The morning broke with the scent of dew and iron. The courtyard of the Northern Forest pack was alive with movement—wolves in their human forms preparing for combat training, swords gleaming under the sun, the rhythmic sound of fists meeting flesh echoing through the clearing.
Lyra stood at the centre, her auburn hair pulled back, sweat glistening against her skin as she sparred with two warriors. Aelira hummed inside her mind, proud and fierce. “You’re getting faster. Stronger. They can’t look at you as weak anymore.”
Lyra grinned faintly, ducking beneath a punch and flipping her opponent over her shoulder. “I’m trying,” she whispered breathlessly.
From the edges of the field, Lucian watched, arms folded, his expression unreadable but his aura pulsing with pride. Every move she made st
