Even without a guide, Anana eventually found her way to the training grounds. The air hit her like a wall, it was thick with tension, laced with earthly sting of sweat, dirt, and the scent of raw determination.
Every sound was amplified: the sharp thud of boots against dirt, the clash of wooden swords, the low grunts and growls of wolves in human skin testing one another's strength. It was a battlefield disguised as a practice ground. Every strike held a deeper meaning.
She paused near the edge, her heart stumbling in her chest. Her feet refused to move, caught between fight and flight, until her eyes caught the one person she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Lucien.
He stood like a storm made in flesh, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with lethal focus as he watched the fighters before him.
