The next barrage of attacks was merciless. Braxton's strikes rained down on her with unrelenting force, driving her back, forcing her to block, to dodge, to scramble. Her muscles burned, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. She could feel her strength waning, every movement slower, more sluggish.
"Come on, girl," Braxton growled, his voice cutting through the haze of exhaustion. "You said you wanted this. You said you wanted power. Is this all it takes to break you?"
Nyra's vision blurred, sweat and tears mingling on her cheeks. Her arms felt like lead, her legs ready to give out beneath her. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to stop, to drop the sword and collapse, to give up.
But she couldn't. She wouldn't.
With a cry of defiance, she swung her sword again, the force of the blow sending a jolt of pain through her arms. Braxton blocked it easily, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—respect, maybe, or recognition. It didn't matter. Nyra pressed forward, forcing her body to move, to keep fighting, even as every breath felt like it might be her last.
Time blurred into a haze of pain and movement. She lost track of how many times she stumbled, how many times she felt herself teetering on the brink of collapse, only to force herself back up. Braxton's strikes were relentless, but somewhere in the chaos, she began to find a rhythm, a desperate, instinctual dance that kept her moving, kept her on her feet.
And then, finally, it was over.
Braxton stepped back, lowering his sword. Nyra staggered, her body screaming in protest, but she kept her grip on the hilt of her practice sword, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
"You made it," Braxton said, his voice almost soft.
Nyra looked up at him, her vision swimming. "What?"
Braxton nodded toward the horizon, where the first rays of sunlight were breaking over the rooftops of Halthor. "An hour," he said. "You lasted an hour."
Nyra blinked, the words barely registering. She had done it. She had made it through the test. A wave of relief and disbelief washed over her, so powerful that her legs finally gave out, and she collapsed to her knees.
Braxton sheathed his sword, his expression thoughtful. "You're stubborn," he said, almost to himself. "More stubborn than I thought."
Nyra could barely speak, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Does that mean…?"
Braxton looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. "It means you've earned another lesson. Tomorrow. Same time."
Nyra felt a surge of triumph, too tired to smile but too elated to care. She had done it. She had proven herself. She nodded, her whole body trembling with exhaustion.
"Good," Braxton said, his voice firm. "Now go home. Rest. You'll need it."
Nyra struggled to her feet, her muscles protesting with every step. She nodded again, too drained to speak. As she turned to leave, she felt Braxton's gaze on her back, a heavy, considering weight.
"And Nyra," he called after her, his voice almost gentle.
She turned, her eyes meeting his.
"You've got heart," he said. "But heart alone won't keep you alive. Remember that."
Nyra nodded, her throat tight. She turned and walked away, every step a battle against the exhaustion threatening to pull her down.
But as she made her way back through the empty streets, the dawn light warming her face, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
_____________________________________________
By the time she returned to the small room she shared with Saris, the city was beginning to stir, the noise and bustle of the waking day filtering through the thin walls. Nyra collapsed onto the floor, her whole body aching, her mind spinning.
She had done it. She had faced Braxton's test, had pushed herself past her limits, and she had made it. She had proven that she was more than just a street rat, more than just a thief.
She was going to learn. She was going to fight. And she was going to become something more.
As she lay there, her eyes closing, exhaustion pulling her into sleep, she thought of Braxton's words.
"You've got heart. But heart alone won't keep you alive."
He was right. She would need more than just determination. She would need skill, discipline, and strength. She would need to become something greater than she had ever imagined.
But for the first time, she believed that she could.