The storm did not let up the next day. Sheets of rain battered the fortress walls, turning the training yard into a mire of mud and slipping boots. Yet the warriors trained harder than ever, their blades striking through the downpour with a rhythm that echoed across the valley. Evelyn stood at the edge, her cloak plastered to her skin, rain dripping down her hair, watching each swing with a critical eye.
They were tired, but they did not falter. The night before had changed them. Where doubt once lingered, now there was steel. She could see it in the way they moved, the way they lifted one another when one stumbled, the way they shouted encouragement through gritted teeth. These were no longer uncertain wolves waiting for guidance. They had chosen her, and they would follow her wherever she led.
