I had trained my entire life.
At least... at some degree.
I think...
I told myself this stupid pep talk as I pushed open the door to Kael’s training room, expecting something sensible. Stone floors. A few weapon racks. Maybe a lingering scent of sweat and discipline. Maybe even some dried bloodstains on the floor.
What I got instead was… this.
The room was enormous—circular, with a domed ceiling etched in glowing runes that hummed softly with magic, like the space itself was holding its breath and waiting for a fight. The floor wasn’t stone but dark polished wood that gave just slightly under my boots, enchanted for impact. One wall was lined with weapons—beautiful, deadly things arranged with reverence. Another held battered training dummies that looked like they had survived wars.
