The wooden katana came at my head, and I moved.
It had been a week since I started training with Theron. Seven days of drilling Starlight Steps until my legs gave out, swinging this practice sword until my arms went numb, and sparring with Lyra every single morning—getting knocked down, getting back up, slowly learning what my body could actually do.
I stepped sideways, letting the blade pass inches from my face. A week ago, I would have frozen—thought too much, hesitated, and taken the hit. Now my body just moved on its own, no thinking involved.
Lyra didn't pause. Her other hand came around with a second strike, aiming for my ribs.
She'd been using two practice swords for the past few days, and honestly it was a little unfair how quickly she'd gotten good with them. Like she'd been born holding two blades. Every sparring session felt like fighting two people at once.
