Caelan, Lyra, and Mynxi moved through the forest together, branches whispering overhead as the late–morning light broke in soft patches across the path.

  Mynxi skipped lazy circles around them, humming to herself, tail flicking at stray leaves and low branches. Lyra walked a step ahead, posture stiff, her usual precision fraying at the edges. She kept glancing back like the trees themselves were judging her for being late.

  “Can we go a little faster, please?” Lyra blurted at last, turning fully to face Caelan while walking backwards. “We’re so late. I don’t want Solara to think I’m taking this lightly.”

  Caelan strolled along with his hands in his pockets, the very picture of not having a single urgent thought in his head.

  “Lyra,” he said, “you’ve spent six months training. What’s the one thing I say over and over again?”

  “I know, I know,” Lyra said, voice tightening. “But we’re two hours late. What if she thinks I don’t—”

  “Lyra?” Caelan said gently.

  She let out a breath and slowed her steps until she’d fallen into pace beside him, eyes on the ground.

  “The better the timing, the better the outcome,” she recited.

  Caelan stopped and rested his hands on her shoulders.

  “You’ll be great,” he said. “Oh—and one more thing. For the love of anything even vaguely in tune with all of us, someone is going to say something, and you’ll get distracted. Just follow what I taught you. Everything will go the way you want it to.”

  “Uncle Milo will be there,” Mynxi sang, still skipping loops around them. “So smile.”

  Lyra went bright red almost instantly.

  Caelan’s eyebrow climbed. “…huh?”

  Lyra covered her face with both hands. “Did he tell you? Please tell me he didn’t tell you. Oh goddess, he told you, didn’t he?”

  “Well, yeah,” Caelan said, still confused. “Who do you think he tells everything to? Not going to be our sister, is it?”

  Lyra threw her head back and screamed into the trees. “Such an idiot! What is wrong with me? I didn’t mean to not answer him but he just ran away so fast, I didn’t have time to process it—then I thought, ‘Oh yeah, get drunk, Lyra, you can answer him then, instead of being an awkward idiot,’ but no, for some reason he and Aidan didn’t come last night and I really want to tell him but ahhhhhhh. Please tell me no one else knows.”

  Caelan scratched his cheek. “Mm… I think it was just Mynxi. But I get it. Don’t worry. Get out there and do your best right now—when the fighting’s done, then we can worry about that stuff. Our little secret, right, Mynxi?”

  Mynxi gasped. “Can we do the finger thing with her, Dad?”

  “It’s called a pinkie promise, little one,” Caelan said. “And if you want to, it’s up to Lyra.”

  Mynxi spun toward Lyra, eyes huge, and held her pinkie out with all the solemnity in the world.

  Lyra’s shoulders eased. She knelt beside Mynxi and opened her arms, and Mynxi barreled straight into her—more bounce than hug. Lyra held her for a beat, steadying the little whirlwind before pulling back with a smile.

  “No, no,” Mynxi said, wriggling. “We need to do the finger thing, silly.”

  Lyra’s smile widened. “Can we do both?”

  Mynxi thought about this very seriously for a full second. “Ummm. Okay.”

  She locked her pinkie around Mynxi’s, and Mynxi grinned. “It’s a promise now. Dad and I do it all the time.”

  Lyra glanced up at Caelan. “Really?”

  Caelan sighed. “Please don’t tell anyone. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Lyra giggled and stood, then turned to him, holding her pinkie out with mock formality.

  Caelan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just this once.”

  They hooked fingers. Lyra tugged him straight into a hug.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’ll do my best to prove I was worth your time.”

  Caelan rested a hand lightly on her head. “Just be the best you that makes you happy. No matter what comes of it, you’ll—”

  A branch rustled.

  Elyria stepped out from between the trees.

  She froze.

  Mynxi instantly broke away and started waving so hard she nearly tipped herself over. “M–Ely—Ely!”

  Caelan gently eased Lyra back a step, hands lifting from her shoulders.

  Elyria scooped Mynxi up as the girl barreled into her, death–staring Caelan over the top of Mynxi’s head the entire time.

