SERAPHINA’S POV
After breakfast, it was time for Daniel's training.
“Come watch, Mom,” he begged, practically vibrating with excitement.
I didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
Nightfang’s training ground was nothing like the OTS facilities I’d grown accustomed to.
There were no clean white lines painted on the ground, no neatly labeled stations or observation decks with glass partitions.
Instead, the space was rough and alive—packed earth, tree stumps worn smooth, climbing rigs lashed with rope and iron.
The air carried a faint metallic tang of old blood, the resin of pine, and something feral that settled in my lungs and lingered.
Daniel stepped into the center, having changed into a pair of dark pants and a matching vest.
He was still so small, all sharp elbows and narrow shoulders, but his forearms had been noticeably toned by training, muscle standing out when he flexed his hands.
