The crisp morning air was shattered by the sharp sound of my boots skimming across the damp earth as I ducked beneath a massive, sweeping hook.
Demetrius was definitely holding back, but he wasn’t treating me like glass, either. He was moving with a steady, calculated pace—fast enough to force my wolf reflexes to scream at me to react, but slow enough that I could actually track his form through the early mist. He was testing my boundaries, pushing me to see exactly how my newfound magical control integrated with the physical combat skills I had fought so hard to master.
He threw a quick, testing jab toward my shoulder. I leaned back, letting the blow skim inches from my skin, and used the momentum to pivot on my heel. As I spun, I willed a sharp burst of smoky violet magic to ignite at
