“Good evening everyone. I hope you all had an enjoyable weekend,” Ravena started the class.

  It took all my willpower not to look at everyone else and pretend that nothing at all had happened. Definitely not an event where a crazed deity planned on world domination. And I was definitely just fine, why would I ever have internal injuries?

  But lying to myself wasn’t going to make this class any easier.

  “Let’s get right into it. Wasters and positions,” she said matter-of-factly.

  We all grabbed our practice swords and took up positions far enough away from each other that we could do the movements without hinderance.

  “Vom Tag, Oberhau, Alber, Pflug, Vom Tag. Go.”

  My blade started angled slightly back, my body coiled tight like a spring. Then I cut diagonally downward. Recovered to a low guard, point forward, the blade angled toward the ground. Advanced and extended a thrust at the midline, then brought my sword back up by my shoulder, raised high like at the start.

  “Again.”

  We repeated the exercise several times before changing the sequence. We kept it up until I thought my arms might fall off, my back screaming at the constantly contracted muscles in my core. What I wouldn’t give for a massage. But despite all my wishing, no masseuse was to be found. Finally, Ravena called for a break after countless sword drills.

  “You know what I always tell you – fight is fight. Well, even though I’m technically your sword instructor, I’m a warrior at heart first and foremost. So, I’m going to teach you to be warriors. You’re less likely to have a sword in the real world – a warrior should be a weapon as much as wield one. Today, you begin hand-to-hand combat training along with your sword training.” She pointed at the rack full of practice swords. “Wasters away. All you need is you for this next part.”

  I put the sword away, halfway grateful, halfway curious about what was coming. Hand-to-hand? Was she planning on turning us into sword-wielding MMA fighters or something? I returned to my spot, Ravena standing with her hands on her hips as she waited.

  Despite my extremely sore body, a part of me was excited. I’d always been interested in self-defense but had never gone to any classes before. That said, I worried how much I’d be able to do with just how sore I was.

  As everyone returned, she began. “Breakfalls, or falling safely, is key to fighting. If you don’t know how to safely fall, you shouldn’t be fighting at all. I’m going to show you a couple of basic falls and how to recover from them in a fight.”

  Without another word, she tipped backwards, chin tucked, her arm and hand slamming on the mat as she came down. She let momentum carry her leg and swung it forward. She locked the opposite arm in place, swinging the other leg and threading it through the gap until she was standing once more. It wasn’t until she was standing again, dusting her hands on her pants that I realized it was on purpose – a demonstration.

  “Like that, for example,” she said, not even winded. “Don’t worry, I’ll slow everything down and take it beat by beat. If you do any part of this wrong, you could very easily hurt yourself.”

  She began to explain how to safely fall backwards, rolling off the shoulder instead of landing flat on your back. She had us practice from a sitting position first to understand where exactly on your body was supposed to meet the floor.

  Trusting gravity was nearly impossible for me. Gravity equaled pain, ergo I did all in my power to not fall. But I tried, my entire self screaming on the inside, as the natural pull took my body to the floor. Landing in a rolling position on my shoulder instead of my back was a lot less painful than I expected, though my tender body still balked at the sudden, hard stop.

  We practiced falls for about a minute or so, before Ravena called out for a break out of nowhere.

  Strange, we’ve barely even started with this, I thought.

  She walked up to me, concern in her eyes. “Drew, are you alright?”

  Shit. Is it that obvious? I considered lying about the whole thing, and I looked at everyone else. All looked uncomfortable, but Antun regained his composure first. “You know that fight we told you about?” he said, making Ravena turn to him. “The one we hired you to train us for? Well, it happened this weekend.”

  He didn’t go further, making Ravena pursue after a moment. “And? What happened?”

  “We won.” He smiled as if he was talking about a game and not a battle.

  Ravena looked at each of us, scanning as if she could see the wounds inflicted on each of us, and finding the others lacking. “And why is Drew the only one acting like she participated in a fight at all?”

  The words hit the others harder than she meant. But she couldn’t have known why. They’d been compelled to freeze in place, completely unable to do anything but watch as Nikola taunted me, always dancing just out of reach and making me wear myself down. Having to watch as I was taken away, unable to do anything to stop it; unable to do anything at all until Nikola was dead.

  But we couldn’t tell Ravena all that. Clearing his throat, Antun said, “We all got separated in the chaos but found each other in the end. We couldn’t help her with her fight.”

  Ravena narrowed her eyes, as if she could detect the half-truths and was trying to decide whether or not it was worth pushing further. After a moment, she looked at me. “Even when you’re bruised and hurting, you fight. That’s why we practice even when we’re broken – but I do have my limits. Drew, do you feel like you can safely keep up with tonight’s drills?”

  My inner wimp quailed. No, don’t make me, it hurts! But I straightened my back, nodding at Ravena and simply said, “Yes. I promise to tell you if I need a break.”

