IRIS

The soreness wakes me before the sun does.

Every muscle in my body protests as I roll out of bed, the ache in my legs sharp and persistent. My arms are worse, tight and heavy from yesterday’s training. Even breathing feels like it takes effort.

Still, I get up.

I don’t know if it’s stubbornness or guilt or something else, but I lace up my shoes, throw on a hoodie, and head outside. The sky is still that pale, pre-dawn gray.

The clearing looks the same as yesterday, but I don’t.

I’m already tired.

My grandfather is waiting, as expected. He gives no greeting, just a nod, and then...