"Where are we going, please?" I asked, my voice laced with irritation.

We had been walking for what felt like hours, and the silence between us was starting to wear on me.

Devon didn't even glance back. "We're almost there. Consider this your first lesson."

I groaned.

Today marked the beginning of my training with Devon, and while I'd been excited at first, the unease simmering in the back of my mind had only grown. Everything about him felt off and despite my epiphany yesterday, I still didn't trust him.

We finally stopped, and I glanced around.

Before us was a large clearing, surrounded by towering trees whose thick branches cast long shadows across the open space. I hesitated on the edge, reluctant to step into the clearing.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his gaze steady.

I forced a smile, clenching my fists. "I am."

His lips twitched as if suppressing a grin. Before I could blink, my legs were swept out from under me, and I hit the ground hard.

Pain shot up my spine as I sat up, glaring at him. "What was that for?"

"Lesson two: always be aware of your surroundings."

"Does humiliating me help emphasize that point in some way?"

He shrugged, his smirk infuriatingly smug. "It was entertaining."

Son of a-

"I think I already know the answer to this, but just to confirm," he said, folding his arms. His tone shifted, and his expression grew more serious. "Did your mother ever teach you any form of combat?"

I dusted myself off and stood. "No."

"Why not?"

His question struck a nerve.

Why hadn't my mother ever taught me to defend myself? She'd always shielded me, always fought for me.

The pause stretched. Devon arched an impatient brow.

"I don't know," I admitted finally. "Maybe because I don't have powers?"

My answer sounded dumb even to my ears.

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "Tell me something about your childhood. What do you remember?"

I frowned. "What does that have to do with training?"

"If this," he gestured between us, "is going to work, I need to know things about you."

I hesitated. "Well, when I was ten-"

"Not ten. Younger."

His interruption sent a chill down my spine. Why was he so insistent? I searched my memories, but the harder I tried, the emptier my mind felt.

Nothing.

Why couldn't I remember anything before ten?

Devon's gaze darkened, his eyes boring into mine.

"I know everything about you, Kira." His words from when I had woken up in safe land echoed in my mind, making my stomach twist.

"Do you know something I don't?" I asked, my voice shaky.

"I know a lot of things you don't." His tone was casual, but the glint in his eyes wasn't. "You'll need to be more specific."

"That day-"

Before I could finish, he was suddenly standing in front of me, close enough that I instinctively stepped back.

"Which day?" he pressed, his voice quiet but sharp.

I coughed, trying to steady my nerves. His proximity sent a shiver down my spine.

"Lesson three," he said, an edge of amusement in his voice. "Not everyone is plotting your demise."

I glared at him as he moved away. "What kind of trainer are you?"

"The best," he replied with a cocky grin.

"And the questions?" I demanded.

His smile faded, replaced by something darker. "I was confirming something."

The air between us felt charged like something unseen had cracked open.

"What?"

"You don't remember anything before ten, and your combat skills need a lot more work than I'd hoped." His tone was flat, almost clinical. "That's all I needed to know for now. Let's start."

I wanted to push him, to demand more answers, but something in his expression stopped me.

------

By the time the sun set, I was utterly drained. My muscles ached with every movement, and exhaustion weighed down on me like a heavy cloak. Devon had pushed me to my limit and then some. Even my hair was tired.

"Why do you look like you're about to die?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.

"Because I am about to die," I muttered, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

He laughed, a low, mocking sound.

"You went too hard on me," I snapped, rubbing my sore arms.

"Did I?" He tilted his head as if considering it, though his smirk said otherwise.

"Yes."

He stepped closer, his smirk softening into something unreadable. "Well, for surviving your first lesson, I have a gift for you."

I blinked in surprise. "A gift?"

"You're already wearing it."

Frowning, I reached up and felt something cool against my neck. My fingers closed around a silver chain, and I pulled it forward to inspect it. Dangling from the delicate chain was a flower-shaped pendant. Simple, elegant, and oddly familiar.

My breath hitched.

It wasn't identical, but it bore a striking resemblance to the necklace my father had given me years ago-the one I'd lost after he murmured.

"Do you like it?" Devon's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I glanced at him, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Where did you get this?"

His lips twitched into a half-smile, but his eyes remained sharp. "Does it matter?"

"It looks... familiar," I said carefully, my fingers tracing the pendant as unease coiled in my stomach.

"Maybe it reminded me of you," he replied, his tone casual but his words anything but.

I stiffened.

There was no way he could know about my father's necklace-or the memories tied to it. But the resemblance was too close to be a coincidence.

Before I could press him further, the air shifted, and the world blurred.

In the blink of an eye, I was standing in my room.

I stumbled slightly, catching myself on the edge of the bed as the disorientation faded. Devon stood a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over my room with a fleeting curiosity before landing back on me.

"I thought you'd appreciate some rest," he said, his voice oddly flat.

I watched him warily, my fingers still clutching the pendant. My mind raced with questions, but the guarded look in his eyes warned me not to ask them.

"Thanks," I murmured, though the word felt hollow.

He nodded once, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he disappeared, leaving me alone.

The room felt eerily quiet in his absence. I stared down at the pendant, its silver surface catching the fading light.

It wasn't identical to my father's necklace, but the similarity gnawed at me.

I should have taken it off. The unease curling in my chest told me to.

But I didn't.

Instead, I left it on, the weight of it pressing against my skin.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey Everyone!

What do you think? Is there more to that necklace?

I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments! Thanks for reading!