Ashes of the FutureChapter 11 – Between the Blades
Rain pattered steadily over Polis, washing the blood and dust from the stone streets like a slow baptism. The city breathed in low murmurs—soldiers shifting in armor, whispers flitting between merchant stalls, and the distant clatter of metal against metal in the training yards. Inside the central tower, the storm's rhythm faded to a distant heartbeat against thick walls of earth and iron.
Kira stood before a set of carved wooden doors, her posture straight, but her fingers twitching with a restless energy. She'd been summoned, though Lexa hadn't said why. That usually meant something important. Or personal. And with Lexa, those lines blurred more often now.
The guards let her in with a quiet nod.
Lexa stood near the window, back lit by the gray morning. She didn't turn right away. Instead, she spoke lowly.
"Polis is uneasy."
Kira took a few steps in. "Because of Azgeda?"
"Because of you."
Kira raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Me?"
Now Lexa turned. Her green eyes were cool and unreadable, but her voice held an edge of something more intimate.
"Some call you a warrior. Others, a threat."
Kira snorted. "Nothing new there."
"And you don't care what they think?"
"I care about what matters. Like people not dying."
Lexa studied her in silence for a moment, then nodded. "You did well in the pass. The scouts confirmed Azgeda has pulled back. For now."
Kira folded her arms. "I sense a 'but' coming."
Lexa stepped forward. "Your presence changes the balance. For better or worse, you're now a factor in every decision I make. That has consequences."
Kira tilted her head. "Are you warning me or blaming me?"
"Neither," Lexa said. "I'm informing you. Because I trust you."
That gave Kira pause.
The room fell into a silence that buzzed with unspoken meaning.
Finally, Kira nodded. "Then I guess I need to figure out what kind of consequence I want to be."
Lexa allowed herself a rare smile. "Come. There is something you need to see."
They walked through Polis in silence, accompanied by only one guard. The city bowed respectfully to Lexa and offered curious glances to Kira. She walked with her hands relaxed but near her knives. The air was heavy with the scent of wet stone and distant smoke.
They reached the training yard, a wide open space littered with sparring dummies, weapon racks, and half a dozen warriors in various drills. Lexa led her toward a raised platform where two fighters circled each other.
"Watch closely," Lexa said.
The duel was fast. Brutal. One fighter—a broad-shouldered woman in Trikru colors—moved like a landslide. Her opponent, lithe and masked, danced like fire. Blades clashed, sparks flew, and when it ended, the masked figure stood victorious.
Lexa turned to Kira. "I want you to train with them."
Kira frowned. "Why?"
"Because you're skilled. But you rely too much on instinct. You need to adapt to our style, our flow. It will help you survive."
The masked fighter approached, removing their face covering. Underneath was a woman in her thirties, sharp-eyed and scarred across one cheek.
"This is Vaeda. One of our best."
Vaeda sized Kira up with a cool nod. "You look fast. Let's see if you can think just as quick."
Kira smirked. "Lead the way."
Training began at dusk.
Vaeda was relentless.
Kira learned quickly that Trikru fighting wasn't just about brute force or speed. It was rhythm. The land itself seemed to inform their stances. Footwork grounded like roots, strikes swift like wind through branches. Vaeda was a master of using the terrain—loose gravel, uneven ground, the curve of a slope.
They fought with wooden blades first. Kira got knocked on her back twice in the first ten minutes.
"Stop watching your weapon," Vaeda chided. "Watch mine."
"Easy for you to say. Your arm isn't numb."
Vaeda grinned. "You're quick with your hands. Learn to be quicker with your head."
The next round lasted longer. Kira began to read the shifts in Vaeda's shoulders, the way she telegraphed intent through the smallest movements. It reminded her of sparring against machines—predictable if you had the right algorithm. But Vaeda was no machine. She adapted. She played dirty. And she laughed while doing it.
By the end, they were both breathless and bruised.
Vaeda clapped her on the back. "You'll do."
Lexa had watched the whole time from the edge, silent and unmoving.
When Kira approached her, she offered a water skin.
"You're learning."
"Always," Kira replied, wiping sweat from her brow.
Their eyes met for a long moment. Again, that hum of something just beneath the surface.
"Tomorrow," Lexa said, voice softer now. "You'll accompany me to a council session. I want you to see the politics behind the blades."
Kira raised an eyebrow. "I'm not exactly diplomatic."
"I don't need you to be. I need you to see how this world truly works."
Kira nodded. "Alright. But if anyone throws something at me, I'm throwing it back."
Lexa actually laughed, a low and genuine sound.
And for a moment, the weight of war and leadership and futures not yet written felt distant.
That night, Kira sat outside her tent, staring up at the stars that didn't twinkle quite the same way they had back home. Beside her lay her pack, a single hand resting on its surface. Inside, the inventory hummed quietly, full of reminders from a world that now felt like a half-remembered dream.
She thought about Vaeda's strikes, about Lexa's laughter, about the council meeting tomorrow. Every day, the pull toward this world grew stronger.
She didn't know yet if she was meant to stay.
But she was starting to hope she could.
End of Chapter 11
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