POV: Luna
Two weeks after Miguel's death, and I'm still training like my life depends on it.
Because it does.
I'm on the training grounds before dawn. Stay until after dark. Push myself past exhaustion every single day.
Ryder tries to slow me down, but I won't listen.
"You're going to hurt yourself," he says as I attempt another complex combat sequence.
My muscles are screaming. My vision blurs from fatigue.
"Good," I say. "I deserve it."
"Luna—"
"Don't." I spin and face him. "Don't tell me I need rest. Don't tell me I'm pushing too hard. I need to be stronger. Need to be better. Need to be someone who can actually protect the people I care about."
Ryder's expression softens. "You can't train away grief."
"No. But I can train away weakness."
I go back to the sequence. Attack. D
