The morning air was crisp, biting against my skin as I watched the four women train with a determination I could hardly comprehend. Especially her. She moved with a fluid grace, each strike and parry executed with the precision of a seasoned warrior. She challenged everything I believed in, every step of the way, and I hated the way my heart quickened when she met my gaze. In all my centuries, I had never encountered a woman like her—persistent, stubborn to a fault, beautiful yet deceptively strong beneath that soft exterior. My father's cruelty had instilled in me a belief that women were better off at home, sheltered from the brutality of war. Yet, here she was, standing tall and defiant, making me question every lesson I had been forced to learn. It terrified me how much I have came to believe in her skills. Against everything I have ever known.

I clenched my jaw, eyes locked on hers as she paused in her training, sweat glistening on her brow. "Burn or bury the weapons she's used." I barked at one of the men. "No woman should touch them." I saw the flicker of anger in her eyes, a fire that matched the one blazing within me.