When I reached Rebecca, I found her practicing with a sword, an odd sight indeed.
Last night at Annabel's, she'd mentioned it: ever since the vampire attack, Rebecca had been training not just in magic, but physically as well.
For a sorceress, especially one with Rebecca's immense potential, the time devoted to training was expected to focus solely on honing her magical prowess. As I watched her swing the sword, my breath caught for a moment.
Her eyes narrowed with sharp focus, each strike delivered with the resolve of facing an actual enemy. The tremor in her arms, the way the hilt chafed her palms. It was clear this was no mere exercise for her, but a vow of war.
Annabel's words echoed in my mind. "Rebecca is training her body with steel now, not just magic."
In that instant, I realized this scene held far more than mere strangeness. Rebecca was battling her own inner fear, her own vulnerability.
