A couple of weeks passed after the groups had been formed. Not long enough to make Fighting House safe. That would never happen. But enough for something else to grow in its place. Routine.
Wake up. Train. Eat. Train again. Study. Sleep. Repeat.
Only now, I wasn’t doing it alone anymore. Winterveil had settled into itself in a way that felt almost natural. We moved together without thinking about it anymore. Sat together. Trained together. Studied together. Even silence felt… easier when it was shared.
It was strange how quickly people could become familiar when survival depended on it.
Today’s class was sparring. Which meant, in simple terms: sanctioned violence.
We stood along the edges of the training hall, watching as pairs of first-years were called forward one by one. The instru
