The training hall was nothing like the polished dojos Adrianna had seen in movies. It was raw—half stone, half shadow, lit by torches that crackled against the cold air. The walls were etched with ancient runes, faded claw marks, and weapon racks that gleamed with blades she didn't recognize.
Acantha stood in the center, a short staff in her hand, twirling it effortlessly as if it were part of her arm.
Adrianna took a deep breath and stepped onto the mat, her fingers tightening around the wooden dagger Acantha had given her. She wasn't sure why it wasn't a real one—until she realized it was less about learning to kill and more about learning control.
"You're late," Acantha said coolly, not looking up as she spun the staff and brought it down with a sharp thwack against the floor.
"I overslept," Adrianna muttered, stretching her arms out. "Your sleeping arrangements are too comfortable."
