Ep.19 Ms. Vera Part 5

"Begin," Vera commanded.

Standing in the small clearing next to the river, I gripped my sword with both hands, trying to ignore the burning in my muscles. We'd been at this for hours, repeating the same basic forms over and over until my arms felt like lead.

"Your grip is too tight," Vera called out, circling me like a hawk. "The sword is an extension of your arm, not a club to be strangled."

I tried to relax my fingers, but anxiety kept them locked around the hilt. In the distance, I could hear Maya and Rowan's voices as they practiced their magic exercises. The sound of Rowan's frustrated groan echoed through the trees, followed by Maya's quieter murmurs.

"Focus," Vera snapped, tapping my elbow with her wooden practice sword. "Your friends' training is their concern. Right now, this—" she gestured to the space between us, "—is your world."

I nodded, trying to center myself. The morning sun had grown harsh, and sweat trickled down my back. Vera had started me with basic stances and strikes, things that I thought I already had a handle on and seemed simple until you had to do them perfectly a hundred times in a row.

"Again," she ordered. "And this time, breathe. You're holding your breath with every strike."

I raised my sword, trying to remember everything at once. Feet shoulder-width apart. Knees slightly bent. Shoulders relaxed. Core engaged. The list of corrections seemed endless.

As I moved through the forms again, my mind wandered to this morning's revelation. Class F. Basically no magic at all. The knowledge still stung, but something about the vision I'd seen during Vera's assessment nagged at me. Those hooded figures, the stone circle, the blood...

"Better," Vera's voice cut through my thoughts. "But your mind is wandering again. When you hold a sword, your thoughts should be as sharp and focused as the blade itself."

"Sorry," I muttered, starting the sequence again.

A sudden crash from the direction of Maya and Rowan's training made me jump. Vera's hand on my shoulder stopped me from running to check on them.

"They're fine," she said firmly. "Learning magic means making mistakes. Sometimes loud ones."

As if to confirm her words, I heard Rowan's embarrassed laugh, followed by Maya's voice saying something about control. It was the most emotion I'd heard in her voice since the attack.

"You care deeply for them," Vera observed, her eyes shrewd.

"They're my family," I replied simply.

She nodded, something softening in her expression. "Then let that be your motivation, but not your distraction. The best way to protect them is to master what's in front of you right now."

She stepped back, raising her own practice sword. "Now, show me what you've learned. Try to strike me."

I blinked. "But we've only done forms—"

Her wooden blade tapped my shoulder before I could finish speaking. "Hesitation in combat is death. Again."

I gripped my sword, trying to remember everything she'd taught me. I moved forward, attempting to copy the forms we'd practiced—

Her sword seemed to materialize against my ribs. "Dead," she announced. "Again."

This continued for what felt like hours. Every time I thought I saw an opening, her blade found me first. Ribs, throat, knee, elbow – each strike precisely controlled but carrying an unmistakable message: in a real fight, I would be dead.

Finally, my legs trembling with exhaustion, I managed to get my blade within a foot of her before she deflected it.

"Better," she said, lowering her sword. "You're learning to watch, not just look. That's enough for today."

I all but collapsed onto the grass, my arms shaking as I laid back. Above me, the sky had turned the deep blue of late afternoon. Had we really been at this all day?

"Rest," Vera instructed. "Eat. Tomorrow will be harder."

As she walked away, I closed my eyes, letting the cool grass soothe my aching muscles. I might not have magic like Maya and Rowan, but I had this. And somehow, I would make it enough.

A shadow fell across my face. I opened my eyes to find Maya and Rowan standing over me, both looking as exhausted as I felt.

"You look terrible," Rowan said with a weak grin.

"Speak for yourself," I replied, noticing the singed edges of his shirt.

Maya offered me a hand up. Her face was still guarded, but something in her eyes had changed. Maybe it was purpose, or determination. "Come on," she said quietly. "Miss Vera made stew."

As we walked back to the cabin together, our shadows long in the setting sun, I realized something: we were all different people than we'd been yesterday. And tomorrow, we'd be different again.

This was just the beginning.