She was regaining her physical strength due to long hours spent exercising, trying to keep herself from thinking. She faithfully attended her magic class each day, and was making progress, although her magic did tend to surge often. Her attempts to stop those surges were not as successful as they should have been. Perhaps she didn't care enough to squash them properly. In fact, her whole life had lost its promise, and she was afflicted with a great weariness of the soul. What really matters, anyway? While pushing her mind and body to the limit kept her moving through the day, night was another matter. After eating her solitary supper in a dark corner of the restaurant, she would return to the small but attractive apartment the elders had provided for her. She tried to read the novels she picked up occasionally at a second hand shop, but they failed to capture her interest. War stories were so inaccurate, reading them merely annoyed her. Love stories were agonizing. Most nights she ended up crying herself to sleep.
