POV: Lyra

I woke to the sound of blades.

The clash of steel on steel rang through the camp, sharp and relentless. I was on my feet before my eyes fully opened, hand reaching for the knife beneath my pillow.

Old habits.

I pulled on my boots and stepped out of the tent.

The camp was alive.

Warriors trained in the center of the valley, their movements precise and brutal. No wasted motion. No hesitation. A woman with a scar across her face disarmed a man twice her size and had him on his back in the dirt before he could blink.

She looked up.

Our eyes met.

She did...