Chapter 26: The Path of the Blade

The days blurred together in an unyielding cycle of pain and survival.

Kael was relentless in her training. Every morning, before the sun rose, he would wake her with a single command: "Get up."

There was no kindness in his voice, no comfort in his eyes. He had no interest in coddling her. She was an investment—one that needed to yield results.

At first, she struggled. Her body, malnourished from captivity, failed her constantly. The dagger felt heavy in her hands, her steps were sluggish, and her instincts dulled by months of helplessness.

But Kael did not let her weakness become an excuse.

"Again."

He forced her to hold the blade properly, correcting every mistake with precision. When she faltered, he made her repeat the motion until it became instinct.

"Your enemy won't wait for you to learn," he told her coldly. "Hesitation is death."

She learned this the hard way when he blindfolded her and made her dodge his attacks. Each strike was measured—not enough to cripple her, but enough to leave bruises as painful reminders of her failures.

At first, she resented him. His methods were harsh, his patience nonexistent. But as the days passed, something changed.

Her body adapted.

Her movements sharpened.

The weight of the dagger no longer felt foreign in her hands.

She learned to move in silence, to strike without hesitation, and to anticipate an enemy's attack. And Kael noticed.

One evening, as she stood in front of him, sweat dripping from her brow, he tossed her a real blade.

"Your hands don't shake anymore."

It wasn't praise, but it was the closest thing to approval she had ever received.

For the first time, she felt something unfamiliar stir inside her.

Pride.