But he wasn’t here.
And every second he remained absent…
More hearts shifted.
More minds wavered.
And Theron’s shadow stretched longer across the guild.
“Begin hand-to-hand combat trials!” the major yelled and we all moved to the rings.
Soon the clang of steel rang out through the training ring, the air thick with dust and the scent of sweat and determination. We moved as a unit. Thrall Squad and the lowborns now one entity, blades flashing and boots pounding into the packed earth.
Ayda and Camus sparred across from me, their rhythm so fluid it was like watching a single body in motion split across two souls. Camus ducked low, and Ayda spun behind him, their blades cutting through the air in perfect synchronization.
“They’ve done this a thousand times,” Riven muttered beside me, breathless and impressed.
“They don’t even have to speak,” I said, eyes tracking their flow. “They justknow.”
Across the ring, Teren moved like a shadow. Fast, clever, never in the same place for more than a heartbeat. His blade was an extension of his thoughts—quick, sharp, and perfectly timed. Then there was Luthias, who fought like a living avalanche, his brute strength overwhelming even the more disciplined Crownwatch trainees we’d invited to join the session.
Kaia, small but deadly, was focused on helping Cordelle. She moved with surgical precision, dancing just beyond his reach, calling out corrections as they sparred.
“Don’t follow the blade,follow the feet,” she urged.
Cordelle, still healing but refusing to be sidelined, gave her a faint smile and adjusted mid-strike.
We trained until our bodies ached and the sun hung low, a crimson smudge above the cliffline.
Afterward, we ate together, crammed shoulder-to-shoulder on stone benches outside the dining hall. Laughter came easier than expected. The lowborns shared stories of their early days as riders, and Ferrula challenged Luthias to an arm-wrestling match shebarelylost.
We returned to the barracks as twilight folded in.
Inside, it felt different now.
Fuller.
Warmer.
Kaia dropped her satchel onto the bunk beside Riven’s and flopped down with a groan. “This one’s mine.”
Teren took the one above hers, tossing his jacket over the edge. “Not bad for a glorified prison cell.”
Camus claimed a spot across from the hearth, with Ayda taking the bunk above his. Luthias settled near them, his cot creaking under his bulk but holding steady.
The space buzzed with low conversation and the soft clink of armor being stored. It felt alive in a way it hadn’t before. Less like a temporary holding and more like…home.
I washed up at the basin, scrubbing the grime from my skin as fatigue dragged at my limbs.
But when I lay down—my body aching, my mind tired—it didn’t bring peace.
The dreams came almost immediately.
Cold.
Vivid.
And this time, there was no mistakinghim.
