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Noah continued punching the bag in her place. “Since when has it ever been fair? When I was in Handent, I fought a Profane who forced me to fake my death in order to escape, and another captured me like a fly in a web. In Welindar, the battle was lost because I failed to kill Kaisen before he could transform. This is the struggle of fighting against the Profane, the struggle of being outclassed and overpowered. In this war, surviving with just a bruised ego is victory enough. You stood up to that monster, you fought, you survived.

That previous single thought of her own indecency was wiped out by the tidal wave of her curiosity. About the only thing that she was still aware of was her father’s steady breathing and making sure not to wake him. Taking care not to cause too much disturbance on the mattress, she gently shifted further down the bed. Her dad was still unfolded like starfish, so her legs had to slide out alongside them as she brought her face down to the level of his pelvis.

The next morning, Valia stood in the garden behind her home, overgrown after a year of neglect, but still beautiful. She held her sword out in front of her, breathing deeply. Step by step, she underwent the Dance of the Ivunara, an elvish custom performed before battle, as well as for exercise. It was a war dance to ease the body’s mana flow and loosen the muscles. Each day was easier, and she felt like she almost back to her old self.