Seraphina
The first week of real training nearly killed me.
By the third day, my legs shook so badly I could barely stand. My arms ached from sword work, my back screamed from carrying full packs during marching drills, and my lungs burned with each gasping breath.
"Move faster, you lazy dogs!" Master Aldwin's voice cracked like a whip across the training yard. "The enemy won't wait for you to catch your breath!"
Sweat poured into my eyes, blinding me as I struggled to keep pace with the formation drills. Around me, other cadets stumbled and cursed, but somehow they all seemed stronger than I was. Bigger. More built for this brutal life.
The binding around my chest felt like iron bands, making each breath a struggle. But I couldn't loosen it, couldn't give myself away. Not when Talon's amber eyes tracked my every movement, looking for any sign of weakness.
"Weapon training!" Master Aldwin barked. "Partner drills! Work on your defensive combinations!"
I grabbed a practice sword from the rack, my palms slick with sweat and exhaustion. The leather grip felt strange in my hands, not like the smooth, familiar weight of my real blade hidden in my room.
"Seth!" Elias called out, already facing another cadet. "You're with Marcus!"
Marcus was a thick-built boy from the eastern provinces, all muscle and good nature. He grinned as we squared off, his wooden sword cutting lazy patterns in the air.
"Ready, Seth? Try not to embarrass me too badly."
I raised my guard, but my arms felt like lead. The week of constant training had drained every ounce of strength from my body. When Marcus attacked, a simple overhead strike, I barely managed to get my sword up to block.
The impact jarred through my exhausted muscles. My grip slipped. The practice blade's rough edge caught the soft skin of my palm and tore it open. Pain shot up my arm like lightning. Blood welled from the gash, bright red against my pale skin.
"Seth!" Marcus lowered his weapon immediately. "You're bleeding!"
"It's nothing," I said quickly, pressing my other hand over the wound. "Just a scratch."
But blood seeped between my fingers, dripping onto the training ground stones. Around us, other cadets stopped their drills to stare.
"You should see the healer," Marcus said, concern clear in his voice.
"I'm fine." I grabbed a piece of cloth from my belt and wrapped it roughly around my palm. "Really. Let's keep going."
The last thing I needed was more attention. More people examining me, asking questions, noticing things that didn't add up. Marcus looked uncertain, but when I raised my sword again, he reluctantly resumed his guard.
The rest of the session was agony. Blood soaked through my makeshift bandage, making my grip slippery and uncertain. But I gritted my teeth and pushed through, ignoring the pain that shot up my arm with each clash of blades.
"Time!" Master Aldwin finally called.
I stumbled toward the weapon racks, my injured hand throbbing with each heartbeat. The crude bandage was completely red now, blood starting to drip again.
"Seth." Kieran appeared beside me as I returned my practice sword. His pale eyes took in the bloodied cloth around my palm. "You're hurt."
"Just a small cut," I lied, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.
He caught my wrist gently, turning my hand to examine the bandage. Even that light touch sent fire racing through my nerves.
"This needs proper attention," he said quietly. "Come on."
"No." I pulled my hand back, perhaps too quickly. "I said it's fine."
Kieran's eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could argue, Master Aldwin's voice boomed across the yard.
"Ten-mile run! Full pack! Anyone who falls behind scrubs the latrines for a week!"
My stomach sank. Ten miles. With a bleeding hand and exhaustion already weighing down my limbs like chains.
But I had no choice. I shouldered my pack with the rest of the cadets and fell into formation as we jogged toward the Academy gates.
The first mile wasn't too bad. Adrenaline helped mask the pain in my hand and the burning in my legs. But by the third mile, black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
By the fifth mile, I was running on pure stubborn will.
The pack felt like it was full of stones. Each footfall sent shockwaves up my legs. My injured hand throbbed in time with my heartbeat, and the bandage was completely soaked through now.
"You okay?" Elias asked, keeping pace beside me. His golden hair was dark with sweat, but he still looked annoyingly energetic.
"Perfect," I gasped.
But I wasn't perfect. I was drowning in exhaustion, my body pushed far beyond its limits. When we finally reached the halfway point and turned back toward the Academy, my vision started to blur.
At the eight-mile mark, my stomach rebelled.
