Smoke curled through the air like serpents. Lyra's stomach dropped. Scouts, dozens of them, moved in silence.
"Prototype," one hissed, the word slicing through the tension.
Lyra froze. Prototype? That word carried weight, history, danger.
Orion's hand gripped hers. "Stay calm. We've trained for this."
Kael's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Perfect. Let's see what she's really capable of."
The first scouts attacked. Lyra's hands flared. Fire erupted, throwing them back. But one struck closer than expected. She felt the backlash—the energy burned her, leaving her trembling.
"Focus!" Orion shouted.
Lyra forced herself to steady the flames. Slowly, carefully, she pushed the energy outward in controlled bursts, knocking enemies back without losing control.
Kael watched, impressed. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
Rylan's barrier flared, shielding them from a stray strike. "Keep moving!" he called.
They fought together—Lyra's powers unpredictable but growing. By the time the last scout fell, her chest heaved. She was exhausted, exhilarated, alive.
Darius' voice echoed from above. "You've grown, Lyra… but not enough."
She looked up. Red eyes glimmered in the smoke. Guild reinforcements.
Lyra's first real battle had just begun.