“Block!” he’d shout. “Don’t just react—anticipate. Read my body, not my blade.”
I’d dodge, roll, come up swinging with the practice sword. He’d deflect, then counter. I’d barely parry in time.
“Better,” he’d say. “Not good enough. They won’t hold back in the trial. Neither can you.”
Then Dante would take over. His style was different—aggressive, chaotic. He wielded his axe like part of his body, striking from angles that shouldn’t exist.
“Vicious!” he’d roar. “You need to be vicious! This isn’t a friendly duel—it’s survival!”
He’d demonstrate, nearly taking my head off. I’d drop flat, feeling the axe’s wind overhead.
“Good instinct,” he’d admit grudgingly. “But you’re thinking too much. Let your body move. Trust your gut feelings.”
Orren watched from the sidelines in his hellhound form, three heads tracking my every move while Dante listed my shortcomings.
“Left side weak!”
“Footwork sloppy! You’ll trip on uneven ground!”
“Watch your breathing! You’re gasping after three minutes!”
They drilled me on strategy. Positioning. How to use the arena’s layout to my advantage.
“The center is within the academy’s wards,” Nero explained, sketching a map in the dirt with his shadow blade. “But half the spectator seats lie outside, where the gods sit and watch. The decree demands they not enter the academy grounds.”
“But will they follow the rules?” I’d asked.
His expression darkened. “They’ll break any rule for their own ends. That’s what you must watch for.”
They prepared me from every angle. They taught me to fight multiple opponents at once, to listen for attacks I couldn’t see. They drilled me until my muscles screamed and sweat stung my eyes.
“Watch out only for yourself,” Nero repeated like a mantra. “Your survival is all that matters. Don’t try to save anyone else.”
“You need to be merciless!” Dante would echo.
I remembered this training from before. Long ago, when I was Persephone.
Hades had trained me then. He taught me to fight because his realm was deadly, because his enemies were elite gods, because he couldn’t always be there to shield me.
I didn’t exactly need their training anymore. My power had returned. My memories were nearly whole. I could weave fate itself if I chose. But I humored them. Let Nero and Dante believe they were preparing me.
When there was no training, Nero guarded me himself. He fucked me every chance he could get, and I gave him every ounce of my passion. I gave him everything except my secrets. I locked them away.
Every minute, I felt his hope—a tangible thing, waiting for some sign of remembrance, praying I’d rediscover who I was and what he was to me.
It pained me. But I never caved.
And soon, I’d have to crush not only his hope but his heart.
Again.
I turned my attention back to Sindy. Around us, the dining hall’s noise swelled; giggles, chats, the clatter of silverware.
Beneath the din, gossip about me spread through every table. With my returned power, I didn’t need to strain to hear it. Enhanced senses were just one of the many changes I concealed.
I kept my secrets from Sindy, too. She hadn’t demanded to know where I’d gone, but she showed her concern in the careful way she watched me. It made me respect her more.
“I heard Ravencrux is fucking her every night…”
