He gives a single nod. “Yes.”
We turn into a wider corridor, passing high windows that overlook the eastern yard. A squad of trainees is already outside, running drills in tight formation. The clang of metal and the crackle of elemental strikes echo faintly through the glass.
“Captain of what?” I ask.
“He oversees combat readiness and rotation schedules,” Thane says. “He also approves all elite unit placements. He’ll want to evaluate you himself in the future.”
More assessments. More eyes on me.
I sigh softly.
We pass beneath an arch marked with the elemental sigils—Fire, Earth, Water, Air—each one etched into stone and inlaidwith gold that’s dulled over time.
Eventually, the walls shift—more polished now. Fewer torches, more cleanly humming magelights.
The command wing.
Thane stops in front of a tall wooden door reinforced with black iron bands. A brass nameplate is mounted at its center: Captain Elaris.
He glances at me. “Don’t try to impress him. Just be honest. He’s Water Clan—calm on the surface, razor underneath. Doesn’t waste words.”
Then he knocks twice, sharp and clear.
“Enter,” a voice from within commands after a beat.
Thane opens the door and steps aside, letting me go first.
The office is clean and spare, built for utility. A large desk anchors the room, covered in neatly stacked documents, maps, and a few carved stone tablets inscribed with elemental glyphs. Morning light filters through the single window behind him, catching faint motes of dust in the air.
Captain Elaris sits behind the desk. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and short-cropped black hair. His hazel eyes meet mine the moment I enter—sharp, already scrutinizing.
Water Clan. I can see it now. Calm exterior. Storm underneath.
Thane closes the door behind us, and the sound feels heavier than it should.
Captain Elaris immediately stands, posture snapping into crisp attention.
“Warlord,” he says with a respectful nod.
“Good morning, Captain,” Thane replies. “At ease.”
Elaris doesn’t sit, but he relaxes slightly—his shoulders easing, hands dropping to rest loosely at his sides. He clearly takes his job seriously.
“I wanted to introduce you to Amara Thalor,” Thane says, then nods toward me. “The Spiritborn.”
I straighten, Elaris’s gaze locking on with full attention. I can feel him weighing me, measuring what I am against what I might become.
“Good morning, Captain,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
He holds my gaze another second, then inclines his head. “Thalor.”
Thane steps forward, commanding the space with that simple action. “She’ll be training here with the others, but her path won’t follow standard progression. Her role in this war demands more. I’ll be overseeing her training personally. Alongside Valen.”
At that, Elaris’s expression shifts—just slightly. A flicker of recognition, maybe respect. Valen’s name carries weight.
“She won’t be on regular rotation yet,” Thane finishes. “When she’s ready, she’ll join the others. Until then, she’s under our direction.”
Elaris nods once. “Understood.”
