17. Athena

17

ATHENA

R aven's footsteps echo off the stone walls as she leads me through the mansion's twisting corridors, her dove-gray wings brushing against tapestries and ancient artwork. The deeper we venture into the east wing, the mustier the air becomes, thick with the scent of aged stone and forgotten spaces.

"Uriel never comes to this part of the house." Raven's violet eyes glint with mischief. "Too busy playing with his precious weapons to notice what's right under his nose."

She pushes open a heavy wooden door, its hinges groaning in protest. Beyond lies a hidden courtyard that takes my breath away. High stone walls stretch toward the sky, their weathered faces draped in dark crimson vines with thorns as long as my fingers. The vines pulse with a faint purple glow, their magical nature evident in how they seem to absorb the sounds from outside.

"The perfect spot for a human to learn some real skills." Raven's angular features soften for a moment. She limps forward, her left leg dragging slightly on the stone tiles. "No one to coddle you here."

The courtyard itself is a fighter's paradise. Wooden practice dummies stand sentinel in one corner, their bodies scarred from countless blade strikes. Weapon racks line the walls, holding everything from simple wooden staves to wicked-looking curved daggers.

"Did you create this place?" I run my hand along a rack of throwing knives, their edges gleaming despite the courtyard's shadowy atmosphere.

"Uriel acts put out by me, but he let me have it. Helped me get everything set up here." Raven stretches her wings, the feathers catching what little light filters down from above. "When you can't fight like you used to, you find new ways to stay sharp." She grabs two wooden practice swords, tossing one my way. "Now, let's see what you're made of, little human."

The weight of the practice sword feels foreign in my hands, but there's something thrilling about holding it. Here, away from my sister's protective gaze and my father's constant worry, I might finally have a chance to prove I'm more than just the fragile human they think I am.

The practice sword whistles through the air as I swing, missing Raven by several feet. She doesn't mock my clumsy attempt, just adjusts my grip with calloused fingers.

"Your father would burst a blood vessel if he saw this." Raven circles me, her movements fluid despite her injury. "Did I ever tell you about my first real battle? I was younger than you, fresh out of training. Got stuck with guard duty at the Gates of Ash."

Another swing, another miss. Sweat drips down my spine.

"Keep your core tight," she says, demonstrating the proper stance. "So there I was, bored out of my mind, when this massive shadow demon comes crashing through. Three times my size, covered in barbs that could shred steel." She parries my next strike effortlessly. "Everyone else froze. But me? I saw my chance."

The next few exchanges leave my arms burning, but I manage to block two of her attacks.

"Better." Her violet eyes spark with approval. "That shadow demon thought I'd be an easy target. Small, inexperienced. But that's the thing about being underestimated – it makes people careless."

I press forward with a series of strikes she taught me, each one stronger than the last. The thorned vines pulse brighter around us, as if feeding off our energy.

"I didn't win that fight." Raven's midnight hair falls across her face as she demonstrates a defensive maneuver. "Got thrown clear across the courtyard. But I got back up. Kept that demon busy long enough for reinforcements to arrive." She taps my shoulder with her practice sword. "Sometimes victory isn't about being the strongest. It's about being the most stubborn."

The words sink deep into my chest. All my life, I've been sheltered, protected, treated like glass that might shatter. But here in this hidden courtyard, with Raven's battle-earned wisdom washing over me, I feel something shift inside. Each strike of wood against wood, each story of triumph and failure, builds something new in my bones.

And this becomes our routine.

Each morning, dawn breaks through my window, painting shadows across the wooden floor of my borrowed room. I slip from beneath the silken sheets, careful not to make a sound as I retrieve the practice dagger Raven gave me - dulled metal wrapped in leather strips. My muscles ache from yesterday's training, but it's a satisfying burn that makes me feel alive.

In the mirror, my honey-blonde curls are a mess, but I don't bother fixing them. Instead, I focus on my stance, remembering Raven's instructions. Feet shoulder-width apart. Core tight. The dagger becomes an extension of my arm as I move through the forms.

Strike. Block. Pivot.

The movements flow smoother each day, though I'm far from graceful. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple as I imagine opponents surrounding me. My reflection shows golden-green eyes narrowed in concentration, a fire burning there I never knew existed.

My nightdress swishes as I duck and weave, practicing the evasive maneuvers that could save my life. No magic to protect me, no sister or father to sweep in at the last moment. Just my own strength, my own will.

The dagger whistles through the air. I catch a glimpse of myself mid-motion - chest heaving, cheeks flushed. For once, I don't see the soft, helpless human everyone else sees. I see someone becoming dangerous.

A scrape on my knuckle from yesterday's session stings as I grip the dagger tighter. Raven says pain is a teacher, and I'm learning to welcome its lessons. Each bruise, each callus forming on my palms, marks another step away from the sheltered life I've known.

In that hidden courtyard, under Raven's watchful eye, I'm not Ilreth's fragile daughter or Astrid's baby sister. I'm just a warrior in training, learning to survive in a world that sees my humanity as weakness.

The morning light grows stronger, and I know I'll need to leave soon. But I like this time in the morning to myself. It's helped center me.

I tuck the practice dagger away beneath my mattress, my fingers lingering on its worn grip. Soon, I'll prove to them all that being human doesn't make me helpless. It makes me determined.

I eat breakfast alone and then go to the workshop, which is empty. It's been so long since I've been without friends that it's jolting. But when the afternoon light slants through the window, I grin and head for the opposite side of the house.

Sweat drips from my forehead as I collapse onto the stone bench beside Raven, my practice sword clattering to the ground. My muscles burn, but the pain feels different now - like a badge of honor rather than something to fear.

"You're getting faster." Raven stretches her wings, the dove-gray feathers catching the morning light. A grimace flickers across her angular features as she shifts her left leg. "Almost took my head off with that last swing."

"Sure I did." I laugh, pulling my honey-blonde curls away from my neck. "I've seen you fight at half-speed. You're still holding back."

"Maybe." Her violet eyes dance with amusement. "But you're not the same scared little demon-lord's daughter who arrived here." She reaches into her belt pouch and tosses me a water skin. "You've got real fire in you now."

The cool water soothes my parched throat. "I've always had fire. Everyone was just too busy dousing it to notice."

"Including a certain xaphan who can't keep his eyes off you?" Raven's sharp-tongued wit makes an appearance, her midnight black hair falling forward as she leans in conspiratorially.

Heat rises to my cheeks, and not from exertion. "Uriel has always brought out the worst in me."

"Please." She rolls her eyes. "You two drag out your real selves. I never see him get into it - or enjoy it - as much as he does with you."

"He's just trying to keep me in line." But even the excuse sounds flimsy to me.

"If that's what you need to tell yourself…" Raven's knowing smirk widens. "Then, yeah. He's just doing it to keep you in line."

I fidget with the water skin, remembering how Uriel's golden eyes had lingered on me at breakfast this morning. How his cruel smile had softened just slightly when I'd matched his sarcasm with my own.

"It's different here," I admit quietly. "With you and him. I feel…more like myself."

Raven's expression grows serious. "Because we see you as you are, not what we think you should be." She clasps my shoulder with calloused fingers. "Being human isn't a weakness. You just have to learn how to be a stronger version of you."

And she's right. Being here, I've never felt like the fragile thing to be protected - which I always hated. I feel like I can learn to be my own person instead of fighting to not be smothered by someone else.

Since when did my cage become more comfortable than my home?