I stumbled away from the formation and barely made it behind the old supply barracks before everything came up. My body heaved violently, bringing up what little breakfast I'd managed to choke down.
Strong hands caught my shoulders as I swayed, keeping me upright.
"Easy there."
I looked up through watering eyes to see a cadet I didn't recognize, older than most of us, with dark hair and steady brown eyes. He had the quiet presence of someone who noticed things but didn't feel the need to announce it.
"I'm fine," I wheezed, wiping my mouth with my uninjured hand.
"Sure you are." He handed me a water skin without ceremony. "Drink slowly. Small sips."
The water was cool and clean, washing the bitter taste from my mouth. I took a few careful swallows, my stomach settling slightly.
"Thanks," I said. "I'm Seth."
"Ronan." He studied my face with those calm brown eyes. "This your first time pushing past your limits?"
"Something like that."
"Gets easier," he said simply. "Your body learns. But you need to listen to it too. Injury yourself badly enough, and you're out. Then what good are you to anyone?"
There was something in his tone, not judgment, but understanding. Like he'd seen others struggle with secrets that went deeper than simple weakness.
"Better catch up," he said, nodding toward the distant line of runners. "Before Master Aldwin notices you're missing."
"Right. Thanks again."
"Don't mention it." He paused, then added quietly, "We all need help sometimes. No shame in accepting it when it's offered."
The way he said it made me wonder how much he'd guessed about my situation. But there was no time to puzzle it out. I forced my aching legs to move, jogging after the group with Ronan keeping pace beside me.
We made it back to the Academy just as the sun was setting. I collapsed onto my bunk, every muscle in my body screaming. My hand had stopped bleeding, but the wound still throbbed with each heartbeat.
Dinner was torture. The dining hall spun slightly around me as I tried to eat, my exhausted body craving fuel but my stomach still rebellious. I picked at bread and broth, forcing down what I could.
"You look terrible," Elias observed cheerfully. "Like something a cat dragged in and decided wasn't worth eating."
"Thanks," I muttered. "You really know how to flatter a person."
"Just being honest." He grinned. "Don't worry, little bird. Another week and you'll be keeping up with the rest of us."
Another week. I wasn't sure I'd survive another day.
"Some people," a familiar voice said from the next table, pitched just loud enough to carry, "just aren't built for this life."
I looked up to see Talon watching me with those calculating amber eyes. He was talking to his usual crowd of followers, but his words were clearly meant for me.
"Fragile wolves who don't belong here," he continued, cutting his meat with precise movements. "They think they can fake their way through, but eventually the truth comes out."
Heat flooded my cheeks. Fragile wolves. The insult stung because it was too close to the truth.
At the high table, I saw Kieran's jaw tighten. His knuckles went white around his eating knife, but he said nothing. Just stared at Talon with those pale, dangerous eyes. The tension in the hall grew thick enough to cut. Other cadets sensed it too, conversations dying as heads turned between the three of us.
Finally, Talon smiled that perfect, cold smile and went back to his dinner. The moment passed, but the threat lingered in the air like smoke.
"Ignore him," Elias said quietly. "Talon's just angry because you made him look bad in front of everyone."
But I could feel the golden boy's eyes on me for the rest of the meal. Watching. Planning. Waiting for me to give him the ammunition he needed. Later that night, I lay in my narrow bunk, listening to the sounds of the Academy settling into sleep. Kieran was at another of his strategy meetings, so I was alone with my aching body and churning thoughts.
Outside our window, I could hear the night guards making their rounds. Footsteps on stone, the occasional murmur of conversation, the distant clatter of weapons. It was during one of these quiet moments that I heard voices drifting up from the corridor below. Two cadets, speaking in hushed tones.
"I'm telling you, I saw it with my own eyes," the first voice said.
"Saw what?" his companion asked.
"That new boy, Seth. He was being followed."
My blood turned to ice.
"Followed by who?"
"A man in a black cloak. Right near the Academy gates. The stranger was staying back, trying not to be seen, but he was definitely tracking Seth's movements."
"Maybe it was just coincidence.."
"No coincidence about it. The man knew exactly where he was going. Like he'd been watching for a while."
The voices faded as the cadets moved on, but I lay frozen in my bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Someone was watching me. Following me. And they were getting closer..