The clang of steel against steel echoed through the training yard as Adrian drove his blade into the practice dummy. His movements were sharp, aggressive, and relentless. Sweat glistened on his brow, his shirt clinging to his chest from the effort. The repetitive strikes were less about skill and more about venting the storm raging inside him.
Isla stood at the edge of the yard, watching silently. Her presence was calm but firm, a stark contrast to Adrian’s simmering anger. She finally stepped forward, her voice cutting through the rhythmic strikes. “You’re killing yourself.”
Adrian didn’t stop. His blade sliced through the air again, embedding into the wooden dummy with a dull thud. “Better me than her,” he said, his voice low and bitter.
Isla frowned and moved closer, her gaze fixed on him. “That’s not how this works, Adrian. You can’t take her burdens and make them yours. She has a bond now. Whether you like it or not, she belongs to Cassian.”
Adrian froze mid-strike, his grip on the hilt tightening until his knuckles turned white. “She doesn’t love him,” he growled. “How can you expect her to survive with someone like him?”
Isla stepped into his path, forcing him to meet her steady gaze. “Love doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “The bond is about survival. The Moon Goddess doesn’t make mistakes.”
Adrian scoffed, pulling the blade free and tossing it to the ground. “You’re saying Lyra will fall in love with that monster?”
Isla’s expression didn’t waver. “She might. Or she might not. But that bond will protect her. It will make her stronger. And it might save all of us.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched, his frustration boiling over. “You’re asking me to just give up on her? To let her go to him and pretend I don’t care?”
Isla’s voice softened, but her words were firm. “I’m asking you to sacrifice. Survival isn’t about love, Adrian. It’s about putting others before yourself. If you truly care about her, you’ll do what’s best for her—not what’s easiest for you.”
Adrian turned away, his shoulders tense. Her words hit him like a blow, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. The only sound in the yard was the quiet rustle of leaves, as if the world itself was holding its breath.