The training room echoed with silence.
Lira's blade pressed against the training dummy's throat—steady, unshaking. The guards who used to laugh at her weakness now watched from the corners, uneasy. She was no longer entertainment. She was becoming something else.
Something useful.
Kael wasn't in the room. He hadn't been since yesterday. And Seren hadn't said a word about him.
Lira's heart twisted.
She couldn't ask. Couldn't seem too attached.
So she asked something else.
"Who watches these sessions?" she said, wiping sweat from her brow.
Seren tilted her head. "Why?"
Lira shrugged. "Just wondering if my progress is being... appreciated."
Seren smiled, that same careful tilt of lips. "The Council watches. But not all of them. Just one."
"One?"
Seren didn't answer. She turned and left, her coat trailing like a curtain closing on truth.
And Lira, blade in hand, felt the air shift behind her. A presence.
Someone was watching.
Not from the cameras.
From closer.
She didn't turn around.
Didn't need to.
Because the hair on her neck stood up.
And her plan—whatever it was becoming—had just found a new complication.