LENA
I didn't speak as Sienna led me back to the training grounds.
The trees blurred around us, branches shivering under a wind that hadn't existed minutes ago. My chest ached, raw and hollow. I could still see her—Adelaide—bloody and broken on that table, her body bearing the same carved symbols that had haunted my skin. My bones. My nightmares.
I didn't realize I was shaking until Sienna pressed a hand to my back and said, "Breathe, Lena. You're safe now."
Safe.
I hated that word. It tasted like lies and old blood.
But I didn't argue. I just nodded and stepped into the circle of packed earth, stripped off my overshirt, and planted my feet.
"Again," I said.
Sienna blinked. "We haven't started."
"Then start. Or I will."
She gave me a look. Not pity—thank the goddess—but caution. Sienna didn't coddle. That's why I trusted her. She simply rolled her shoulders and stepped forward, barefoot and deadly, her braid tight down her spine.