  She gave the tiniest grin before her face went stoic again. “Right then, reps of falls and recoveries, then we move on to striking.” She had us do five repetitions on each side for each type of fall, ending those with repetitions of getting back to our feet as if we were in a fight.

  As sore as I was, I was able to keep up. The forward fall was the most difficult for me, as my knees kept wanting to bend and my hands wanted to come forward to brace my fall. But Ravena warned the dangers of catching a fall with only hands, the x-rays of broken wrists a step too-much proof, leaving me queasy. But as nauseous as I was, I didn’t let my hands creep forward again, palms slamming the mat as I landed with my arms.

  Ravena nodded, satisfied that I had learned my lesson. She turned to everyone. “A combination before water. Sideways breakfall, roll, technical stand-up. Five reps each side. Ready? Go.”

  Trust and surrender – to gravity, to this training – felt alien after Nikola. What he did to me, both before and after he took my reincarnation energy, made it hard to want to even trust myself at times. Whenever an intrusive thought came up, I wondered first whether it was actually my own thought or someone trying to force theirs onto me.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I rolled my shoulders to relax before checking my stance, knees slightly bent as I waited for Ravena’s tap – the signal that we’d been “hit.” I let gravity take me, tucking my chin into my chest to keep from getting whiplash. I impacted the mat with my hip at a forty-five degree angle, exhaling in a short, sharp breath. My fingers stayed together as my hand hit the floor with a flat whap.

  As momentum carried me backward, I drew a knee to my chest and crossed the opposite arm over it, the other arm braced on the mat. I felt like a spring as I lined up for a shoulder roll. The shoulder Ravena had pushed met the mat, and the weight shifted diagonally from that shoulder across my spine to the other hip. My back foot gave a small push to help the roll continue, my eyes following the line of the roll. Free arm sweeping in front of me like an oar, I finished the roll sitting on my hip, a hand behind me for support. The forward arm bent into a guard as my legs formed a staggered L-shape – front knee up, rear leg bent.

  I inhaled as I planted my back hand flat behind me, fingers angled out. With my sole on the mat, I lifted my hips and swung my rear leg underneath me, threading it through the gap between the foot on the mat and the hand anchored behind. As that leg landed, I shifted my weight onto it and rose straight up.

  I reset into a guarded stance, my knees soft, torso angled sideways to my imaginary opponent. The former anchor hand came up to guard, the other still near centerline. With a slight pivot of my lead foot, I finished the recovery. No sooner had I gotten up when Ravena tapped the opposite shoulder for the next set, having deemed the first one good enough.

  I continued, finishing the sets, my body screaming at me the entire time. We broke for water and I did my best not to limp, my entire body feeling tenderized. I sipped, trying to avoid cramping as much as possible.

  “Hey,” Michael asked quietly, “are you okay? If you need to sit out the rest of the lesson, I’m sure Ravena would understand.”

  “Really? That’s a nice thought,” I sighed dreamily. Then I sniffed my nose, straightening my spine with a look of determination. “Well, let’s finish this lesson strong. Shall we?”

  Michael smiled. “That’s my girl. I’ll give you a massage after this.”

  I melted inside, my face splitting into a wide grin. “Promise?”

  “Promise.” He winked at me.

  I couldn’t help the small, happy laugh, wincing at all the movement it caused. “Ooh, this is uncomfortable,” I emphasized. “I’m going to hold you to that promise, you know.”

  “I’m counting on it,” he said, his eyes going a little predatory.

  I blamed my blush on a pretend heart rate.

  “Moving on,” Ravena said as Michael and I walked back to our places. “The palm strike is the safest way to hit without injuring your knuckles or wrists.” She motioned for me to come forward for a demonstration. Grabbing my hand and extending my arm, she had me hold my hand open, my fingers curling slightly.

  “Power comes from your hips, not your arm. Here,” she pointed to the heel of my palm, directly under the thumb pad, “is where you strike.” She demonstrated with her own body now. Putting one hand up to guard and stepping forward on the same side as her striking hand, she drove the strike through her hips, keeping her elbow close. As her palm met the invisible target, she exhaled in a short, controlled burst.

  “Don’t shove – drive. Your hips throw the strike, your arm just delivers it.” She had me go back to my place. “We’ll practice this until you won’t hurt yourselves doing it.”

  On my first attempt, I overextended my arm. Ravena tapped my elbow lightly, saying, “Keep it soft – locked joints break bones too.” I didn’t want to see any more x-rays, so I did my best to adjust, keeping my joints loose so my strength could flow right through without stopping.

  Around rep fourteen, she nodded. “Alright, you’ve got the basis of that down. Onto the jab.” She demonstrated a quick, straight punch, her fist closed. “We’ll test distance, precision, and posture control.” She walked over to Syla, pulling her arms into the right positions as she described what she was doing. “To setup, you’ll want your hands up in guard, elbows tucked in. Lead foot forward, weight balanced between your feet equally. Chin slightly down, eyes forward, and you’re ready to jab.”

