The weight of the sword changed everything.
Gone were the wooden practice blades. Today, we were handed iron—real, dull-edged but heavy, unforgiving. Mine was slightly chipped near the guard and far too long for someone of my size. It dragged my arm downward as soon as I gripped the hilt.
"Welcome to soldier hood," Halvren grunted. "If it slips from your fingers, you'll wish it had taken them with it."
Some recruits looked nervous. Others, like Tessa, looked ready.
I wasn't ready. But I stepped forward anyway. We began drills in pairs, same as before.
I was paired again with Tessa, of course. She didn't look thrilled either, but there was something different in her stance today. She wasn't here to humiliate me again—at least not yet.
I held my sword in both hands, arms trembling slightly under the weight. My tail coiled on instinct for balance, the tip twitching in the dirt.
"Don't swing unless you mean it," she said under her breath. "I'm not pulling hits today."
I didn't reply.
Halvren barked. "Begin!"
The clash of steel rang through the training yard.
Tessa came at me fast. Not reckless, but forceful.
I barely managed to deflect the first strike. My blade vibrated like it might leap from my grip. My scales absorbed some of the shock, but it still burned through my arms.
She pressed forward.
I stumbled, planted my feet, swung back. It was a clumsy arc—too high, too slow—but she stepped into it, parried, and jabbed her pommel toward my gut.
I gasped. Air left my lungs. The world blurred. But I stayed upright.
"You're too light," she said, stepping back. "But you've got fight."
Later, while the others switched partners, I dropped beside Riken, who was shaking out his wrist like it had been dislocated.
"Is it supposed to feel like your bones are melting?" he asked.
"If you're lucky," I replied, still breathless.
He laughed, then froze as a tall robed figure appeared near the yard's edge—flanked by two armored assistants and holding a staff capped with copper rings.
We recognized him immediately.
Vaelen. The Empire's mage-instructor.
And behind him, glinting under the sun, was a stone pedestal holding a faintly cloudy crystal orb.
"All recruits, line up!" Halvren shouted.
Vaelen stepped forward. "Today, we test for magical resonance. Place your dominant hand on the orb. Do not speak. Do not try to manipulate it. We are looking for instinct, not performance."
He motioned to the first recruit.
Nothing.
The second—same.
Riken leaned toward me as we waited. "If it explodes, I want you to lie and tell people I died heroically."
"You'll die from nerves first."
"That's fair."
Riken was called before me.
He approached the orb, hesitating for a beat, then placed his hand flat on the surface.
For a moment, it stayed dull.
Then—
Faint light. Pale blue.
Like ripples across still water. Subtle, but present.
Vaelen's eyes narrowed. "Interesting. Mark him."
One assistant stepped forward and drew a looped rune onto Riken's forearm with dark ink.
Riken returned to the line blinking. "What does that mean?"
"You're not a mage," Vaelen replied. "But you're not empty."
My turn.
I stepped up. The orb looked like nothing—just glass and smoke. But I felt the way it pulled at me, like a pressure against my thoughts. Like it wanted something.
I placed my hand on the surface.
It turned warm.
The smoke inside stirred. Swirled.
Then—light. Dimmer than Riken's. More irregular. Like scattered reflections in deep water.
Still, enough.
Vaelen said nothing at first. Then:
"You're Aelarian. Yes?"
I nodded.
He made a note on his scroll. "You carry blood attuned to older currents. Your spark is... shaped differently. We will watch you."
He marked me, same as Riken. The rune drawn onto my wrist felt heavier than it should've.
Back in the barracks that night, Riken sat beside me, turning his arm over in the lantern light.
"So. Magic. You feel any different?"
"No," I said. "Just more confused."
He snorted. "Same."
Across the room, Tessa watched us.
Not with contempt. Not with interest either.
Just calculation.
I lay back on my cot and stared at the ceiling beams. My tail curled over my feet. My arms ached from training. The rune on my wrist tingled faintly.
We weren't mages.
Not yet.
But the Empire had noticed.
And once it did—it never stopped watching.
Liora. Marked. Measured. Still no name. But something might be made of me if I try.