Page 11 of Twisted Fangs

She adjusts, bringing her feet closer together. The sword wavers in her grip. "Like this?" she asks.

"Better," I mutter. I tap her elbow with two fingers. "Keep this tucked in. Control comes from your core, not your arms."

She swings again, the blade cutting through empty air with a whisper. Her movements are still unsteady, unpolished, but there's something in the way she throws herself into each strike that reminds me of myself centuries ago. That same desperate need to prove something.

"Again," I command, keeping my voice steady despite the memories threatening to surface. "This time, imagine the blade is an extension of your arm."

"It feels more like an extension of my exhaustion," she mutters, but raises the sword again.

"Pain is temporary. The skills I'm teaching you will keep you alive," I insist.

Her hazel eyes flash with that familiar fire as she executes another series of strikes. Better this time - her movements more fluid, though still lacking precision. The rage inside her burns bright, raw and untamed. Like looking into a mirror of my past.

Over the next several days,the forest becomes alive with the sounds of our relentless training. Rhea's movements are more fluid, her body healing fully under my care. Every strike, every parry is a testament to her resilience. I watch her now with the dagger I've given her glinting in the dappled sunlight.

"Again," I command, my voice cutting through the stillness of the early dawn. "This time, don't think. Just act."

She lunges, the dagger slicing through the air with lethal precision. I can see the change in her, the way her hazel eyes have hardened.

I step forward, my larger frame easily deflecting her attack. "Good," I say, a rare praise that brings a flush of pride to her cheeks. "But you're still hesitating. The enemy won't wait for you to make up your mind."

Her eyes meet mine, a spark of determination igniting within their depths. "Then show me, Valen. Show me how to be a ruthless warrior," she insists.

The venom in her voice is palpable, and I can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction. I've been alone for so long, driven by vengeance and little else. But Rhea... she's giving me something more to fight for. A shared purpose.

"Very well," I say, stepping back to give her room. "Attack me as if I were one of them. No holding back."

She launches herself at me. We move in a deadly ballet, metal clashing against metal, our bodies a blur of motion. I could overpower her easily, but I hold back, allowing her to test her skills against me.

Suddenly, she feints to the left, then pivots, aiming the dagger at my side. I barely manage to deflect the blow, her newfound speed and agility catching me off guard. The girl has learned quickly, her natural instincts honed by the harsh lessons of her past.

"Good,"I reply, nodding approvingly. "Now, let's see how you handle yourself when the odds are stacked against you."

I gesture to the shadows of the forest, where several of my own training dummies lie in wait. "There are your enemies. Show me what you've learned," I rumble.

Without a moment's hesitation, Rhea sprints toward the targets, her dagger gleaming wickedly in the morning light. I watch her, pride swelling within me.

As she strikes, her movements are a blur, each target falling before her relentless assault. The dagger, imbued with ancient magic, slices through the practice dummies as if they were made of air. I can see the concentration etched on her face, the single-minded focus that I've instilled in her.

When the last dummy falls, she turns to me, her chest heaving with exertion, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. "Did I pass?" she asks.

I stride towards her. "With flying colors," I confirm, my hand reaching out to clasp her shoulder in a rare display of camaraderie.

Her hand covers mine, a silent acknowledgment of the bond we've forged in the fires of adversity. Her gaze holds mine with an intensity that steals the breath from my lungs.

Weeks pass quickly, and Rhea has become proficient enough at fighting, so I decide it's time to test her skills in an actual battle. We scout out a group of dark elves on the outskirts of a nearby village. Our first real raid is finally upon us.

The following morning, we initiate a sneak attack on the dark elves' camp. The forest becomes alive with the sounds of battle. I move with lethal precision, my every sense attuned to the chaos unfolding around us. Rhea is a blur of motion at my side. Her dagger flashes in the sunlight as she strikes with the speed and grace of a hunting falcon.

"Stay close," I command, my voice a low growl that cuts through the din of clashing steel.

She nods, her hazel eyes reflecting the fierce determination that has become her signature. "I've got this," she assures me.

I watch as she darts toward a dark elf, her movements fluid and silent. She strikes true, her dagger slashing across the elf's thigh, dropping him to the ground with a strangled cry. But another elf, larger and more menacing, rounds on her with a snarl of fury.

I'm moving before I can think, my sword singing as it cleaves the air. The elf doesn't stand a chance. My blade finds its mark, the impact reverberating up my arm as he falls. I spin around, ready to defend Rhea from any further threats, but she's already on her feet, her eyes wide with gratitude.

She falls into step beside me, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. "I thought I could handle this," she admits, the tremor in her voice betraying her bravado. "But it's so much harder than I thought it would be."

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