Tongen's training ground was different from the ones they were used to.
No chalk lines. No padded corners. Just a wide stretch of packed earth surrounded by low stone walls, the kind that looked like they'd been broken and rebuilt more times than anyone could count. A few wooden posts stood in uneven rows near the far edge—splintered at the tops, scorched in places. The air smelled faintly of burnt wood and something metallic.
Tongen was already there when they arrived.
He was seated on one of the stone walls with his back to them, turning something small over in his fingers—a flat stone, maybe. He didn't look up.
"Four of you," he said. Not a question.
"Yes," Mira answered.
"Didn't ask for four."
A beat of silence. Atlas shifted his weight. Ken kept very still.
Mira didn't flinch. "We know. But we figured you'd make it work."
