[Training Grounds – Sector 4 – Early Morning]
The snow was retreating.
It clung to the yard in uneven sheets, thinning along the stone and loosening its grip on the walls. Dark wet rings spread at the base of the ramparts. Meltwater traced narrow paths through the packed earth, carving shallow veins across the ground. The air still cut against exposed skin, though its edge had dulled since the heart of winter. The season was nearing its end.
Kael stood in the center of the yard with a stone block at his feet.
He had taken it from the wall repair pile at the edge of the compound—quarried granite, roughly cut, dense enough that two men usually carried one between them. He had carried it alone, one hand, from the pile to here.
The wooden posts were finished. He had known it for two weeks, yet he kept striking them out of habit. The wood split under every blow.
Stone was different.