  Then, as if a switch flipped, she smiled at the girl in her arms. “How’s my beautiful little angel today?”

  “We got to train super duper long today!” Mynxi said, throwing punches in the air. “And Lyra was all—” She punctuated the sentence with a series of aggressive nonsense sound effects.

  “Oh wow,” Elyria said, then cut her eyes back to Caelan. “Maybe keep your head on the event instead of that third sword you cradle–snatcher.”

  She shifted her focus back to Mynxi, voice warm again. “Want to come with me and watch the Master Chief?”

  Mynxi’s tail fluffed in excitement. “Ohhh, is he beating the baddies? Can I see? Mynxi wants to see!”

  “Then we’d better hurry,” Elyria said, already turning away. She glanced back at Lyra, and her tone softened. “I hope you do great out there. We all can’t wait for you to ace this, Lyra.”

  Lyra managed a steady smile. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

  Elyria gave Caelan one last, razor–sharp glare. “Caelan.”

  Then she walked off with Mynxi in her arms.

  Lyra watched them go, then looked back at Caelan, who was scowling at the trees as if they’d personally offended him.

  “So what’s the deal with you two?” she asked.

  Caelan exhaled. “I don’t say your shit, you don’t say mine. Deal?” He turned and started walking again.

  Lyra stayed rooted to the spot. “Hey, let’s not joke about that. Please. Like—please, please.”

  He didn’t answer.

  She jogged after him, falling back into step just as the trees opened into a wide clearing.

  A rough circle had been carved into the dirt at its centre. Recruits ringed it in a wide, tense crowd. The air shuddered with the sound of Solara’s wooden sword cutting the air, her grunts and shouted commands punctuating every strike.

  She was in the circle, mid–swing, driving a terrified man backwards.

  Caelan and Lyra stepped into view just as she lunged.

  “Why are you late, Lyra?” Solara barked, not even glancing their way. “I am very disappointed right now. Captain, what are you playing at?”

  Caelan lifted a hand in lazy apology. “We got lost. It’s fine. Chill. We’re here now.”

  Lyra wilted a little.

  “Just wait,” Caelan murmured to her. “Something’s pissed her off. She’ll change her tune the second it starts.”

  “Knew she’d be mad,” Lyra muttered. “Great. Now she’s going to think I’m like you.”

  Caelan snorted—and then his attention snagged on something behind Solara.

  Keira was tied upside down to a tree.

  One hand was free.

  That wasn’t what made him stop. It was the silence. Deafening, complete. Keira, for once… not making a single noise.

  “Yeah,” Caelan said slowly. “Let’s sit with the Master Sergeant. See how it’s been going.”

  “Please don’t—” Lyra started.

  “I don’t promise often,” Caelan said quietly. “But this? This is serious. Trust me a little. There’s a million things about me most of you don’t know.”

  They crossed to the tree and sat down beside Keira. She didn’t even react to them at first, mouth hanging slightly open as she stared, unblinking, at the ring.

  Solara screamed from the centre, “Fight me, you coward!”

  Caelan leaned his head back against the trunk. Lyra stayed standing, arms folded, eyes fixed on the fight.

  “First question: why?” Caelan asked. “Second: how long has this been going on?”

  Keira finally tore her gaze away long enough to blink at him. “Oh. Erm. She didn’t like that I spiked her drink and apparently almost ruined the surprise. And, well… I honestly don’t know what to say. This—this is incredible.”

  Caelan squinted toward the circle.

  The man inside was running for his life.

  “Please don’t kill me!” he yelled, tripping over his own feet as Solara bore down on him. “Please, I’ve got too much to live for, please!”

  “Stand and fight me!” Solara snarled.

  She brought her wooden sword down in a two–handed arc that left a small crater in the dirt.

  The man survived only because he’d fallen over his own heel at the last possible second.

  Solara yanked the sword free and swung again. He was already scrambling away, almost in tears.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he wailed.

  She went for his head.

  He slipped in the mud. The strike missed him by inches.

  Caelan’s jaw dropped slightly. “Seriously. How long has this been going on?”

  “Two,” Keira said.

