The sun wasn't even up yet and Grace was already eating dirt.
"Again!" Valkyrie's voice cracked through the morning air like a whip.
Grace spat out mud. Her mouth tasted like failure. Everything fucking hurt. Her ribs screamed from where Valkyrie's last kick had landed. Her shoulder throbbed from the throw before that. Sure, she was immortal, but her pride?
Dead. Murdered. Six feet under.
[This is hell. Actual, literal hell.]
The "training arena" was just a patch of dirt behind the inn that they'd cleared by kicking rocks out of the way. No fancy equipment. No protective gear. Just mud, more rocks they'd missed, and Valkyrie's complete lack of mercy.
Or humanity.
Or basic decency.
"Your stance is garbage," Valkyrie said.
She hadn't even broken a sweat. Her scarred arms crossed over her chest like she was disappointed in Grace's entire existence.
"Fix it."
