{Elira}
~**^**~
TUESDAY.
Rennon's training mat smelled faintly of sweat and oil. And the lights in the small hall made the dust in the air look like slow snow.
I tightened my fingers around the practice staff like it was the only steady thing left in me.
Zenon stood by the doorway with folded arms and a set jaw while Lennon lounged near the far wall, watching with the same hungry amusement he always had when something promised chaos.
Rennon, on the other hand, calmly motioned me in close.
"Today I'm teaching you one thing you don't want to rely on," he said, voice low. "But it may save you if everything else has failed."
Zenon's nostrils flared. "If it fails, it will mark her. It's a lazy trick—a cunning shortcut. I don't approve of shortcuts that put the woman I claim at risk."
But Rennon didn't look up. "Zenon, it's not a shortcut if it spares lives. It's a last-resort protocol. If a fight goes where you cannot afford mistakes, you need options."