  “He’s dodged everything for two minutes?” Caelan asked. “What the hell is he?”

  Keira swallowed a laugh. “Hours.”

  Caelan’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me… what, that he was the first one up or something?”

  “He stepped up first,” Keira said.

  They all watched as Solara unleashed another flurry of blows. The man dodged every single one of them, but nothing about it looked intentional. It was all slips, trips, panicked stumbles, and blind flailing.

  “Is this some sort of joke right now?” Caelan breathed. “Wait—is that the idiot who was playing cards with the Master Chief last night?”

  Lyra stared. “This can’t be real.”

  “Yep,” Keira said. “One and the same. Jett, or something dumb like that. Honestly, he has a deal with the universe or something. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Jett sprinted in a wobbling circle, tears streaming. “Why is no one helping me?!”

  Solara slammed her sword into the ground again. Jett curled up out of sheer animal terror—and the blow missed him again.

  Caelan’s eyes were round now. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Tell me about it,” Keira said. “I’ll be reminding her of this for years. Oh—did Elyria find you?”

  Caelan covered his face with one hand. “Don’t start. Yes. She found me.”

  “So we’re fully back into this season again,” Keira said. “Just tell her you’re sorry, as usual.”

  Caelan folded his arms, sulking. “I did nothing wrong this time.”

  “He really didn’t,” Lyra added quietly.

  “Sure you didn’t, big bro,” Keira said. “So, do you think she gets past him today, or does Solara give up first? Somehow he’s going to win without landing a single hit.”

  “Wait. He hasn’t landed a single blow?” Caelan asked.

  “No one has,” Keira said. “That’s what makes this so magical. Can we keep him? I need a reminder for the lieutenant that she’s not all that.”

  “Play nice,” Caelan said, pushing himself to his feet.

  He clapped his hands once.

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  A sharp shockwave rippled through the clearing, a mini sonic boom that snapped branches and sent a handful of recruits stumbling. Even Solara and Jett froze mid–movement.

  “Enough,” Caelan called. “Lieutenant, we’ve seen all we need to see—from Jett, is it?”

  Solara drove the wooden sword point-first into the dirt. The impact thudded through the clearing.

  “Yes, Captain,” she said through her teeth. Then, under her breath, just loud enough for the front row to hear: “I’ll break you later.”

  Jett lay on his back, chest heaving, eyes huge. The second Caelan spoke his name, he scrambled across the ground and latched onto Caelan’s jacket like a drowning man grabbing driftwood.

  “Thank you, thank you,” he babbled. “She was actually trying to kill me. How can you let a crazy person like her just walk around—”

  Caelan slapped a hand over his mouth.

  A vein twitched in Solara’s neck.

  “So, Captain,” she said, voice dangerously level, “are you done interrupting me, or can I actually get some work done today?”

  Caelan left Jett muffled in the dust and strode toward the ring.

  “As you can all see,” he said, raising his voice to address the crowd, “there’s always more than one way to approach this task. Now, out of fairness, I’m going to have to mess the Lieutenant’s plan up a little.” He jerked his chin toward Lyra. “That girl over there has been deeply involved in setting up this recruitment event. She’s been practically living at HQ with us for the last six months. She hasn’t taken part in Revolutionary Army operations, because she isn’t a member yet—just like the rest of you. So, in the interest of making this fair on everyone, she’s going next.”

  He looked straight at the recruits. “Pay very, very close attention. She might show you paths you haven’t considered yet.”

  Solara’s lips curled. “Your little pet project, hm? Let’s see what you’ve been cooking up for me, Captain. I’ve got a rather large appetite today.”

  “When do you not?” Caelan murmured.

  Her glare could have stripped paint. “Send her. Hurry up. I’ve got another fifty of these to do today.”

  Caelan stepped out of the circle—then paused.

  A thin, distant scream carried through the trees.

  Jett shot to his feet like someone had yanked a string. “Corwin! Don’t worry, your future captain’s on the way!” He bolted toward the sound, arms pinwheeling.

  Caelan watched him go, baffled. “Who the fuck is that guy…?” He shook himself. “Right. Lyra—you’re up. Get in here.”

