Page 75 of Poison Sun

Amber

After failing to capture Lucas, and the craziness of the “field test” with the shadow souls in Central Park, training today is more intense than ever.

I’ve been sparring with Cassandra for well over an hour, and her movements are a blur of precision and power that I can barely keep up with. Every strike of her sword against my daggers sends a shockwave through my arms, a reminder of the decades of experience she has over me, and I’m weakening by the minute.

“You’re getting sloppy.” She steps back to give me a moment. “You’re letting your frustration cloud your judgment. You need to focus.”

She’s right, and I hate it. The more we spar, the more I feel myself slipping, making mistakes I wouldn’t usually make. It’s not just the physical exhaustion. It’s the mental drain—the nagging thought of yesterday’s failure with Lucas, the gradual loss of my magic, the continued silence from Morgan and Sunneva, and the nightly visits from the Shadow Lord in my dreams.

But Cassandra’s right. I need to focus.

I’ve been through a lot recently, but I won’t let it break me.

“Again,” I demand, tightening my grip on my daggers.

Cassandra gives me an approving nod.

Without another word, she attacks.

I meet her with renewed energy, pushing back my exhaustion and focusing on the movements, on the flow of the fight.

For a moment, I’m there, matching her move for move.

Eventually, my energy wanes, and my reactions slow.

Then, from the sidelines, a new voice cuts through the tension.

“Duck!” Abigail yells, and I obey, feeling Cassandra’s sword slice through the air above my head.

We spar with protective cases on our blades to stop them from giving us any serious injuries, but even so, that would have hurt.

Cassandra’s surprised enough by the interruption that I’m able to recover and take a few more stabs at her. I get close a few times, but she’s so impossibly fast that I’m unable to land any blows.

“Step left!” Abigail calls out again.

Instantly, I shift my weight, narrowly avoiding another of Cassandra’s calculated strikes.

But Cassandra is relentless. Her experience isn’t just in her movements—it’s in her anticipation, her ability to read and adapt to her opponent’s next move before it happens.

She’s wearing me down.

I want to use some of my remaining magic, but I resist.

I can’t rely on it. Not when I don’t know how long it will be until it’s barely there at all.

“To the right!” Abigail yells, and I sidestep, Cassandra’s sword meeting nothing but air.

I want to glance at Abigail to acknowledge my appreciation, but one second of not focusing on Cassandra will be the second she needs to send me to the ground.

We keep at it for another few minutes. I’m wearing down again, but every time I’m about to take a major blow, Abigail calls out another warning.

“Enough!” Cassandra halts, and she lowers her sword, her eyes narrowing as she turns to Abigail. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Abigail steps forward, her stance defiant, yet respectful. “I was helping,” she says. “Offering guidance and support. Trying to help Amber learn and improve.”

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s nothing but kindness, compassion, and even a bit of love in them.

I can’t help feeling like she was doing for me what she would have done for her daughter, Ruby.

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