The training yard wasn't a yard at all. It was a cavern, wide and dim, lit by hanging lanterns that threw long, wavering shadows against the jagged walls. The ground was a mix of dirt and stone, stained darker in places where past lessons had ended badly.
Lyra stood near the edge, her arms crossed, watching like a hawk as Aria faced three wolves. Not ordinary wolves—larger, their fur etched with faint black markings like the runes on our chains. Their eyes glowed faintly red.
"These aren't packmates," I muttered, stepping closer to Aria before the trial began. "They're bonded shadows. Controlled, but barely. If they get too close, that thing inside you will stir."
Aria glanced at me, her silver-flecked eyes narrowing. "And if it stirs?"
"Then you don't lose yourself," I said firmly. "You control it. Don't let it control you."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Easy for you to say."
Lyra's voice cut through the air, smooth and commanding. "Begin."
The wolves moved first, circling, their movements unnervingly in sync. Aria dropped into a low stance, her claws half-shifted, silver glints sparking faintly along her fingertips.
The first wolf lunged. She met it head-on, twisting and slashing, but her strike barely grazed its side before the second wolf barreled into her ribs. She staggered, but didn't fall.
I felt my muscles tense, every instinct screaming to jump in, but Lyra's gaze burned into me like a warning. "If you interfere, she fails," she murmured, loud enough for me to hear.
Aria ducked another swipe, her breath ragged. The silver light in her veins began to pulse, brighter, faster. The runes on the cavern floor flared faintly in response.
"Aria," I said, voice low but steady. "Breathe. Don't fight it. Guide it."
The third wolf lunged. Aria spun, her glow flaring as her claws sliced through the air. The strike connected—too hard. The wolf yelped, thrown against the wall with a crack that echoed through the cavern. The other two froze, hackles rising.
Aria's glow spread further, crawling up her arms, licking along her shoulders like silver fire. Her breath came in shallow bursts. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
I moved closer, ignoring Lyra's warning glare. "Aria. Look at me."
She did—and for a second, I didn't see her. Her gaze was hollow, her lips parting as if to speak, but the voice that emerged wasn't hers.
"Free me," it hissed, layered and echoing.
I grabbed her shoulders, heat biting into my palms from the glow. "No. You're not a vessel. You're Aria. You hear me? You don't serve it. It bends to you."
Her breath hitched, the silver fire flickering, sputtering. Her fingers dug into my arms hard enough to draw blood, but her focus shifted—away from the thing inside her and back to me.
The glow dimmed, crawling back beneath her skin.
The wolves backed away, tails low. Lyra clapped once, slow and deliberate. "Better. Barely. She'll need far more work before she's of any use."
I shot her a glare but didn't speak. My focus was on Aria, who trembled against me, not from fear, but from holding the power down.
Her head rested briefly against my shoulder. "If I lose it again… will you still stop me?"
I met her gaze, the faint glow still lingering in her silver-flecked eyes. "Every time. Even if it kills me."
Something unspoken passed between us then—not forgiveness, not yet, but something dangerous and unyielding, like the bond we'd both tried to bury.
Lyra's voice snapped the moment apart. "Rest while you can. Tomorrow, the real trial begins."
Aria lifted her head, her jaw tightening. "What we just did wasn't real?"
Lyra's smile was sharp. "That was just the warm-up."