  Lyra took a slow, deliberate breath and stepped forward.

  Before her boot hit the dirt of the circle, Keira called, “Try not to fall on your face again.”

  Lyra deflated. “It was one time.”

  From the centre of the ring, Solara stared her down, a sharp smile creeping across her face.

  Somewhere in the cluster of recruits, a voice muttered, “Yeah, I’m out. They’re all crazy. This is not what I signed up for.”

  “Come on, Lyra,” Solara called. “Thought you wanted to be one of us. Every single member has had to deal with this at some point.”

  She reached into her bag.

  Keira squinted. “What the shit are those?”

  Solara drew out a pair of brutal-looking knuckle dusters, metal gleaming. Each had a blade that curved along the outer edge of the fingers; one had a length of chain dangling from it, ending in a wicked little hook.

  Lyra sighed. “It was his idea, not mine. I wanted a sword like Solara. But, well…”

  “Captain?” Keira said.

  “Yeah,” Lyra admitted.

  He padded around to the edge of the ring and lay down on his side, propping himself up on one elbow like he was settling in to watch a play.

  “Oh, her face,” he muttered, grinning. “This is going to be priceless.”

  Lyra flexed her fingers in the weapons, letting the metal click together. “Not what I expected,” Solara said, eyes never leaving Lyra. “But I hope you understand—right here and now, you’re my friend. If you want to be one of us, I won’t just let you walk in if you’re not ready. Do I make myself clear?”

  Lyra stepped into the circle and bowed her head. “I understand, ma’am. Thank you for the opportunity. Please… give me your all.”

  Lyra closed her eyes and took one last steadying breath. The tension in her arms changed—tight, but focused, the way Caelan had drilled into her for months. Her grip on the knuckle dusters shifted into something cleaner, more deliberate.

  But right as her breathing evened out, her mind flicked—unhelpfully—backwards.

  Not to training.

  Not to strategy.

  But for the first time, she ever walked up to the Beech & Ember.

  She’d stood at the little gate, pacing like she was trying to wear trenches in the dirt. “Come on, Lyra, you’ve got this,” she muttered to herself. “Two days in this city and all anyone does is talk about them. They’re supposed to be the best. You can do this. You promised. Just ask. They can’t say no… right?”

  She puffed out her cheeks, spun once in place, and marched forward—only to immediately get distracted.

  “Is that… a swing? Why is there so much alcohol beside it? Is that a second fire pit? Oh, come on, focus—game face on.”

  She stomped up to the front door and knocked.

  It took a full minute before it swung open, revealing Caelan—half awake, hair a disaster, expression somewhere between bored and offended.

  “The fuck do you want at this time?” he asked flatly.

  Lyra leaned against the doorframe like she’d been planning this pose her entire life, inspecting her nails. “So. Heard a lot about you around the city. Some pretty okay stories. And I was considering starting a crew of my own—but I figured, hey, maybe I’ll throw you a bone. Once-in-a-lifetime deal. If you point me to the one they call ‘Captain’ and make it snappy, I’ll consider letting you answer to me.”

  Caelan stared at her.

  Then looked over his shoulder.

  “Joss, we’re gonna need to put a lock on that gate, bud.”

  Joss’s voice floated from deeper inside: “The fence is only two feet tall. What would be the point?”

  “Symbolism,” Caelan grumbled, then shut the door in Lyra’s face.

  She stood there, frozen, mouth hanging open. “Hello?”

  The next morning, she showed up again—this time vibrating with fury and determination. “Oh, they’ll learn,” she muttered. “They’ll all learn. Lieutenant lady? Your job? As good as mine.”

  She stood there for hours until at last Caelan, Elyria, and Mynxi emerged. Mynxi was bouncing circles around them.

  “Dad, can we try the boom thing again?” Mynxi chirped.

  Caelan ruffled her hair. “If you’re ready, little one.”

  Mynxi clapped. “Ely, do you think Mynxi will do it today?”

  Elyria smiled warmly at her. “Take it from me—you’ll do whatever you dream of. Even better than that silly dad of yours.”

  “Captain Dad is the best,” