The structured rigor of Mira’s training became my new anchor. Each dawn, we returned to the secluded grove. The exercises grew more complex: maintaining the spark while walking a straight line, splitting my focus to hold a light in each palm, learning to pull the energy back before it could flare out of control. It was mental and physical torture, a relentless honing of my will. My body ached with a new kind of fatigue, but my mind felt sharper, clearer.
Yet, the peace of the grove was a lie. The moment I stepped back into the heartbeat of the Keep, the politics and poisons of pack life awaited.
Lyra, it seemed, had not been idle.
The whispers began subtly. I’d enter a room, and conversations would stutter, replaced by overly bright smiles and furtive glances. At first, I thought it was
