Page 31 of Claimed By Midnight

I press forward with a series of strikes she taught me, each one stronger than the last. The thorned vines pulse brighter around us, as if feeding off our energy.

"I didn't win that fight." Raven's midnight hair falls across her face as she demonstrates a defensive maneuver. "Got thrown clear across the courtyard. But I got back up. Kept that demon busy long enough for reinforcements to arrive." She taps my shoulder with her practice sword. "Sometimes victory isn't about being the strongest. It's about being the most stubborn."

The words sink deep into my chest. All my life, I've been sheltered, protected, treated like glass that might shatter. But here in this hidden courtyard, with Raven's battle-earned wisdom washing over me, I feel something shift inside. Each strike of wood against wood, each story of triumph and failure, builds something new in my bones.

And this becomes our routine.

Each morning, dawn breaks through my window, painting shadows across the wooden floor of my borrowed room. I slip from beneath the silken sheets, careful not to make a sound as I retrieve the practice dagger Raven gave me - dulled metal wrapped in leather strips. My muscles ache from yesterday's training, but it's a satisfying burn that makes me feel alive.

In the mirror, my honey-blonde curls are a mess, but I don't bother fixing them. Instead, I focus on my stance, remembering Raven's instructions. Feet shoulder-width apart. Core tight. The dagger becomes an extension of my arm as I move through the forms.

Strike. Block. Pivot.

The movements flow smoother each day, though I'm far from graceful. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple as I imagine opponents surrounding me. My reflection shows golden-green eyes narrowed in concentration, a fire burning there I never knew existed.

My nightdress swishes as I duck and weave, practicing the evasive maneuvers that could save my life. No magic to protect me, no sister or father to sweep in at the last moment. Just my own strength, my own will.

The dagger whistles through the air. I catch a glimpse of myself mid-motion - chest heaving, cheeks flushed. For once, I don't see the soft, helpless human everyone else sees. I see someone becoming dangerous.

A scrape on my knuckle from yesterday's session stings as I grip the dagger tighter. Raven says pain is a teacher, and I'm learning to welcome its lessons. Each bruise, each callus forming on my palms, marks another step away from the sheltered life I've known.

In that hidden courtyard, under Raven's watchful eye, I'm not Ilreth's fragile daughter or Astrid's baby sister. I'm just a warrior in training, learning to survive in a world that sees my humanity as weakness.

The morning light grows stronger, and I know I'll need to leave soon. But I like this time in the morning to myself. It's helped center me.

I tuck the practice dagger away beneath my mattress, my fingers lingering on its worn grip. Soon, I'll prove to them all that being human doesn't make me helpless. It makes me determined.

I eat breakfast alone and then go to the workshop, which is empty. It's been so long since I've been without friends that it'sjolting. But when the afternoon light slants through the window, I grin and head for the opposite side of the house.

Sweat dripsfrom my forehead as I collapse onto the stone bench beside Raven, my practice sword clattering to the ground. My muscles burn, but the pain feels different now - like a badge of honor rather than something to fear.

"You're getting faster." Raven stretches her wings, the dove-gray feathers catching the morning light. A grimace flickers across her angular features as she shifts her left leg. "Almost took my head off with that last swing."

"Sure I did." I laugh, pulling my honey-blonde curls away from my neck. "I've seen you fight at half-speed. You're still holding back."

"Maybe." Her violet eyes dance with amusement. "But you're not the same scared little demon-lord's daughter who arrived here." She reaches into her belt pouch and tosses me a water skin. "You've got real fire in you now."

The cool water soothes my parched throat. "I've always had fire. Everyone was just too busy dousing it to notice."

"Including a certain xaphan who can't keep his eyes off you?" Raven's sharp-tongued wit makes an appearance, her midnight black hair falling forward as she leans in conspiratorially.

Heat rises to my cheeks, and not from exertion. "Uriel has always brought out the worst in me."

"Please." She rolls her eyes. "You two drag out your real selves. I never see him get into it - or enjoy it - as much as he does with you."

"He's just trying to keep me in line." But even the excuse sounds flimsy to me.

"If that's what you need to tell yourself…" Raven's knowing smirk widens. "Then, yeah. He's just doing it to keep you in line."

I fidget with the water skin, remembering how Uriel's golden eyes had lingered on me at breakfast this morning. How his cruel smile had softened just slightly when I'd matched his sarcasm with my own.

"It's different here," I admit quietly. "With you and him. I feel…more like myself."

Raven's expression grows serious. "Because we see you as you are, not what we think you should be." She clasps my shoulder with calloused fingers. "Being human isn't a weakness. You just have to learn how to be a stronger version of you."

And she's right. Being here, I've never felt like the fragile thing to be protected - which I always hated. I feel like I can learn to be my own person instead of fighting to not be smothered by someone else.

Since when did my cage become more comfortable than my home?

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