MasukLYRA“The final cadet starting warrior training — Maria López.”My stomach sinks. Tabitha didn’t make it.I swallow hard, forcing myself to keep my face neutral as the weight of it settles in. Tabitha fought like hell. She deserved better. And yet, Maria is staying in her place. Bittersweet doesn’t even begin to cover it.I glance sideways at Nessa, and her expression mirrors my own shock. Her jaw tightens, eyes flicking briefly toward Tabitha. Whatever she’s feeling, she doesn’t let it linger long. She opens the program handed to her, already shifting into what’s next mode.I follow suit as the cadets who have been eliminated are immediately ushered out of the hall in a neat line.First thing I see on my program? No more five o’clock runs. And I nearly laugh out loud. It looks like the fresh cadets get the privilege of pre-dawn suffering, because our first official day starts at six.That’s a whole extra hour of sleep.Goddess bless whoever made that decision. Life is suddenly beau
ZANE It is nearly ten at night when all the cadets are called back into the training hall. They shuffle in slowly, exhaustion etched into every line of their bodies. The room smells faintly of sweat and disinfectant, and my eyes sweep the room out of habit. Assessing. Evaluating. Cataloguing strengths and weaknesses the way I always do. And then they stop. Lyra. She is freshly showered, I can tell immediately. The hair of her ponytail is still damp, curling softly at the nape of her neck. That beautiful blonde is darker where the water hasn’t fully dried. She has changed into clean training gear, though it doesn’t look like one of her sets. The shirt is oversized, something I have never seen her wear before. Her scent is different now. Muted. Subtle. The rich chocolate note I’ve come to associate with her is quieter, tucked beneath soap and steam. It doesn’t hit me the way it did earlier — when she was soaked in sweat. That scent had slammed into me like a jolt. Yet this one
LYRAFor a second, neither of us moves.Nessa’s chest is still rising fast beneath me, sweat-slick and heaving, and my own pulse is finally slowing from war-drums to something human again. Releasing the hold, I roll back onto my heels.I hold a hand out to her. She takes it immediately and her grip of steady. When she gets to her feet, she pulls me into a hug. A real one. It feels firm, and… oddly familiar.Which is… weird. Considering I’ve never hugged her before. Ever.Her chin rests on my shoulder, her arms tight around me, and I stiffen automatically. My every instinct flares, but I force myself to relax. “Hell of an elimination,” she murmurs into my ear.“Yeah,” I mutter, and she laughs softly.She lets go before it gets awkward, thank the goddess.“You may rest while the rest of the cadets continue their eliminations,” one of the judges says, his voice flat as stone. “Once all tests have been completed, you will be called to return.”And just like that, we’re dismissed.No fanf
Lyra The hour between tests does this fun little trick where it crawls like it’s dying… and somehow still sprints past when I’m not ready. Nessa and I are sprawled on hard wooden benches in the locker room of the communal training hall, forty minutes into ‘relaxing,’ which mostly involves sweating, overthinking, and slowly going numb from the ass down. We’re waiting outside the stupid hall as this morning. With the same judges. And the same smug energy waiting inside. They’ve been camped out there all day, watching cadets cycle through like entertainment. Probably sipping espresso. Probably judging my posture, my breathing, my existence. The first two cadets are already in for the final test, but every ten minutes, another team gets called in. And of course, the old fucks we call judges make you spar with the same teammate you ran the obstacle course with. Which is a huge problem. Because I’ve never sparred with Nessa. Hell, I haven’t sparred any cadet in what feels like fo
LYRAThe next door opens, and I almost groan in relief. Thank fuck the stupid rock maze gave my arms just enough time to stop screaming. They still ache, but it’s the manageable kind now. The kind I can work through. The next room is long and wide, stark and industrial. Targets line the far wall in neat lanes. Along one side, weapons are mounted with almost reverent precision. Knives. Pistols. Bows and arrows. Okay, here we go. Nessa and I start with the knives. We get one lane, one target, and three knives each. Desperate not to waste time we step up together. I focus on my stance and perfecting my grip. We throw simultaneously. Nessa’s knife thuds solidly into the target, but mine barely sticks at the bottom edge. Fuck. I close my eyes and force myself to breathe. ‘Focus. Stop rushing.’ Zane’s commanding voice cuts through my frustration. Goddess help me, it actually calms me down. I pick up the second knife, take a moment to loosen my grip, and throw. It hits the sid
LYRAOf course this is what the next obstacle is would be. My arms are already aching in protest, but of course this is what we get.Right in front of us, there are two lanes, side by side, suspended over a large open space.Fucking monkey bars.The bars stretch for at least fifteen meters and they’re spaced just a little farther apart than normal. The drop beneath them isn’t massive, but it’s more than enough to hurt.I glance at Nessa and we both look at the timer, the red numbers rapidly changing. We’re already bleeding seconds.The rope between us is still taut, and my harness is digging painfully into my shoulders. Nessa’s skin around her harness is a bright, angry red, but she doesn’t even flinch as we take our places beneath our lanes.“Ready?” Nessa asks.I nod at her, even though my hands are already shaking. And together we jump. Thank the goddess there seems to be no tricks this time.The first bar holds perfectly.So does the second.I’m hit with a wave of relief as we ra







