The week passed in a blur of sweat, exhaustion, and relentless training. Lucian's days were consumed by a punishing regimen designed to push him to his limits—and then beyond. Each session seemed more grueling than the last, leaving him drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The Shadow Citadel's training chambers were a marvel of cutting-edge technology and arcane design, a blend of science fiction and sorcery that both fascinated and terrified him.
The training was varied and intense. Sparring sessions with Amelia were brutal, her strikes calculated and unrelenting. She had no patience for mistakes, correcting him sharply when his form faltered or his timing lagged. The reflex drills with hovering drones were no better, forcing him to dodge, deflect, and counter their unpredictable attacks. Some days, he worked with strength-building machines that mimicked shifting gravity, each adjustment forcing his muscles to adapt in real time. Other days, he tackled obstacle courses with dynamic layouts that changed mid-run, testing his agility and quick thinking.
The telekinesis training was by far the most humbling part of Lucian's regimen. He was taken to a chamber dedicated entirely to honing abilities, its walls lined with glowing runes that thrummed with energy. The air in the room was heavy, charged with the faint hum of magic amplifiers that made the space feel alive.
Targets floated erratically through the air, their movements erratic and unpredictable. Lucian's task was to stop them mid-flight or redirect their trajectory using only his mind. It sounded simple enough in theory, but in practice, it was a nightmare.
"Focus," Amelia's voice echoed through the chamber, sharp and demanding. "You're not throwing a tantrum. You're controlling a force. Precision, not brute effort."
Lucian gritted his teeth, his brow furrowing as he extended his hand toward a small disc spinning erratically in front of him. A faint flicker of energy pulsed at his fingertips, but the disc barely wobbled before it zipped away.
"Again," Amelia commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Lucian exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. He tried to focus on the sensation of the object, its weight and movement. The room fell silent except for the low hum of the amplifiers. He reached out with his mind, willing the disc to stop. This time, it shuddered mid-air, hovering for a split second before falling to the ground with a clatter.
Amelia's lips twitched in what might have been approval. "Better. Now do it again, but keep it suspended."
The hours dragged on as Lucian repeated the exercises, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt. The targets increased in size and speed, testing not only his concentration but his patience. By the end of the session, he had managed to suspend three objects at once for a few fleeting moments, a feat that left him both drained and oddly proud.
Every night, Lucian would drag his aching body back to Selene's chambers, collapsing onto the plush bed that had become his refuge. Without fail, Selene was always waiting for him, a tray of steaming soup in hand. The flavors varied—spiced one night, sweet and tangy the next—but the effects were always the same. Each bowl eased the pain in his body, rejuvenated his energy, and left him feeling stronger.
"You're late tonight," Selene said one evening as he stumbled into the room, her voice laced with amusement. She was seated on the edge of the bed, her elegant figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the enchanted window. "Were you trying to impress Amelia?"
Lucian groaned, flopping onto the bed without a word. "If by 'impress' you mean 'not die,' then yes."
Selene chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. "Amelia doesn't coddle her students. You should be grateful she's investing her time in you."
"Grateful?" Lucian muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I think she wants to kill me."
Selene picked up the bowl of soup and stirred it lazily, her gaze fixed on him. "Come here, pet."
Lucian turned his head slightly, eyeing her warily. "Can't I just eat on myself?"
"No," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Feeding you is a pet duty, after all."
Grumbling under his breath, Lucian sat up and moved closer. Selene held the spoon to his lips, her smirk deepening as he reluctantly took the first bite. The warmth of the soup spread through him, easing the tension in his muscles.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Immensely," Selene replied, her voice dripping with amusement. "Now, eat."
Their conversation continued between bites, shifting from teasing remarks to more personal topics. Selene asked about his training, her questions surprisingly genuine.
"And your telekinesis?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Progress?"
Lucian shrugged. "It's slow. Sometimes I think the targets are mocking me."
Selene laughed softly. "Patience, Lucian. Power doesn't come overnight."
"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You're already at the top."
Selene's gaze softened, her smile fading slightly. "It wasn't always that way."
Before Lucian could press her further, she held another spoonful of soup to his lips, effectively silencing him. He sighed and took the bite, the warmth lulling him into a state of drowsy contentment.
As the meal ended, Lucian leaned back against the pillows, his eyelids growing heavy. "You're too good at this," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
"Of course I am," Selene said, her smirk returning. She brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment. "Rest now, pet. You'll need your strength for tomorrow."
Lucian's response was a soft murmur as he drifted off, the exhaustion of the day finally claiming him. Selene watched him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before whispering, "Goodnight, Lucian."