The sound of fists striking padded leather still echoed faintly in the training hall. Amara’s palms stung, the ache running up through her wrists and into her shoulders, but she hadn’t complained once. Sweat beaded along her brow, dampening strands of her dark hair as she finally lowered her stance.
Across from her, Lila dropped her guard, a small smile playing across her lips. “Better,” she said, breathing evenly. “Much better. You’re beginning to anticipate instead of just reacting. That’s the first step toward real control.”
Amara wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “You make it sound so simple.”
Lila tilted her head, walking a slow circle around her. “It’s never simple. But it becomes muscle memory. Someday you won’t have to think before your body knows what to do. That da
