As each day passed in Tulan, all Nyssa could think about was her training, her magic, Trontine and defeating Damon.
Some mornings, she woke up to an injury
aching her and slept with new ones. Each dawn came with bruises and ended with new ones.
Zuleika would sometimes, help her dress them, "At least, they're not deep wounds. Just be careful," she would advise and Nyssa would smile at her.
After few days of training and Nyssa noticed her palms always hurt more, she began to wear gloves. And it was so much better.
Nyssa no longer looked like someone recovering from an accident. She looked like someone preparing for a day of battle.
The training grounds had become familiar now, with the dust, clashing blades, shouts of men. And in the center of it, Nyssa moved effortlessly.
Today, she was sparring with one of the Chief's guards. The man had struck, but she ducked it, pivoted hers and countered.
