I turned to see who it was.

  A woman with a long scar cutting from her cheek to above her eye stood over me. Her armor was dull and scratched, and her eyes carried no patience. She was the kind of adventurer who'd seen too many winters and survived each by crawling.

  Then I was on the ground. Fast. The air shot from my lungs as I stared up at the group, disoriented.

  A sharp kick landed in my stomach.

  “Maybe this will teach you to act like a proper lady,” the headmaster said, her voice like sandpaper scraping bone. “I’ll be inside when you understand what’s expected of you.”

  Pain thundered in my ribs. I could barely hear. I tried to stand—another blow knocked me back.

  Now I stared up at the moon. Cold. Silent. Watching.

  What am I doing?

  Caleb had told me to be strong. To find my own path.

  But what was my path? My family was gone. Caleb was gone. Did I really want to stay here?

  No.

  A pressure lifted from my chest. One I hadn’t realized was there. I could breathe. My limbs felt weightless. My heartbeat steadied. A quiet strength coursed through me.

  I surged to my feet, blade raised, just in time to block the next strike.

  “She finally learns to block,” the adventurer said, almost amused.

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was too focused.

  Everything felt different.

  I was different.

  Ideas, instincts, clarity, everything poured into me all at once.

  I could beat her and win.

  A crack in my ribs as the world blurred and shifted around me.

  I managed to stay standing, but barely. My body screamed in protest, but I couldn’t let myself lose control. I had to stay grounded.

  The scarred woman lunged again, sword raised. The same movement Caleb used, sword angled at the hip, forward thrust meant to break through a guard.

  Leaning in, readied my blade, and focused. I couldn’t win with brute strength. I had to learn her style, read her rhythm, then strike.

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  She only aimed for my head and torso. Nothing else. She was going for the kill. But my defense held firm. My blade moved with calm precision. Her strikes grew more frustrated with every blocked blow.

  “Amy! Fall back!” someone shouted from behind her.

  I glanced toward the voice, a young man, robes fluttering, and staff in hand. A mage.

  I locked eyes with him. They trembled at my sight, he wasn’t confident in his ability. Good.

  But then another voice rang out:

  “Enhancement Magic: Quick Feet!”

  And then,

  “Earth Magic: Iron Skin!”

  Shit.

  Amy’s movements blurred, faster now. And with skin harder than stone, she was almost unstoppable. I couldn’t overpower her. I couldn’t out-speed her. If I didn’t think of something, I was going to die.

  A sudden warmth traced down my cheek.

  I reached up and wiped it away—blood. My blood.

  I looked back at the group just in time to see a small glint vanish into the shadows. A dagger. She had thrown it without hesitation.

  Sword and dagger.

  That hag!

  The headmaster hired them for this reason.

  But I felt that I could win. The only problem was the magic surrounding her. I had to think of a way to get around it.

  Dammit.

  My head throbbed from the thrashing so far. But my mind couldn’t let go of this feeling in my body.

  Thoughts clouded my judgement, Amy was landing more blows, each one stronger than the last. I couldn’t see my own arms under the crimson that washed over.

  I let it all go, thinking was holding me back. I let the anger and pain that I had held inside for years. And for a brief moment the old me came back out.

  My body started charging towards the group of adventurers. Ready for anything they had.

  Amy’s blade whistled for my neck. I ducked just in time to see the flash of a dagger.

  Pain tore through my stomach. I staggered, blood soaking my hands, but Caleb’s words burned hotter than the wound. "I’m leaving you a promise. That you’ll be strong. That you’ll live. That you’ll find your own path."

  I roared, surging forward. My blade carved across Amy’s hip and shoulder in a single motion. Her stance faltered.

  Good. Now my turn.

  I shifted my grip to one hand, blade angled down. The stance I’d stolen from the waterfowl gliding across the pond.

  Slash-up.

  Slash-down.

  Left. Right. Again. Again.

  The rhythm carried me. No thought, only emotion. Her dagger couldn’t keep up. Her sword couldn’t keep up.

  She stumbled, blood dripping from shallow cuts that would heal but sting like fire. I stopped with my blade at her throat.

  She stared up, wide-eyed. “W-what was that?”

  I smiled, a jagged, hungry smile. Proud of the pain I caused her.

  “You’ll learn if you don’t leave soon enough.”

  She flinched, and I pressed the blade closer.

  “Now leave. And never come back.”

  She looked up at me with terror, the two mages she was with brought her up to her feet. They avoided eye contact with me as they walked away. But they had each other, and they were only doing it for money it seemed.

  Money from the headmaster.