Yesterday, walking into the training pits felt like stepping into a cage—a place of cold stone and echoing judgment where I was a runt trying to prove I deserved to breathe the same air as warriors. But today, the atmosphere had shifted. As Athena and I rounded the final corner of the spiral staircase, the air didn't feel heavy; it felt electric, charged with a frequency only I could tune into.
The pits were already buzzing. Several squads of elite Lycan guards were mid-drill, their heavy footfalls shaking the floor and the metallic tang of sweat and iron hanging thick in the air. But my eyes went straight to the center ring, and the breath died in my throat.
Demetrius was there, hunched over a map on a stone plinth with a commander, and he looked absolutely lethal. He had traded his reg
