Dawn spilled like watered blood across the eastern sky as Soren dragged himself back to the training yard, each step a negotiation between determination and agony.
His hands, wrapped in strips of cloth he'd torn from his spare shirt, throbbed with every heartbeat. The bandaging was crude, already dark patches bloomed where reopened blisters wept through the fabric.
The yard stood empty, caught in that liminal space between night and day. Perfect. No witnesses to his failure. No eyes to mock his obsession.
'One more time,' he thought, the words a mantra that drowned out his body's screaming protest. 'Just one more time.'
The shard nestled against his chest remained cool and silent. Valenna's presence hovered at the edge of his awareness, watchful but offering nothing, no encouragement, no guidance, no criticism. Testing him, perhaps. Or simply waiting to see if he would break.
He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
