My girlfriend is trapped in my superpower

Kael

The stone corridors of the Masters' Hall felt different in the morning light. Not warm or welcoming, but sharpened—like blades hidden in plain sight. My new quarters were spacious, yes, better than any inn bed I'd ever had, yet every corner felt watched, every shadow a reminder that this place wasn't built for comfort. It was built for control.

Bram stretched noisily in the doorway, half dressed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Well, at least the beds don't collapse when you roll over. That's an improvement."

Mira's glare was enough to silence him. She stood already dressed, armor polished, ready to face whatever came next. "Don't get too comfortable. They didn't move us in here out of kindness."

She wasn't wrong. The note still burned in my thoughts from last night, its warning coiled tight in my chest. Someone wanted us cautious—paranoid even. And stepping into the training grounds today, I had the feeling we were about to find out why.

We gathered in silence, only Lyra's soft chuckle echoing in my head. "Oh, this will be fun. A house full of predators, and you've walked right into their cage."

The training grounds opened like an arena—massive, ringed with towering seats, runes burned into the stone that pulsed faintly with restrained magic. And there, waiting, were the Masters.

The training grounds looked less like a schoolyard and more like an execution arena. The vast circle of stone was carved with spiraling runes, each one humming with power. The Masters stood in the shadows along the edges, arms folded, their cloaks whispering in the morning breeze. Their eyes followed us like hawks sizing up prey.

I felt their scrutiny dig into my bones. Lyra, of course, chose that exact moment to slip out of me. Her form rippled into existence at my side—wings folding with casual grace, hair flowing like flame, a smirk already etched on her lips.

"Relax," she cooed toward the circle of stone-faced Masters, "if I was here to kill you, you'd already be smoking piles of ash. Now smile, won't you? You'll wrinkle your faces glaring at us like that."

Bram clapped a hand to his chest, grinning wide. "See? Finally someone who respects my philosophy—less scowling, more living."

"Less living, more discipline," Mira muttered under her breath, already bracing like she was waiting for disaster.

One of the Masters stepped forward, his voice sharp. "This is no game. You are here to be trained, to learn control. What stands beside you"—he jabbed a finger toward Lyra—"is not a companion. It is a threat."

"Ohhh, I like him," Lyra said, grinning wider. "The finger pointing, the dramatic pause—he's rehearsed this speech in the mirror." She leaned toward Bram. "Ten out of ten for intensity, two out of ten for originality."

Bram doubled over, laughing so hard his voice echoed across the arena. "She's not wrong!"

"Silence!" another Master barked, his voice cracking like thunder.

That only made Lyra more smug. She turned in a slow circle, hands behind her back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, so scary. Do you practice shouting at children too? Or just at unsuspecting adventurers dragged into your stone playground?"

The Masters' faces tightened, barely leashed frustration simmering behind their eyes.

I rubbed my temples. "Lyra, you're not helping."

"Yes, I am," she countered sweetly, leaning close with a wink. "I'm teaching you the most valuable skill of all: how to make authority figures sweat."

"Great skill," Bram chimed in. "Can we add it to the curriculum?"

"Shut up, both of you," Mira hissed, though even she couldn't keep the corner of her mouth from twitching.

One Master finally snapped, his voice ice-cold. "If you cannot take this seriously, then perhaps we should strip the boy of his… parasite." His gaze flicked toward Lyra like he wanted to carve her apart with words alone.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant. Lyra's smile didn't falter, but her eyes burned hotter. "Try it," she whispered, voice velvet and venom all at once. The runes on the floor trembled faintly as though they understood the threat she carried.

Silence. A silence thick enough to choke on.

I swallowed hard, caught between wanting to laugh at their red faces and wanting to run before Lyra decided to demonstrate what she meant.

The silence broke with a gesture. One of the Masters slammed his staff into the stone and the runes flared alive, blazing white.

"Enough," he spat. "If the boy cannot control his demon, then we will break him until he can."

"Finally," Lyra purred, wings flexing, "I thought we'd be standing around all morning listening to speeches. Show me what you've got, old man."

Bram leaned against Mira like this was the start of a circus act. "Place your bets. I've got fifty coins on Lyra embarrassing at least three of them before lunch."

"You don't have fifty coins," Mira hissed.

"Then I'll owe you. Winning streak incoming."

