(October 04, 1987)
Exactly a month had passed since Astraea, Alon, and Arnav began their rigorous training. They had improved significantly, but they were acutely aware that they still fell short of their ultimate goal.
"This is the last day of vampire training," Ophelia announced, a rare, foreign smile gracing her lips. "Tomorrow, you will begin witch training."
Astraea nodded, her mind racing as she got up to look out the window. The sun cast golden rays over the training grounds, illuminating Alon as he practiced with his daggers. Watching him fight the instructor was like observing a beautifully choreographed dance; each movement was fluid and precise, the artistry in his combat undeniable.
If Astraea were human, she would barely be able to catch his swift movements. Tools—that's what she constantly reminded herself of, as she steeled her heart against the bonds that had begun to form between them.
