The day began with Kaidan standing silently in the center of the cavern, his spectral form radiating a weight that made the air feel thick. Lyra approached him, her sword already in hand, sensing the gravity of what was to come. She had grown used to his commands, his relentless drilling, but something in his stance—unwavering, still as stone—made her stomach tighten with anticipation.
"Today," Kaidan said at last, his voice cutting through the cavern like the edge of a blade, "we fight."
Lyra blinked, uncertain if she had heard him correctly. "We... fight?" she echoed, her grip tightening on her sword.
"You've trained, you've learned, and you've endured," Kaidan continued, his tone devoid of its usual edge of critique. "Now, you'll show me if you can apply it. And if you can survive."
Before she could ask what he meant, Kaidan stretched his hand outward. A faint glow emanated from his palm, coalescing into a second figure. It was another version of himself—a spectral projection, yet solid enough to be unnervingly real. This Kaidan looked as imposing as the one who stood before her, his blade shimmering with ghostly energy.
The real Kaidan took a step back, leaving his projection to face her. "This is no simple exercise," he said. "This is a test of everything you've learned. Your technique, your resolve, your control over the whispers. I'll exploit every flaw, press every weakness. If you falter, you'll feel it. And if you break, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."
Lyra swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her blade, planting her feet in the stance Kaidan had drilled into her over the past weeks. "I'm ready," she said, though the quiver in her voice betrayed her nerves.
"Prove it."
The projection moved first, lunging at her with startling speed. Lyra barely managed to parry the strike, the clash of their blades ringing out through the cavern. The force of the impact reverberated up her arms, a harsh reminder that this was no sparring match. Kaidan's projection was relentless, his strikes coming in quick succession, each one faster and more precise than the last.
Lyra countered as best she could, drawing on the techniques she had painstakingly practiced. Her footwork kept her from losing ground, her blade deflecting blow after blow. But Kaidan's projection was an unforgiving opponent. Every hesitation, every misstep was punished with a sharp slash or a blow that sent her staggering.
"Your footing is weak," Kaidan called out, his real voice ringing with cold critique. "Again."
Lyra gritted her teeth and adjusted, forcing herself to focus. She tried to use the whispers, letting their energy enhance her movements. For a moment, it worked—her strikes grew faster, her reactions sharper. But the whispers were fickle, and as they surged through her, they threatened to overwhelm her control. Her strikes grew erratic, her breathing uneven.
"Sloppy," Kaidan barked. "If you can't control yourself, you're already dead."
The projection pressed its advantage, driving Lyra back with a flurry of strikes. She stumbled, barely managing to deflect a blow aimed at her shoulder. Her muscles screamed in protest, her vision blurring as fatigue set in.
"You're slowing down," Kaidan said, his voice cold and unrelenting. "This is where most break. Will you?"
Lyra faltered under a particularly heavy strike, her knees buckling as she blocked it. Her grip on her sword slipped, and for a moment, she thought it would fall from her hands entirely. The whispers surged again, desperate and chaotic, filling her head with noise that threatened to drown out her thoughts.
"I—" she began, but the words caught in her throat. The projection advanced, its blade raised for another strike.
And then, amidst the chaos, she remembered Kaidan's words. It's not about power; it's about certainty. She thought of everything he had told her about purpose, about fighting not for strength but for something greater. She thought of the spirits she had encountered—the grieving mother, the lost souls who lingered in this cave. She thought of her own journey, the reasons she had taken up her sword in the first place.
The whispers shifted, their chaotic energy softening into something more focused. Lyra gripped her sword tighter, drawing on the whispers not as a source of raw power but as an extension of herself. She rose to her feet, her movements steadier now, her resolve unshaken.
When the projection struck again, she met it head-on. Her blade moved with newfound precision, deflecting the attack and following up with a counterstrike that forced the projection to retreat. She pressed forward, her strikes sharper, her footwork surer. For the first time, she felt as though she was not just reacting but anticipating, her body and mind working in unison.
Kaidan's projection did not relent, but neither did Lyra. The battle dragged on, each clash of their blades testing her endurance and resolve. Her muscles ached, her breathing was ragged, but she refused to yield. Every time she faltered, she pushed herself harder, drawing on the whispers for just enough strength to keep going.
Finally, the projection landed a blow that sent her sprawling to the ground. Her sword clattered from her grasp, and she lay there, panting and spent, unable to rise. She braced herself for the final strike, but it never came. When she looked up, Kaidan's projection was gone, his spectral form standing over her instead.
"You've endured," he said, his tone softer now, tinged with approval. "And that's the first step toward mastery."
Lyra forced herself to sit up, her body trembling with exhaustion. She looked up at Kaidan, the weight of his words sinking in. She had not won the battle, but she had survived it. And in surviving, she had proven something—to him, and to herself.
"Rest," Kaidan said, stepping back. "Tomorrow, we refine what you've learned. But for now, take pride in this: you've passed the hardest test yet."
As Lyra leaned against the cavern wall, her sword resting beside her, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time—hope. She had faced Kaidan's trial and emerged on the other side, bruised but unbroken. The road ahead was still long, but for the first time, she felt as though she could walk it.