The Second Chance Of The Rejected Moon (Celine and Bastian) novel Chapter 109

Chapter 109

I set my sword down on the weapon rack for a moment and quietly make my way around the training hall One by one. I light the lamps until the enormous room is fully illuminated. Then I walk over to the fireplace. Crouching down, I arrange a couple of logs, stir the embers that still hold a bit of warmth, and little by little, the fire comes back to life. The crackling wood breaks the silence, and the room slowly begins to warm, though the cold trapped within the thick stone walls still lingers in the air.

I take a deep breath and look over the training course the Victorius brothers prepared especially for me. My eyes travel from one station to the next, over every obstacle and every piece of equipment, mentally reviewing the routine ve repeated so many times since arriving in the Thorn Kingdom.

But it’s no longer enough.

I need more.

Much more.

If I’m truly going to become queen and protect the people I love, I can’t be satisfied with simply surpassing yesterday’s training. I have to be better than the Celine I was a week ago, yesterday…

Even an hour ago.

I begin with my stretches, feeling each muscle gradually loosen after the morning’s events. I roll my shoulders, bend my legs, and stretch my arms until the tension slowly leaves my body. Once I feel ready, I start running laps around the hall. At first, I keep a steady pace to warm up, but with every lap, I pick up a little more speed. My breathing quickens, my heart pounds against my chest, and the cold finally gives way to the heat spreading through my body.

Without stopping, I move on to the obstacle course. I leap over the first barriers, weave between the wooden posts, and launch myself across the platforms with movements far more confident than during my first training sessions. My feet find their balance almost instinctively, and my body responds with a speed it never had before.

I reach the climbing rope and begin to ascend.

One hand after the other, I pull myself upward as the muscles in my arms begin to tighten. I grit my teeth and keep climbing until the burn settles into my shoulders and forearms. When exhaustion finally overtakes my muscles, I let my body fall.

But I don’t fall the way I used to.

I’m no longer the sack of potatoes crashing awkwardly onto the mats.

Now I twist through the air, absorb the impact with my shoulder or my back depending on my position, and roll smoothly before rising to my feet in one fluid motion. No matter how high I fall from, every impact becomes part of the traming, and every landing is cleaner than the last.

I go back to the rope.

Then again.

And again.

I keep climbing over and over until my muscles are burning and my hands feel the rough fibers scraping against my skin. Sweat runs down my forehead despite the cold still filling the hall, and my breathing grows heavier with every climb. But instead of stopping, I keep pushing forward.

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