The Rogue's Path

Elira

The training ground hums with noise—shouts, grunts, the powerful rhythm of practice weapons—but my complete focus fixes on only one person. Vera.

Her body is marked in ways I almost don’t recognize at all. Bruises completely coat her arms and legs, ugly shades of red and deep purple, spreading exactly like spilled ink.

Her lip is split open, and her steps are highly unsteady, but she tries to walk with her head down as if no one notices her. I know better than ...