The training room was deep beneath the citadel, carved out of solid black stone that seemed to swallow sound. Lyra said it was built centuries ago specifically for magic users who needed to practice without accidentally destroying things.
Looking at the scorch marks on the walls, I could see why.
"Ready?" Lyra asked, standing across from me in the center of the circular room.
"No," I admitted. "But let's do it anyway."
She smiled slightly. "Honest. I like that." She gestured around us. "This room is warded. Whatever happens in here stays in here. You can't hurt anyone, you can't break anything important. It's safe to fail."
Safe to fail. The words should have been comforting, but they just reminded me how dangerous I was becoming.
Three days had passed since the letter. Three days of nightmares about shadowy figures and burning cities. Three days of my marked hand glowing randomly, making nearby dragons turn their heads toward me like I was calling them without meaning to.
