The next morning began before dawn.
The old training grounds beyond the southern wing of the Black Rose Palace—long abandoned—were lit once more.
A low fire crackled within the hearth, its glow casting dancing shadows over training dummies, weapon racks, chalked magic circles, and the wide wooden floor scarred by time.
This Black Rose palace had once belonged to the legendary Empress Alexandria. Her name still echoed through the annals of war and strategy, spoken with reverence and fear alike. The training ground had been hers.
After her death, it had fallen into neglect. Forgotten. Buried beneath dust and silence.
Until now.
Astra stood at the center, wearing a simple blue training dress, comfortable and efficient.
Cassia yawned as she stumbled in with Gerald. Ella arrived next, alert and composed. Melinda, Lily, Lora, and Claire followed. Each wore plain but flexible clothing, gear fit for motion without drawing attention.
Astra's voice rang out, sharp and clear.
"Today, we train as one. You will rotate between three stations– weapon mastery, magic flow, and cooperative strategy." Her gaze shifted to Gerald. "Geran, you will handle close combat and weapons. You are a knight. You have experience."
"These girls come from different paths, but they must all learn to defend themselves first."
Lora blinked. "Us...?"
"Yes." Astra's tone was firm. "You are all talented. But talent is raw. It must be sharpened. And when you are completely cornered, you will need more than your specialty to survive."
"No one knows when the unexpected will strike. It is better to possess one skill too many than one too few."
Astra's gaze swept over them, sharp and unyielding.
"I'll be watching you all closely."
Gerald stepped forward, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.
"Alright. No slacking. I want one-on-one drills first. Let's go."
—
Hours passed.
Sweat soaked through fabric.
Breaths turned heavy.
Melinda crouched behind a dummy, calculating weak points and toxin absorption paths through fake wounds. Her eyes were analytical, coldly focused.
Cassia knelt beside a chalked rune circle, carefully redrawing ancient symbols with steady, meticulous strokes.
Just behind her, Claire read from the book and tried to follow along, but paused again and again—eyes flicking between the page and the ground, uncertain where to place the next line.
Lily focused intensely, trying to levitate three pebbles in synchronized rhythm, her mana flickering like scattered fireflies.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
Lora and Ella sparred relentlessly with Gerald, their dagger clashing again and again against his sword, sparks ringing out with each impact.
Astra watched it all, her gaze hawk-sharp. Then she clapped her hands once.
"Take a short break."
They sighed in relief and scattered immediately.
Ella walked over to Cassia and offered her a glass of water.
"You're doing great," she said. "That rune looked clearer than before."
Cassia smiled slightly. "I copied it from memory... it's getting easier."
Melinda flopped beside them, wiping sweat from her brow.
"I tested poison frosting on a biscuit this morning," she said casually. "Could pass as regular sugar."
Ella raised an eyebrow. "And… you tried it?"
"Of course," Melinda replied lightly. "I'm practically immune to most poisons."
Cassia stared at her. "You say that like it's normal..."
Melinda shrugged. "Normal is overrated."
They laughed softly, something warm and genuine threading between them.
From the side, Lora groaned.
"Gerald fights like a walking fortress. I need a strategy book just to get past his footwork."
Gerald called back without turning. "That's the point. Anticipate—don't just react."
Astra stepped forward again, her presence immediately commanding attention.
"You are here to sharpen your strengths—and to learn how they work together." Her eyes moved across them one by one.
"Lily, your magic is nimble, but too delicate under pressure."
"Melinna, your toxin knowledge is impressive, but your reliance on it makes you predictable."
"Cass, your mind is quick, but you are too slow with your hands."
"Lora, your potential is evident, but your focus is inconsistent."
"Enna, you are all fire, but you need to temper it."
"And Claire—" Her gaze softened slightly. "—you are focused, but you hesitate too much."
Claire flinched faintly, fingers tightening around her sleeve. "..."
"All in all," Astra concluded, "each of you has a long way to go."
They stood straighter, absorbing every word.
"Each of you holds a piece of the weapon I need," Astra said calmly. "When joined, you will not merely be a team."
Her eyes sharpened.
"You will be a storm."
Their breaths hitched.
"Rest," she ordered. "Tomorrow we go harder. Week by week, you will break and rebuild anew. I will accept nothing less."
Their limbs trembled. Their muscles screamed.
Yet not one faltered.
They nodded.
Together.
And so began the fire forging the shadows of the princess.
They were Astra's guardians.
And They will not let her down.
...
Time passed.
Days bled into one another beneath the merciless sun.
On the surface, the Black Rose Palace remained a place of quiet elegance and whispered ridicule. But beneath it, in the forgotten grounds, it had become a crucible—heated, relentless, unforgiving.
From dawn to dusk, the six girls trained without mercy.
Muscles screamed. Bones ached. Spirits burned.
Astra's commands became their pulse. Gerald's strict drills became their rhythm.
Each day, they shed old fear and forged new strength.
The sun rose in blood-red hues over the east, draping its sharp warmth across the old training grounds now marked by trampled grass and scattered weapons.
The air was dry, crackling faintly with magic and muscle—a blend of dust, sweat, and steel.
From the moment the distant morning horn echoed through the corridors, the girls moved.
Weapons first.
Then footwork.
Then magic.
Then again.
And again.
There were no breaks save water and breath.
And even breath itself was learned—controlled, measured, and honed into an art beneath Gerald's unyielding gaze.
Gerald's voice cut through the morning air like steel.
"Move your weight to the back leg before you twist—yes, just like that!" He grabbed Lily's wrist, adjusting her posture with forceful precision.
"You've got fire magic," he said. "Use it. Stop holding back like it's made of glass."
Lily gritted her teeth, the small dagger trembling slightly in her hand.
"I'm not holding back," she said, voice filled with frustration.
"Then show me," Gerald replied coldly, stepping back with crossed arms.
She inhaled sharply, focused and with a swift flick of her wrist, she threw the knife.
Flames ignited along its blade, streaking toward the training dummy.
The fiery knife struck true, engulfing the dummy in blazing embers before it toppled over. The movement was raw, unrefined, but undeniably powerful.
Gerald smirked, approving. "Good. Keep it up."
...
Nearby, Cassia sat cross-legged before a black rune-stone, her fingers trembling, dusted in chalk. Sweat beaded along her brow as she traced the rune lines for the fifth—no, sixth time.
A flicker of light sparked… then hissed out uselessly.
"Ugh! Why won't it work?" she groaned, dragging a hand down her face.
From behind her, Astra's voice cut through, calm yet firm.
"Less force. More intent. Magic responds to precision, not rage."
Cassia glanced over her shoulder, exasperation clear. "Easy for you to say, Your Highness. You make it sound effortless."
Astra approached. Her gaze settled on the half-formed rune, then back at Cassia.
"I never said it was easy," she replied. "Magic doesn't yield to anger. It yields to will."
She placed a steadying hand on Cassia's shoulder, her touch grounding.
"And you… you have more of that than you realize."
Cassia felt a rush of emotion, overwhelmed by Astra's unwavering belief in her.
Then Astra straightened, her voice cutting through without a trace of mercy.
"Now—again."
Cassia, "..." Not fair… I demand the return of my soft, squishy, adorable little Princess.
—