Kill The Luna

49

Elda gripped the second thick wooden rod tightly in her palm, her knuckles turning white as she threw it directly at my chest. I scrambled forward, my hands darting out to catch the heavy weapon out of the air before it could strike my face.

"I don't understand any of this!" I protested, my eyes widening as I gripped the rough wood. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Elda didn't offer a gentle explanation. Instead, she spun her wooden stick smoothly around her waist and shoulders, her movements incredibly fluid and fast, like a seasoned warrior preparing for a bloody battle. Her lips curled into a cold, uncompromising line as she leveled the weapon straight at my chest. "There is absolutely no time left for us to mess around, and I am not in the mood to play childish games with you. Like I just told you, your training officially starts this very second."

Before the words could even fully register in my mind, she burst forward across the green grass, her boots kicking up dirt as she rushed me with terrifying speed.

"Wait! Just stop for a second!" I screamed, waving my hands frantically in the air.

But she didn't slow down for a single heartbeat. With a swift, brutal swing, she brought her stick around and struck me hard across the left side of my waist. The sudden, blunt pain made me gasp, and before I could even recover my balance, she swept her weapon low, catching the back of my legs with a crushing blow. My knees completely buckled beneath my weight, and I went stumbling forward, crashing heavily onto the hard dirt of the garden.

Elda stood over my fallen form, her chest rising and falling slightly as she began spinning the wooden rod between both of her hands with effortless grace. "Stand up right now!" she barked, her eyes drilling into mine with a harsh, demanding glare. "Brace yourself, lift your weapon, and fight me back!"

I let out a ragged groan, struggling into a sitting position as a sharp ache throbbed through my lower body. My hands were shaking so violently that I could barely keep my grip on the training rod. "I can't fight you!" I cried out, my voice cracking with pure frustration as I wiped a layer of sweat and dirt from my forehead. "I have tried learning how to defend myself so many times in my past, but it never works out for me! I am simply not good at hand-to-hand combat!"

Elda’s face remained completely frozen, holding absolutely no pity for my tears. "The world out there doesn't care about your excuses, Fedora! No one is ever going to care about your limitations when they are trying to rip your throat out!"

Without giving me another second to rest, she lunged forward again. She brought the heavy stick down with a sharp whistle through the air, striking me directly across the upper back. The impact knocked the remaining wind entirely out of my lungs, and I collapsed flat against the grass, groaning in pure agony as the pain radiated through my spine.

Something deep inside my mind snapped at the sheer humiliation of the beating. A sudden surge of desperate anger overrode the pain in my muscles. Gritting my teeth until they clicked, I forced my weak legs to stand up, lifting my heavy wooden stick high above my shoulders. With a loud, furious scream, I rushed directly at her, launching my body forward as I lunged the weapon straight toward her head.

Elda didn't even flinch. She simply tilted her neck to the left side with a smooth, effortless motion, letting the heavy rod slice through empty air just inches from her ear. Refusing to back down, I quickly recovered and swung the stick in a wide, horizontal arc, aiming directly for her waist. But she anticipated the move perfectly; she leaped lightly into the air, her boots clearing the weapon completely as it swept harmlessly beneath her.

Before my feet could firmly plant back onto the ground, Elda extended her leg and kicked me hard directly in the center of my chest. The raw force of the strike sent me flying backward, and I hit the floorboards of the patio flat on my back, the wooden stick clattering away across the stones.

Elda stood over me, lower her weapon to her side as her breathing finally stabilized. She reached down, extending her open hand toward my face as her features softened. "That is more than enough for today," she murmured, her tone turning calm and businesslike once again. "We will continue this tomorrow morning. Let's go back inside the house."

She wrapped her fingers around my wrist and pulled me up to my feet with surprising strength. A small, mocking smile spread across her lips as she looked at my bruised and battered frame. "It seems I completely overestimated your abilities, my dear," she chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Girl, you are honestly completely terrible at physical combat."

I held my aching waist with one hand, panting heavily as my chest heaved with exhaustion. "I know," I muttered under my breath, wiping the sweat from my eyes as I followed her limping footsteps back through the glass doors.

She led me down a narrow, quiet hallway and opened a wooden door, showing me into a small, sparsely decorated bedroom. "This is where you will be staying for the main time," she instructed briefly before turning on her heel and leaving me alone in the quiet space.

I dropped heavily onto the small mattress, closing my eyes as the sheer physical and mental exhaustion of the day washed over me. It had been an incredibly bad, hectic, and terrifying day, and my entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck. For a brief, agonizing moment, the horrifying image of Ella being thrown from the moving van flashed vividly across my mind, making a painful lump form in my throat. I quickly shook my head against the pillow, forcing my eyes open to stop thinking about the horror. I couldn't afford to fall into a dark pit of despair right now; I needed to block out the negative thoughts and force myself to stay focused on surviving.

Eventually, my eyes grew heavy, and I drifted into a fitful, restless sleep.

It was already the dead of midnight when my eyes snapped open in the darkness. I sat up on the edge of the mattress, my skin crawling with a deeply uncomfortable feeling. My entire body was itching violently because I had been sweating profusely through the intense training session and the long car ride, and I hadn't been given a single chance to take a proper bath. I ran a hand through my tangled hair, realizing that I had only been catching partial, broken bits of sleep because my brain was completely overloaded with overthinking and anxiety.

I stood up from the creaking bed, intending to navigate my way down the dark hallway to find the bathroom to wash my face. But the moment my boots touched the floorboards, a faint sound caught my attention. I froze, tilting my head toward the bedroom window. Distant, muffled voices were echoing from the backyard, drifting through the glass from the background of the dark garden.

My heart began to beat a little faster against my ribs. I crept silently across the room on my tiptoes, reaching out with a trembling hand to slide the heavy fabric of the curtains apart by a tiny fraction. I pressed my face close to the cold glass and peeped outside into the moonlit yard.

My breath hitched in my throat at the sight. There she was. Elda was standing in the center of the dark lawn, completely dressed in a tight black outfit. Standing directly in front of her were two strange men, also clad entirely in black tactical clothing. They were huddled closely together, their heads bent low as they discussed something in hushed, quiet whispers.

I strained my ears against the windowpane, my mind racing with a million terrifying questions as I watched the secret meeting unfold. What on earth were they discussing out there in the dark by this suspicious time of the night?