The morning sun beat down mercilessly on the Raven Guild courtyard.
The heat was nothing compared to the burning frustration inside Elara. She stood in the center of the training ring, sweating completely through her dark tunic.
Her left arm was tightly bound in a thick linen sling, securing her broken collarbone against her chest. The injury sent a dull, sickening throb through her shoulder with every step she took, but she refused to rest.
She gripped a heavy iron practice sword in her right hand, swinging it awkwardly through the air. Fighting with only one arm threw her entire center of gravity off. She stumbled slightly after a heavy downward swing, her boots kicking up a cloud of dry dust.
"You swing like you are trying to chop wet wood in the dark, Nightborne," a harsh voice called out from the edge of the ring.
Elara stopped and lowered her sword, wiping a mixture of sweat and dirt from her forehead with the back of her wrist.
