Misery’s Trap
The tension in the combat hall was palpable, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood from previous sparring matches. Vampires circled the training mats, their predatory gazes locked on the pairs facing off. Lyra adjusted her stance, her muscles coiled with anticipation as her opponent lunged.
Eryon stood at the edge of the ring, his sharp eyes tracking every movement. Lyra had improved her skills, masking her wolfish reflexes as purely vampiric agility, but he could still see the tells—the flickers of instinct that set her apart.
Across the hall, Misery leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and her expression calm, yet calculating. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she spoke to a wiry vampire standing beside her. “You know what to do,” she murmured.
The vampire nodded, stepping into the ring to face Lyra as her next opponent. His name was Dorian, and he was known for his speed and precision. Misery had chosen him well.
As the match began, Lyra dodged his strikes with ease, her wolf instincts guiding her movements. But Dorian’s attacks grew more aggressive, his blade slashing closer with each pass.
Lyra pivoted, narrowly avoiding a strike aimed too high for a sparring match. Her heart pounded as she realized he wasn’t holding back.
“Easy,” she hissed, her voice low enough that only Dorian could hear.
But he didn’t respond. Instead, he lunged again, his blade grazing her arm and leaving a thin line of red. Lyra clenched her teeth, the sting forcing her wolf to stir beneath her skin.
From the sidelines, Eryon stepped forward, his fists clenched. Misery’s quiet laughter reached his ears, and his sharp gaze darted to her smug expression.
“Come on, Lyra,” Dorian taunted, his voice loud enough for the gathered students to hear. “Is that the best you can do?”
Lyra struck back with a calculated blow, her blade knocking his aside, but Dorian twisted into the move, bringing the hilt of his weapon dangerously close to her ribs. She stumbled, her balance faltering as he advanced again.
Eryon couldn’t stand by any longer. He stepped into the ring, grabbing Dorian’s wrist mid-strike with a force that sent the vampire flying backward. Gasps echoed through the hall as Eryon stood over him, his chest heaving.
The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on Eryon. Vampires were strong, but not that strong.
Dorian groaned as he rose to his knees, his eyes narrowing. “You’re hiding something,” he growled, his voice venomous. “And I’ll prove it.”
