I swallowed, feeling the familiar tightening in my chest as he let the words hang for a moment. Without another glance at me, he turned and strode away from the room, boots striking the floor with authority. The door closed behind him, leaving only the faint echo of his presence.
I exhaled slowly, shoulders loosening ever so slightly, but the pulse in my veins still thrummed with adrenaline.
“Thanks Ashley,” I nodded towards her. She simply waved me off with her hand, like it was nothing, but she had stood up for me and that was something I wouldn’t forget any time soon.
Only now was I able to take in the sight of the space.
The barracks were cramped, rows of low cots pressed shoulder to shoulder, each with a small locker at the foot. The walls were bare, gray stone, scuffed and streaked from years of boots and elbows. There were a few personal touches decorating the space— threadbare blankets, worn photographs pinned above beds, toothbrushes, some personal clothing besides our leathers. The smell of sweat and iron hung faintly in the air, and the chatter of the recruits felt louder than it should have in the low-ceilinged room once more.
“You okay?” Lionel’s voice broke the tension. He stepped closer, weaving between the tightly packed rows of cots, eyes calm, scanning the room for any lingering threat before settling on me. “He’s gone for now.”
I sank onto my bunk, placing my apple beside me. The thin mattress sagged under my weight, springs creaking faintly. “Yeah… I think so,” I admitted, though my fingers still twitched, remembering how easily Malakai could dominate the space.
Lionel perched on the edge of the bunk opposite me, the wood cold beneath him, eyes soft but steady. “You handled that well. He likes to see fear,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen it before. You didn’t give him any.”
I gave a small, ironic laugh. “I was terrified,” I whispered, voice low. “Every nerve in me was screaming. I hate confrontations.”
“And you still stood your ground,” he said, almost smiling. “That’s… impressive. As always.”
I met his gaze, and for the first time in hours, the tension in my chest eased. Lionel’s presence was grounding, a reminder of years spent side by side, watching each other grow, fighting battles together. “Thanks,” I murmured.
He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes.
“You know,” he said, pausing as if thinking hard, “if you keep surviving all of the Lieutenant’s theatrics, we should probably start calling you the Fearless One… or, uh… maybe ‘the person who makes everyone look bad.’”
I blinked at him, then snorted, despite myself.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, shaking my head, but smiled easily at him.
“Hey,” he said, grinning, “I’m serious. You should get a medal… or at least a cookie. Maybe both.”
I let out a small laugh, the first real one in hours, and felt reassured to get through this, with Lionel at my side.
There were plenty of training grounds around the base.
There was an indoor area—a large room, both in width and height. Hidden inside a backroom, masses of equipment were stashed, which could be used to build an obstacle course if needed. Most of the practice inside was for individual training; punching a heavy bag, running, lifting weights, climbing, the list went on.
We began our daily routine there, I had idled enough in that cell and was getting restless anyway. Ashley began with running, she was fast and her reaction speed was amazing.
“You look like you want to punch something,” Lionel noted, studying me. He wasn’t wrong, I felt like I had some steam to blow. Lionel helped me prepare, placing bandages over my knuckles to prevent me from damaging my hands.
“Normally, I’d taunt you or offer some bad jokes to make you angry, but it seems you’re good to go?” Lionel flashed a smile, leaning towards the wall beside me. I gave him a quick glance, before I readied myself and smashed my fist into the heavy bag.
“Oh come on, it will all be forgotten soon enough.”
“Yeah?” I snapped. “That I killed a squadmate on the first mission, or that I was put in a cell by the Lieutenant himself? Either is kind of hard to forget.” I gave the sack a couple of hits, before swinging a kick into the rotation.
“She was a mage,” his voice was firm, like he was trying to persuade me. “No one is thinking that you killed her in cold blood.”
“See, that’s the problem.” I clenched my teeth. “Ididn’tkill her.” And why hadn’t I? She was a mage, the very thing our organization hunted, the beings we had to defeat in order to not let any more demons into our world. Or at least that was what had been decided, and for a split second, I questioned it. Why weren’t we able to team up with the mages against the demons? Stupid moment to freeze up like that, if it hadn’t been for Malakai… she might’ve killed me instead. I focused all the power I had in my right hand against the bag, and at impact something burned against my skin.
“Shit,” I hissed, trying to shrug it off. Glancing at my hand, there was no visible wound, but I was sure it had felt like a cut or a slight burn.
“Look,” Lionel cut through. “In their eyes, you were able to do exactly what was expected of you. What’s wrong with that?”
“That I didn’t get my cookie,” I muttered, giving him a teasing stare.
He burst into laughter. “Yeah, I promised you one, didn’t I? Alright, beat me in a sparring round and I’ll bake it myself.” He flashed a daring smile and I snorted at him.
