“Hmm. Could’ve fooled me. You’ve got that look.”
I frown. “What look?”
“Like you’re trying to untangle a knot and every time you pull, it just gets tighter.” Lyra lifts a brow, curious. But she’s watching me now—not him. “Everything okay in lovers-ville?”
I bristle instantly. “What?”
She gestures lazily toward Thane. “You guys are being weird. Like you’re together but not together.”
I shake my head, exhaling sharply. “You’re reading too much into it.”
Lyra hums, eyes narrowing as she watches me.
“I don’t think I am.” Her gaze flicks back to me. “The others think you’re just broody because training’s brutal. I know better.”
She sighs. “I’m here when you’re done lying to yourself.”
A beat. Then, softer—real.
“I’ve got you when you’re ready.”
The next day, I still feel the weight of it all.
The outpost training grounds stretch wide, the dirt compacted beneath boots, the scent of fire and sweat thick in the morning air. The sun is still low, casting long shadows against the stone walls.
And today, those shadows are moving.
Valen stands at the edge of the circle, his staff pressed into the dirt, his deep voice steady as he begins the summoning. Today, we’re fighting as a team, practicing how to move together, how to cover each other’s weaknesses.
The air warps, dark tendrils coiling outward, twisting, shifting. The temperature plummets, an unnatural cold seeping into my skin. Then, the first training wraiths take shape. Fellborns.
They flicker, half-formed, slipping between shadow and substance, their bodies twisting unnaturally as they solidify before me. Wraiths. Still only shadows of the real thing.
“You know what to do,” Valen says simply.
I roll my shoulders, exhaling.
I can do this. This is why I train. This is why I push myself. To be ready.
I lunge, fire roaring to life in my palm as I strike first.
The wraiths move fast, twisting, slipping through the flames. But I don’t hesitate. Water follows fire, sharp and cutting. Wind howls, forcing the creatures back. Earth steadies me as I dodge, twisting, maneuvering.
I land a solid blow—a spear of ice straight through one of the Fellborn’s chest. The wraith lets out a distorted screech before dissolving.
I exhale, pushing sweaty hair from my face.
Other Fellborn wraiths move forward. This time, Lyra moves beside me, then Garrick, Jarek, Rian—we move together, fluid, learning each other’s strengths, weaknesses, how to cover gaps, how to trust.
It is grueling. Fast.
And just as I’m finding my rhythm—his presence cuts through everything.
Thane steps in.
We spar together against the wraiths, him beside me, not behind, not leading, just there. Our movements sync incredibly easily. His flames burn hotter than mine. His blade moves like an extension of his will.
I should be watching the wraiths. I should be focused. But for a brief second, I see something else I maybe didn’t notice before.
