The crisp air of the third morning bit at my skin as I navigated the familiar path through the dark woods. Over the last two days, this routine had become muscle memory. I had slipped out of bed while the sky was still a deep, inky black, leaving a peacefully sleeping Demetrius tangled in the sheets, completely oblivious to my absence.
When I reached my designated training tree, I didn’t waste any time. I dropped into my stance and immediately began the fluid sequence I had been drilling into my body—snapping jabs, sharp ducks, and rapid spins, sending bursts of smoky violet power cutting through the early morning mist.
I was definitely getting better. The relentless repetition was finally paying off.
Instead of flying wildly into the brush, my magical bolts were actually finding the tr
