The attack comes without warning—a powerful, diagonal strike aimed at my shoulder. I lift the staff just in time to block, the impact jolting through my arms and into my chest. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this up with how bad everything hurts.
But that means nothing to the Great Arayik. No, my unstoppable groans only spur him on, as if it personally offends him that not everyone is as mighty as he is.
He doesn’t hesitate or pull back as he charges with another attack, a low sweep meant to surprise me. I barely manage to step back, adjusting my grip on the staff before swinging toward his exposed side.
An effortless dodge, almost lazy. As if my best performance is barely worth acknowledging.
I try again, aiming for his knee this time, putting more force behind the swing. The second attempt isn’t much better than the first. He shifts his weight, and my staff connects with nothing but air.
Then he moves—a blur of violence promising endless pain.
Something strikes my legs and I slam into the ground, the impact forcing me to cough-wheeze, if that’s even possible. Pain explodes through my back, the training mat doing little to cushion the fall. Is that blood I taste?
It doesn’t matter, Arayik continues.
He looms above me, pressing the tip of his weapon against my sternum with just enough pressure to communicate the message: if this were real, I’d be dead. “Again.”
I grit my teeth, rolling onto my side and shoving myself to stand despite the protest of every muscle. I will not let him break me. I’ve spent decades restricted to a single house, surviving the suffocating weight of confinement and fear. This man—this Enforcer of the system that imprisoned me—will notbe the one to make me yield.
Fuck him for hating me this much when I’ve done nothing but try.
I raise the staff andcharge.
This time, I’mfaster. This time, I anticipate his block and shift at the last second, changing the angle of my attack from his torso to his legs. My staff cracks against his shin with a satisfying thud.
It’s not enough to take him down—I fear I’ll never be strong enough for such a feat—but it’s enough to cause him pause. A small victory…the first real one I’ve had against him.
His expression remains emotionless, but something in his stance changes. His weight shifts minutely as his grip on the staff adjusts. He’swatchingme now, not just waiting to take me down. I’ve become something worth paying attention to.
That’s both encouraging and terrifying.
He ambushes from an unexpected angle; not direct, but a feint that draws my defense to the left before the real strike comes from the right. I’m too slow to adjust, and the staff blows into my side. My body is airborne for a sickening moment before plunging against the mat once more.
When I land, I know I’m not getting up so fast. The pain is immediate and consuming, radiating from my ribs outward in waves that make my vision swim. Something might be cracked. I don’t believe it’s broken as I can still breathe without the sharp agony that would indicate a fracture, but it’s certainly damaged enough to slow me.
The Commander exhales sharply through his nose, the sound distorted by his mask. “Pathetic.” His favorite word.
I force myself onto my elbows, chest heaving as I try to regain control of my breathing, but I don’t respond. What could I possibly say? He’s right yet again.
A shadow falls over me, the scrape of calloused skin grating my mask. My blood freezes. He’s going to rip it off right here, giving everyone a front row seat to my impending execution.
Fingers twitch against the seam, testing almost. Is he waiting for me to react and this is just a test?
It doesn’t matter…My breath spikes, the world shrinking to that single pressure on the strap. If he pulls, it’s over?—
Elias interjects from where he’s been watching, head tilted. “You’ve improved,” he notes, his tone neutral but not unkind.
The Commander’s hand stills, hovering at the chin of my mask before falling away. He snorts, a dismissive response. “Not enough.”
Kellen finally speaks, his posture more relaxed than the other two but his attention no less focused. “Then make him better.”
Have the stars fallen, or am I hallucinating?
Two of my leaders are standing up for me against theirs. I…don’t know what to think about that.
The words hang in the air between them—a challenge from subordinate to superior, but delivered in a way that doesn’t directly contest Arayik’s authority. The subtle politics between the three fascinates me—how they navigate each other’s territories without open conflict. It’s clear they’re friends outside official capacity, but they never question one another out in the open like this.
Arayik’s neck flexes as he faces me; my eyes flicking up to maintain contact with his. The darkness behind his irises slithers inside my nerves.