  Ravena stood next to Syla and demonstrated once more, going quickly at first, then stepping beside Syla and helping her body replicate the moves slower. “Snap your lead fist straight out and back, rotating the wrist so your palm is facing down when you’re fully extended. Your shoulder rises to guard your jaw. At extension, exhale short and sharp. Don’t linger in an extended position, you’ll be wide open to attacks that way. The quick retraction is just as important as the punch. Speed, not strength. A jab is a question – the cross is the answer, though we’ll go over that one another day.”

  She had us do jabs over and over, coming to each of us to correct it. For as simple a punch as it was, I still needed help. My wrist kept sitting out of line. Ravena adjusted it, saying, “Straight line from knuckles to elbow.” She drew a line down my arm to show the alignment. “Put your wrist how it was before.” I did, and she drew another line, this one much more crooked. “You’ll punch yourself out of the story if you hit like this. Keep your alignment.”

  More broken bones? Is it even worth it to try hand-to-hand combat when one little mistake can lead to weeks out of commission?... Well, maybe not weeks as a vampire, but still.

  I slowed down my jabs to keep my wrist straight, gradually speeding up as my wrist got used to the alignment. The whooshing of air and soft grunts were all we heard for the next few minutes as we practiced jabs over and over.

  Ravena stopped us. “Now you have two strikes in your arsenal with only one night of practice. What we talk about next is important not only for what you’ve already learned, but for what is coming up in future lessons. Posture and base – the foundation for balance and power. Without it, your strikes won’t land nearly hard enough and you’ll hurt yourself more than your opponent.”

  Pointing down at herself to demonstrate, she said, “Feet shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent – not crouched, just… alive, not locked like a doll. Your weight should be centered in the balls of your feet, not your heels. Your hips should be facing your target but your shoulders are angled – it presents a smaller profile. Everyone adjust your posture accordingly. Try to keep in mind: if someone pushed you right now, would you fall? If so, adjust your stance.”

  Everyone shuffled into position. I shifted my weight until my balance felt alive – light enough to move, heavy enough to stay. I couldn’t help the smile that started, though I kept it small.

  “Last thing: breath control. I’ve told you a couple of times where it’s best to exhale, let me expand on that. It’s all about timing your exhale with your exertion to prevent tension and maintain stamina. Michael, throw a jab but instead of exhaling, inhale.” He did, the throw much weaker than when he exhaled on the next demonstration. “Proper breath also lends power to your movements. You exhale with every strike or exertion, inhaling naturally between combinations. Never hold your breath – it stiffens your motion and telegraphs effort. Your breath is your rhythm. If you stop breathing, you stop thinking. Let’s do one more drill and we’ll call it a night. I want you to do a palm strike and jab then recover, focusing on your breathing.”

  Ravena did the exercise with us, helping us hear the rhythm as we began. I set my stance. Inhale. Short exhale with palm strike. Again, exhale with jab. Inhale the reset. I went again, repeating it until the breathing rhythm became automatic.

  “Well done tonight, everyone. Now, I suppose the question is, do I keep teaching you or will you drop this now that your battle is won?” Ravena asked.

  I looked around at the others. I wanted to keep taking classes. I had no idea what was coming up now that Nikola was gone, and I knew I’d rather be prepared. The others seemed to have a similar thought, with Antun giving the look that said, it’s up to all of you.

  “I for one want to keep going. You said earlier that fight is fight. Well, I don’t know what kind of fights we’re going to be facing, if there are even going to be any more fights, but I’d rather be ready,” I said, hoping that I had read everyone else’s faces right.

  “A pragmatic view,” Ravena replied with a grin. “Same schedule work for everyone?” A round of nodding heads and verifying faces. “Excellent. Let’s do our cooldown, then we’ll really call it a night.”

  We went through the cooldown routine, stretching our bodies until I felt like a sore, limp noodle. Oh, I am definitely going to hold Michael to that promise of a massage. My blush deepened at the memory of the promise in his eyes. Ravena left, and the air became even more comfortable as it was just the four of us.

  “How are you holding up, darling?” Syla asked me.

  I gave a weak chuckle, “Whatever you’re feeling, times ten. That’s what I’ve got.”

  “I’m going to get some tea started for everyone. Drew, you may want to draw an Epsom salt bath for yourself—”

  “I promised I’d give her a massage after practice,” Michael interjected.

  “Oh, are you offering, sir?” Antun joked.

  “Go find your own masseur,” Michael laughed. “That was a Drew-exclusive offer.”

  “Rude,” Antun whined sarcastically, making me laugh and cringe, holding my cramping sides.

  “Okay, I think I’ll take that massage sooner than later,” I managed to say.

  Michael gave a sympathetic smile and sketched a bow. “After you.”

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