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"I have a good teacher," I replied with a flirtatious smile.
He laughed. "Let's see if you can take me down now."
I lunged at him with everything I had, determined to prove that I could hold my own against him. But no matter how hard I tried, Ansel always seemed to be one step ahead.
"You're still thinking too much," he said as he easily dodged another one of my attacks.
"Or maybe you're just too good," I countered, slightly out of breath.
"Trust your instincts," Ansel replied with a sly grin before launching into another set of moves that left me struggling to keep up.
But despite my best efforts, Ansel always seemed to have the upper hand. And as our bodies continued to move in perfect harmony, it became clear that this was more than just training—it was a seductive tango between two equally matched opponents.
But before I could delve deeper into my thoughts, Ansel grabbed me in a hold that forced me to focus on the present moment. With his strength and expertise, he easily overpowered me and pinned me to the ground.
"Impressive," he said with a proud smile on his face. "You're getting better."
I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment at his words. I had always been determined to improve myself, especially after realizing that I was part of a world filled with supernatural abilities and beings.
"Thank you," I replied breathlessly as he released me from his hold.
"You have potential," Ansel continued as he helped me up. "But it's not just about physical strength. It takes mental strength as well."
"How did he do it?" I asked curiously. "Yorke."
Ansel's brow furrowed and his usual cheerful smile faded. He leaned forward, voice low. "Oswin was terrified of his power over time. Whenever he traveled, he'd envision scorching those he loved with the sands of the hourglass. He'd jolt awake, heart hammering, soaked in sweat. For years, Oswin evaded sleep, avoiding the twisted dreams that plagued him. He starved himself, desperate to curb his ability. It wasn't just about facing his fear," Ansel said thoughtfully. "It was also about accepting himself and embracing his abilities."
I couldn't help but wonder what my own deepest fear was.
"Guess I’ll have to RSVP to my personal nightmare then, huh?" The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
"Only if you're ready," Ansel said seriously. "It's not something to be taken lightly."
But as we continued, the self-doubt gnawed at me. Every missed block, every slow reaction, felt like proof that I wasn't cut out for this—that maybe I'd never be. But, with each mistake, I forced myself back up, gritting my teeth and squaring my shoulders.
"Again," I insisted and wiped the sweat from my brow with a shaky hand.
My body was a mess of bruises and aches, but there was something exhilarating in pushing past the pain, in finding the will to keep going when everything screamed to stop. This was more than just training; it was a test of will, a battle against my own limits.
"Good. Now, use your momentum," Ansel instructed as he feinted to the left, and I pivoted, throwing my weight behind a counter strike that nearly caught him off guard.
"Nice try," he said with a chuckle and effortlessly regained his balance.
"Next time won't be a try," I promised and felt a flicker of confidence amidst the exhaustion.
"Think of it as a dance," Ansel smoothly moved into a defensive stance. "But instead of counting steps, you count breaths."
"Or bruises," I rolled my shoulders to ease the tension that had settled there. Each movement was a conversation with my body, one that spoke of limits and the pressing need to break them.
Kylo watched from the sidelines, his brown eyes intent on mine. "You're overthinking it, Averill. React, don't predict."
"Spoken like someone who's never been blindsided by the past." My voice was sharper than I’d intended.
"Your past is exactly why you'll succeed," Ansel countered. "You've survived every damn thing life threw at you."
"Surviving isn't the same as mastering," I muttered and bounced lightly on the balls of my feet.
"Then let's turn survival into art," Kylo closed the distance between us with a few purposeful strides.
