The sun was just beginning to rise on the horizon, painting the sky with a soft orange hue, when Eliza collapsed onto the cold stone floor of the training field. Her breathing was irregular and labored, as if each inhalation was a struggle against the pain coursing through her body. Sweat ran down her forehead in thick drops, pasting strands of dark hair to her pale skin. Every muscle in her body seemed to be on fire, and her hands trembled slightly as she tried to maintain the knife in position for so long. In front of her, Luna was kneeling, her gaze fixed on the ground, her usual stoic expression blurred by fatigue. It was rare to see her like this, vulnerable, almost human.
"Still alive?" Luna asked between pants, dropping her knife to the ground with a metallic clink that resonated in the dawn's silence. Her washed-out pink hair was soaked, and the black t-shirt she wore clung to her skin like a second layer, marking every curve of her body with precision.
