The days had slipped by like an endless blur of sweat, sword swings, and the occasional groan of frustration.
Training had dragged on for a week and three days now - not that Seraphine was counting, which she totally was.
She could feel herself growing stronger, faster… and, unfortunately, much more exhausted.
The rhythmic clanging of weapons had become their personal battle anthem, interrupted only by the occasional crash when Clara inevitably tripped over her own feet.
Hours later, it was was finally late. The house was silent except for the occasional flicker of the lantern's flame.
Seraphine, finally allowing herself a moment of peace, had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.
For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no training sessions to plan, no glaring mistakes to fix. She was simply resting.
Then, there was a creak of the floorboards. A shadow at the edge of her vision.
