another useless blast of magic that burns through more of what I can’t afford to lose. My legs start to go.
But she’s not going for damage. Not really.
She’s justplaying.
Prodding. Pressuring. Letting me waste my power in messy, desperate bursts while she barely lifts a finger.
Around me, the only sound now is static—magic fizzing against my ribs, burning out with nowhere to go. I’m starting to run on scraps, but I keep going.
Because I have to.
There’s no rhythm. No control. My Threads crackle under my skin, bloated and raw.
She strikes. I block. I retaliate. And each time, a little more of me slips away.
Fuck. I need more power, it's there, I know it is, I can feel it—Every Thread I've knotted, tangled from months of trying toforcethem into something useful. And she knows I can’t access them.
Something in me snaps taut, instinct flaring hard and fast. God, this whole fight? It’s a slow bleed. A setup. She’s baiting me to burn out. To spend everything. To leave myself empty. Andwhen that moment comes—when I’ve got nothing left—That’s when she’ll finally end it. So she can break meclean.
Another hit, another shield, another retaliation that misses.
I’m just bleeding energy. Bleeding focus. Bleeding the last fraying edge of control I have left.
Shit, shit, shit.I need to do something different, something she won't expect. I need to think.
“Is this about Talen?” I force out, breathless, trying to buy time as she stalks towards me. “You love him, and you think I took him from you?”
I yank at my knots, willing them to release, like they’re reins or something that’ll respond if I just pull hard enough.
But they only tighten.
Think Lyra, think.
Beth scoffs. “You think this is aboutlove?”
The silence in the Rec Hall is oppressive now. Thick as fog. The crowd’s gone, or maybe I’ve tuned them out completely.
