Lyra's body aches before the sun even crested the trees.
Muscles she hadn't known existed throbbed. Her arms were sore from blocking. Her knuckles raw from striking. Her ribs still hummed from the sparring match with Rhea. Yet when the knock came at her door just after dawn, she was already tying her boots, jaw set.
She knew who it would be.
When she opened the door, it wasn't Alaric.
It was Kane the Alpha's Beta.
Broad-chested and silent as the grave, Kane looked down at her with no hint of emotion.
"Dress for combat," he said. "You start with the others today."
"The others?"
"The warriors. Don't expect special treatment." He didn't wait for a reply, just turned and walked off.
Lyra tied her hair back tightly, ignoring the tremble in her limbs. If they wanted to break her before the trials, they'd have to try harder. She wasn't here to impress anyone. She was here to survive.
And maybe just maybe to fight back.
The training grounds were alive by the time she arrived.
Wolves in human form stood in tight formations. Some were already paired off, circling one another. Others watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, judging every twitch. Weapons glinted from the racks, wooden staffs, dull-edged training swords, reinforced gloves.
Kane didn't announce her. He didn't need to.
As she stepped onto the field, conversations faltered. Eyes turned. Every single gaze that found her dripped with doubt. Distrust. Disgust.
She was the Bloodbound. The outsider. A rogue with a mark she hadn't earned.
Kane motioned for her to follow him to the center of the circle.
"Listen up," he called out, voice sharp and commanding. "This is Lyra. She's under Alpha protection. That means she trains like the rest of you, no holding back, no pampering."
Someone scoffed. Another warrior muttered something under his breath.
"She doesn't get out of trials. She doesn't get a shortcut to Luna. She earns it like anyone else or she fails," Kane added coldly. "Treat her like a warrior. Or a threat. That's your choice."
Lyra straightened her spine as several wolves glared at her like she didn't belong in the same air. She met their looks one by one.
Let them hate her. She wasn't here to be liked.
"Pair off," Kane ordered. "Basic drills. Then combat rotations."
Lyra barely had time to breathe before a tall, scarred man stepped into her path. He had shoulders like a boulder and a smirk that promised pain.
"I'll take the rogue," he said.
Kane gave no protest. The training began.
The man's name was Toren. Apparently, one of the more seasoned warriors. From the first punch, it was clear he wasn't interested in playing fair.
He went for her ribs repeatedly. Hit harder than necessary. Didn't stop when Kane barked warnings. Lyra bit back every wince and planted her feet harder with each blow.
She ducked a punch and sent her knee straight into his thigh. It didn't slow him much, but it earned her a surprised grunt. That was something.
"Careful," he muttered with a cruel grin. "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty little bond mark of yours."
She twisted, using her elbow to catch him in the stomach. "Worry about your own face, warrior."
He shoved her back, and for a moment, she nearly hit the ground but caught herself just in time. The impact jarred her spine.
Still, she stood.
Other warriors were beginning to pay attention now. They expected her to give up, to cry foul. But she stayed silent, only nodding when Kane rotated the pairs.
The next partner was leaner but faster. The next one is quicker still. Blow after blow, Lyra took hits, gave some back, and learned.
She learned who favored brute strength. Who moved like liquid. Who left their ribs open during a jab. Who couldn't stand being taunted.
And above all, she learned one brutal truth: no one here would go easy on her.
Hours passed.
Sweat dripped from her forehead. Her braid had come loose. Her lungs screamed for air. But she didn't stop, not when Kane called for endurance sprints, not when they dropped into bear crawls across the gravel, not when Toren tripped her mid-run and she skidded, palms torn raw.
She got up every time.
And when Kane called for a break, Lyra didn't sit down. She went to the water barrels with the others, drank, and kept moving.
"Why aren't you whining yet?" someone sneered as she passed.
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
Because as much as they hated her presence, a few pairs of eyes were beginning to change subtle, but there. A glint of reluctant acknowledgment. The barest shimmer of respect.
She wasn't the strongest. Or the fastest.
But she was still on her feet.
Near the end of the session, Kane called her aside.
She followed, silently cursing her limping gait. Her right ankle throbbed where it had twisted slightly in the last spar, but she pushed the pain aside.
They stopped near the edge of the field, where the trees cast long shadows over the grass.
"You didn't quit," Kane said simply.
"Was that the goal?" she asked, voice hoarse.
"For some." He crossed his arms, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. "You'll have more days like this. Worse. You're not ready for the Luna Trials."
"I don't need to be ready now," she said. "I just need to be better tomorrow."
That earned her the ghost of a nod.
"Good. Then be ready at dawn. Again."
She turned to leave but paused when he added, "Rhea didn't give you that bruise, did she?"
Lyra touched her side subconsciously. "No. That was Toren."
"He hates outsiders. But he's not the worst you'll face."
"I figured." She took a breath. "Why did you vouch for me?"
"I didn't," Kane said flatly. "I vouched for the Alpha's choice. Whether you survive or not is on you."
She nodded once, then walked away.
As she neared the exit path, she saw Alaric standing at the top of the ridge, arms crossed, watching the field. Watching her.
She held his gaze from across the distance.
He didn't speak.
But he didn't look away either.
And for the first time since arriving in Ravenguard, Lyra felt something strange stir in her chest.
It wasn't trust.
It wasn't hope.
But maybe it was something that could grow into both if the wolves didn't tear her apart first.