Avyanne's pov

The morning broke cold and gray, a thin mist curling around the training grounds like fingers

determined to strangle the last of my strength. The clang of steel rang sharp against the silence,

punctuated by the bark of commands from Logan. He stood tall and rigid, arms folded across

his chest, his hazel eyes narrowed with the kind of precision that could slice through bone.

“Again,” he said, his voice flat, sharp, merciless.

My arms trembled as I raised the wooden staff he’d ...