Three Masters stepped into the circle, their power pressing like a tidal wave. The air tasted sharp, heavy with storm and flame. Their eyes fixed on me—but it was Lyra they were really aiming for.

"Kael," one warned, "if you value your life, force it back inside you."

I opened my mouth, but Lyra beat me to it, her laughter spilling into the circle like fire. "Aw, how sweet—you think he controls me. That's adorable."

Then the first Master struck, his staff sweeping arcs of light that cracked the stone.

Lyra didn't even flinch. She danced aside, hair sparking, smirk unshakable. "You'll have to do better than that. I've seen children throw tantrums with more precision."

"Don't encourage them!" I barked, but it was too late. The second the Master lunged forward, hands glowing with earthen runes. Stone shot up from the floor like jagged spears, cutting off Lyra's retreat.

She didn't even blink. "Oh look," she said dryly, "pointy rocks. Terrifying. Do you teach kindergarten magic here or is this advanced level?"

Bram let out a wheeze-laugh, slapping his thigh. "She's killing you with words before she even lifts a finger!"

The Master snarled and pushed harder—stone spikes arced higher, sharp enough to skewer.

Lyra snapped her fingers. The entire formation crumbled into harmless dust, smoke curling around her like a cloak. Her wings shimmered in the fiery glow, the kind of casual display that made every Master tense, eyes wide.

"Oops," she teased, flashing a grin. "Was that important?"

The third Master, clearly the most impatient of them all, let out a roar. His staff burned with black fire, something I hadn't seen before, and he hurled it straight at Lyra. I stepped forward instinctively, my blood surging, the weight of her power pressing harder against me.

"Lyra—"

"Relax, Kael," she said without turning, voice suddenly sharp, dangerous. "I've got this."

And she did—she caught the attack with one hand, fire and all, and crushed it until nothing remained but a faint hiss of smoke.

The chamber went silent. Mira muttered under her breath, "She's not fighting them… she's toying with them."

I knew she was right. Lyra hadn't even broken a sweat.

What unsettled me wasn't the display of power—it was the look on two of the Masters' faces. Not fear. Not anger. Something colder. Calculation. Like they were measuring just how further she can go.

And that was the snap—my pulse slammed like a war drum, and for the first time since she came out, I didn't feel like I was in control.

The Master who'd thrown the fire-staff clenched his jaw, the veins on his temple twitching. He didn't step closer—none of them did. Instead, he lowered his hand, forcing the magic to fizzle out.

"You mock discipline," he said, his voice low, sharp as a blade. "You think power without restraint is something to flaunt?"

Lyra tilted her head, smirking. "Sweetheart, I am restraint. If I wasn't holding back, you'd all be charcoal on the floor."

Bram snorted so loud it echoed in the hall. "She's not lying. You should've seen what she did to that last freak-monster. Took its head clean off before Kael even blinked."

"Bram!" Mira hissed, smacking him on the shoulder. "Not helping."

But Lyra's grin widened. She stepped forward, wings half-flaring, her presence rolling like heat off an inferno. The Masters stiffened.

One of them, the elder with silver hair braided down his back, raised a hand to silence the others. His eyes locked onto me—not Lyra, not Bram, me.

"The bond between you and this… being…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "…is dangerous. If you lose control, if she ever decides not to hold back, it will not be the monsters we need to fear. It will be you."

The weight of his words pressed on me like stone.

Lyra chuckled, mock bowing. "Thanks for the compliment. Really, you shouldn't have."

The elder ignored her. His gaze didn't waver from me. "You need training, Kael. Not for your sake. For ours."

The younger Master spat on the ground, glaring at Lyra. "And if you can't be separated from that thing, then maybe we need to start considering alternatives."

I stiffened. Bram stepped forward immediately, his usual playful grin gone. His voice was sharp, almost dangerous.

"You lay a finger on him, you'll find out what our alternatives look like."

The chamber went quiet again. Finally, the elder Master sighed, shaking his head. "Enough for today. We'll resume tomorrow."

They withdrew slowly, robes swishing, muttering among themselves—but I could feel it. The calculation hadn't gone anywhere.

They weren't just training me. They were waiting. Watching. Measuring the day I might slip—and when I did, they'd be ready.

Lyra stretched, yawning loudly. "Well, that was fun. Who's buying dinner?"

Bram raised a hand instantly. "Not it."

Mira groaned. I on the other hand couldn't shake the note, the warning, the stares of the Masters. Something was coming.