By midday, Evanna’s body was a canvas of bruises.
Black and blue patches bloomed like ink stains across her ribs, her arms, and the backs of her legs. Her skin burned where sweat had mixed with dirt, her muscles trembled with every breath, and her lungs felt like they were caked in ash.
Doreen had been merciful enough to spare her face—but only her face.
Every blow beneath her collarbone had landed with the weight of decades of trained muscle and precise control. It was a kind of brutal kindness, if it could be called that. Doreen’s fists didn’t just bruise; they taught.
The den’s training ring sat deep in a glade where moss blanketed the earth and gnarled tree roots coiled like sleeping serpents beneath their feet. Early morning mist had evaporated, leaving behind a golden haze that f
