The morning passed in a blur of training, frustration, and fleeting moments of success. Each time Lyra reached for the power inside her, she could feel it, just beneath the surface, like a wave waiting to crash over her. But every time she tried to grasp it, it slipped away, leaving her breathless and exhausted.
Kael was patient, though his eyes darkened with the urgency that neither of them spoke about. He pushed her, coaxing her to try again and again, each attempt bringing her closer, but not close enough.
By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Lyra was drained, her muscles aching from the strain of the training. Her mind was spinning, filled with doubts and the constant pressure of knowing that Marcus could strike at any moment.
She collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily, the weight of her failures pressing down on her. "I can't do this," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not strong enough."
