The shrill sound of knocking dragged Layla out of sleep before the sun had even graced the sky. Her body ached in protest as she rolled over and her muscles still sore from the previous day.
"Layla," a firm voice called through the door. "Training starts in twenty minutes. Be downstairs in ten, don't be late."
Moon
She groaned quietly, pressing her face into the pillow for a moment. Why did her body feel like it had been trampled by a herd of wolves?
Dragging herself out of bed, she moved slowly, washing her face and changing into the simple training clothes that had been provided the day before. They fit snuggly against her body.
When she arrived outside, the morning air was cold and sharp, slicing through her lungs as she tried to catch her breath. Warriors were already moving across the field in synchronized formations. It was such a beautiful sight to see.
As she looked around admiring the scenery, taking it all in, she spotted her instructor, Arwen, already staring at her, clearly waiting for her.
Layla couldn't help but think back to yesterday's training. Her body still ached, but surprisingly, it was the kind of ache she was beginning to love.
She walked quickly toward Arwen.
"Good morning," she greeted when she reached her.
"Morning," came the curt response.
"You're five minutes late," Arwen added, glancing at the watch she held in her hand.
"I'm sorry," Layla apologized quickly.
"Less apology, more action," Arwen dismissed her words with a flick of her hand. "Today, we're starting with the basics of defensive moves."
Layla swallowed hard and gave a small nod, trying to ignore the dull ache still lingering in her muscles from yesterday. She doesn't have a lick of ideas of what she's talking about but she's ready to do as instructed. She needs this.
"Stand here," Arwen instructed, pointing to a marked area on the ground. Layla moved into place, standing awkwardly with her arms stiff at her sides, unsure of what to do.
"First rule of defense," Arwen began, circling her slowly, "you don't wait to be hit before you react. You read body language, anticipate, and move."
Layla nodded again.
Arwen moved swiftly, her hand coming toward Layla's shoulder, not fast enough to cause harm, but fast enough to make Layla flinch. She gasped, scared of the sudden movement and almost started hyperventilating but Arwen sharp voice cut that short
"Wrong," Arwen said flatly. "Don't flinch. Prepare."
"I—I'm trying," Layla stammered, frustrated with herself.
"I know. That's why we're practicing."
They went over stances, on how to balance her weight on the balls of her feet, how to keep her hands up for quick defense, and how to shift her body to avoid impact. Layla stumbled a few times, almost all the time, her movements stiff and hesitant.
"Again," Arwen said for the tenth time.
Layla exhaled shakily, wiping sweat from her brow as she reset her stance.
"Better," Arwen said eventually, and it felt like the greatest compliment she'd received in a while.
By the end of the session, Layla was panting, her muscles burning, but there was a strange satisfaction blooming in her chest the one that made her straighten her back just a little more and raise her head high, just a tad bit.
"You did better than I expected, but you're still no where good," Arwen said, handing her a bottle of water.
"Thank you," Layla murmured, smiling faintly. Thankful for the compliment, it felt like the sky's opened just for her.
"You'll get better, but only if you put in work. Change doesn't happen in a day."
Layla nodded, gripping the bottle tightly.
"I will."
Layla walked back to her room, her body aching in places she didn't even know existed. Her arms were sore from blocking strikes, her legs heavy from practicing footwork over and over again, and her shoulders felt like they carried the weight of the world.
But beneath the pain was a sense of quiet pride.
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, breathing heavily. Her heart was still racing, not from exhaustion, but from something else. Something warmer. Something steadier. Something that told her maybe, just maybe, she could belong here.
This ache… it wasn't like the pain she'd known all her life. It wasn't punishment. It wasn't cruelty.
It was growth.
She stepped into the shower, letting the warm water soothe her muscles. As the steam rose around her, she thought back to Arwen's words.
"You'll get better, But only if you put in work."
She would.
She would keep working for it. For herself.
By the time she stepped out, her body was cleaner, her thoughts clearer. She dressed in the comfortable clothes the pack provided and collapsed into her bed. For once, the silence in the room wasn't lonely, far from that, it was peaceful.
As her eyes fluttered shut, she realized that this place, this strange, advanced, intimidating pack was slowly starting to feel a little less foreign.
And she? A little less like a ghost.
By the time Layla woke up, her body felt significantly lighter, but her stomach twisted with hunger. The soreness from training still clung to her limbs, but it wasn't unbearable.
A knock sounded at her door, gentle but firm.
She blinked, still adjusting to the brightness of the room. Had she overslept?
"It's time for lunch," a voice called from the other side. It was one of the guards, she couldn't tell which one, she hardly knows their names, they don't really talk to her, but she recognized the tone. Polite. Brief.
Layla dragged herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes. "I'll be out in a minute," she called back, her voice still hoarse with sleep.
She dressed quickly, ran a hand through her hair, and made sure her shirt didn't cling awkwardly to her still-sore back. Then she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The guard waiting for her gave a short nod, then turned and started walking without a word. Layla followed, her steps a little more confident than they had been the first day she was there.
The dining room was already half full when Layla walked in. She took her usual spot at the far end, trying not to draw attention to herself.
But of course, that was impossible where Noah was concerned.
As soon as he saw her, his face lit up and he hurried over, his small feet pattering across the tiled floor.
"Hi!" he grinned, plopping down beside her without asking.
Layla smiled despite herself. "Hi, Noah."
"I didn't go to school today," he announced proudly, swinging his legs under the table.
"No?" she asked, amused. "Why not?"
"I told Mama my stomach hurt," he whispered conspiratorially, then leaned in closer. "But it didn't. I just didn't feel like going."
Layla raised a brow. "Won't you get in trouble?"
He shrugged. "Nah. Dad says I'm too smart already. I read two books yesterday. Big ones."
"Wow," she said, pretending to be impressed. "Then maybe you should get a break."
"Exactly!" he beamed, then frowned a little. "But Mama said I have to go tomorrow."
Layla chuckled softly, reaching for the bread on her plate. "That's fair. Even geniuses have to go to school sometimes."
Noah giggled and leaned his head on her arm. "You're funny."
They ate in companionable silence after that, Noah occasionally kicking his legs or humming some tune under his breath. Layla watched him out of the corner of her eye, a strange warmth growing in her chest. He was lively, talkative, and innocent, something she hadn't been around in so long. She missed her parents.
After finishing the last bite of her meal, she leaned back in her seat and sighed.
"You done?" Noah asked, his mouth still full of rice.
She nodded. "Yeah. I think I'll sit outside for a bit."
"I'll come with you," he said instantly.
"No, you finish eating first," she told him, getting up.
He pouted but stayed put.
Layla stepped out into the garden behind the dining hall. The late afternoon sun was warm but gentle, and a soft breeze rustled through the trees and flowers. The garden was vibrant with neatly trimmed hedges, tall flowering bushes, and stone benches lining up a cobbled path that wound in a small circle around a central fountain.
She made her way to one of the benches and sat down slowly, stretching her legs in front of her. The ache from the morning's training was still there, but it was dull now, like a reminder that she was still standing… still here.
The sound of birds chirping filled the quiet space, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to breathe.
Peace. She was finally feeling it, even if just for a moment.
And it felt strange.
But nice.