The dimly lit cavern seemed alive, the flickering shadows cast by Lyra's lantern giving the walls an eerie, shifting presence. The stale, heavy air weighed on her lungs as she faced Kaidan, who stood before her with the commanding presence of a general. His ghostly form seemed tangible, more solid than a mere apparition. His translucent hand rested on the hilt of his spectral blade, its edge gleaming faintly in the gloom.
"You're not here to swing a sword—you're here to wield it," he declared, his voice cutting through the silence with the weight of a judgment.
The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Lyra barely had time to brace herself before he began.
Without warning, Kaidan raised his hand, and the cavern floor quaked. Pebbles and stones lifted into the air, spinning and shifting in a chaotic dance. "Dodge," he commanded, flicking his wrist. The stones shot toward her like arrows.
"What—?" Lyra started, but the first rock whizzed past her face, close enough to ruffle her hair.
"No questions. Move!"
She ducked instinctively as another stone hurtled toward her, then jumped aside to avoid a third. The strikes came faster, their unpredictable paths ricocheting off the walls. Lyra's boots skidded on the uneven ground as she struggled to keep her balance. Her breaths came in short gasps, panic rising as the onslaught continued.
A sharp sting on her thigh made her wince—she hadn't been fast enough. Another rock grazed her shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through her arm. "Focus!" Kaidan's voice boomed, relentless and unforgiving. "This is not a game. See the space around you, not just the projectiles. Dodge with purpose!"
Her frustration mounted as the barrage continued. She twisted, ducked, and rolled, her movements growing more desperate with each passing second. Then, the whispers in her armor stirred—a low, urgent hum in the back of her mind. They guided her, sharpening her instincts, urging her to move faster, more fluidly. Her body responded, her dodges becoming less frantic and more deliberate.
For a moment, it worked. She sidestepped a stone with ease, then leapt over another. Her movements felt almost effortless, the whispers amplifying her reflexes. But then the whispers surged, pushing her too far. Her strikes grew wild, her balance faltered, and she stumbled, falling hard onto the cavern floor.
"Discipline your mind!" Kaidan barked, his voice slicing through her frustration like a blade. "Raw power without control is a blade that cuts its wielder. Get up!"
Lyra gritted her teeth, pushing herself to her feet. She forced herself to block out the whispers, to focus on the pattern of the stones' movements. They weren't random—there was a rhythm to their trajectories, a logic she could exploit. She steadied her breathing and adjusted her stance. When the next rock came, she sidestepped it smoothly, then rolled under another, her body moving with calculated precision. The onslaught continued, but she didn't falter.
Finally, the stones fell to the ground with a clatter. Kaidan crossed his arms, his ghostly gaze piercing. "Better," he said, his tone begrudging. "Now we move on."
Lyra barely had time to catch her breath before Kaidan pointed toward a narrow path that wound through jagged stalagmites. "Run," he commanded. "Balance, speed, control—show me all of it. And if you fall, you start again."
Her legs ached from the dodging exercise, but she obeyed, sprinting toward the path. The uneven terrain was treacherous, the slick moss and loose gravel threatening to trip her with every step. She leaned forward, her arms pumping as she pushed herself forward. But her balance wavered, and she stumbled, her knee slamming against a rock.
"Lazy footing!" Kaidan snapped. "Again!"
Lyra gritted her teeth and climbed to her feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in her knee. She took off again, her movements more cautious this time. She focused on planting each step firmly, adjusting her weight to maintain her balance. The whispers in her armor stirred once more, urging her to go faster, to take risks. But she resisted their pull, determined to master the course on her own terms.
After several grueling attempts, she finally made it to the end of the path without faltering. Her chest heaved as she stood there, her legs trembling from the effort. Kaidan's expression remained unreadable as he floated toward her.
"Barely acceptable," he said, his tone as sharp as ever. "But we're not done yet."
Lyra groaned inwardly as Kaidan conjured his spectral blade. "Now," he said, gesturing for her to draw her weapon, "show me your stance."
Lyra lifted her sword, planting her feet firmly on the ground. Kaidan circled her like a predator, his gaze scrutinizing every aspect of her posture.
"Your grip is wrong," he said, tapping her wrist with the hilt of his blade. "Loosen it. A tight grip wastes energy. Strength comes from your core, not your hands."
Lyra adjusted her grip, her muscles aching from the effort. Kaidan continued his critique, correcting the angle of her blade, the position of her shoulders, even the tension in her knees. His commands came rapid-fire, leaving her no time to think.
"Your balance is off. Shift your weight forward."
"Your swing is weak. Power comes from the hips—use them!"
"Focus! Your enemy won't wait for you to get comfortable. Again!"
Hours passed in a blur of corrections and repetitions. Lyra's arms trembled as she swung her sword over and over, each motion slower and less precise than the last. The whispers in her armor grew louder, their chaotic energy threatening to overwhelm her. Several times, she felt herself losing control, her strikes becoming wild and erratic. Each time, Kaidan stopped her with a stern rebuke.
"You will not let them control you," he said firmly. "You are the wielder. They are the blade. If you forget that, you will fail."
By the time Kaidan called for a halt, Lyra was drenched in sweat, her body aching in ways she didn't think possible. She collapsed onto the cavern floor, her sword slipping from her grasp. Her chest heaved as she gulped in air, her limbs trembling with exhaustion.
Kaidan loomed over her, his spectral form glowing faintly in the dim light. For a moment, his gaze softened. "Rest while you can," he said, his voice quieter than before. "Tomorrow will be harder."
Lyra groaned softly, too tired to respond. As she lay there, staring up at the jagged ceiling of the cavern, she couldn't help but feel a strange mix of dread and determination. Kaidan's training was brutal, his standards impossibly high. But beneath his harsh exterior, she sensed a genuine desire to see her succeed.
As the lantern's light flickered and faded, Lyra closed her eyes, her body heavy with exhaustion but her mind alight with resolve. For all the pain and frustration, she felt like she was finally beginning to understand what it meant to wield a blade—not just as a weapon, but as an extension of herself.