The palace feels different after the second trial. The stones seem colder and the corridors quieter. Each step reminds me of my sore muscles, aching ribs, and the sting of long, red cuts. The healer was clear that I can’t push myself too much yet.
“Start with light sparing,” she said. “No more than ten minutes at a time. Then rest.”
Torin refuses to work with me until the healer thinks I’m ready for full training again. So, until then, I’m stuck with Lioran and Asbel.
The training begins awkwardly. My sword feels heavier than usual, my movements sluggish from exhaustion. Lioran bounces around, flames flickering at his fingertips, teasing, trying to push me out of rhythm. I stumble, tripping over my own feet, and narrowly avoid a swipe of Lioran’s fire.
“Not bad!” he says cheerfully. “You onlyalmostburned your pants that time.”
I don’t respond. All I can focus on is trying to make my body cooperate with me.
Gritting my teeth, I force my tired arms to move faster, practicing the parries and lunges the healer allows. The rhythm gradually comes back to me. By the fifth round, sweat and blood mix along my side, but I’m moving with purpose again. Lioran laughs every time I land a clean strike, while Asbel offers dry, understated praise for small victories.
After an hour, we call it quits. My ribs scream in protest, but I feel the slow warmth of relief. I’m alive and strong enough to fight.
Dinner this evening is a welcome reprieve. We eat in a small dining room near the training yard, the sunlight fading to gold through the tall windows. They canceled the nightly dinners with Queen Zephyra without offering a reason, which only serves to make me worry about Serenya more.
“Well, you survived the day,” Lioran says between bites. “...Barely.”
“And you acted like a firework on a leash,” Asbel adds. “At least Koen didn’t burn everything he touched.”
To my surprise, I smile, the first real smile in days. I didn’t give Asbell and Lioran a chance before. I thought it would just be better to distance myself while I was here. But they have been nothing but helpful since I found them in the trial. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have made it back to the portal. I probably wouldn’t even be alive.
After dinner, I’m finally able to return to my chambersfor the first time since I woke up after the trial. My body is giving out on me, and my mind is swirling with half-formed thoughts of the forest fight, the mawless, and, of course, Serenya. The feeling in my chest is different now. It isn’t just pain. It is the weight of knowing that even though I survived, I still need to become stronger for what is coming.
I sit on the edge of the bed, letting the candlelight flicker across the room. I allow myself one small indulgence of remembering her smile, the way it felt to hold her in my arms, and the steadiness she carries even in chaos.
Tomorrow I will train again, and the day after that. I will keep pushing myself further. Every step, every strike, every flicker of fire and wind thrown at me will bring me closer to the strength I need to fight and protect.
In the quiet dark, I make a silent vow that nothing will keep me from winning the final trial. Sleep comes quick, but with it comes more dreams of Serenya and more moments that feel like memories but can’t be.
------------? ? ? ? ?------------
Golden sunlight greets me as it streams across the field. Serenya’s laugh cuts through the warmth, bright and effortless, like it just belongs here.
She spins in a slow circle, arms raised to the sky, her hair catching the light. She stops, facing me with a smirk.
“See something you like, soldier?” she asks, winking.
My feet move toward her, though it’s not entirely by my will. It’s like someone else is pulling the strings.
Looking around in mock confusion, I say in that voicethat’s mine but not, “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
She gasps and closes the rest of the distance, shoving me playfully. “You’re terrible.”
Laughing, I scoop her up and toss her over my shoulder. Her laughter rings out like music as I run deeper into the field. I set her gently down in a patch of wildflowers, bracing myself above her, hands on either side of her head. I lean in and—
I wake with a start, heart hammering, her voice still echoing in my ears.
Gods, what are these dreams?
I drag a hand down my face. Two weeks have passed since the second trial ended, though it feels like a lifetime. Every night, I dream of her. Every morning, I wake up alone with a throbbing head and an aching heart.
The knock comes almost immediately. “Sun’s up,” Torin’s voice calls through the door. “The nurse has finally cleared you for full training. You’re with me again, and we are not wasting another minute of your time before the final trial.”
I groan, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I dress quickly and make my way to the door. When I open it, Torin is waiting, arms crossed, expression holding a mixture of patience and silent challenge.
“Ready?”
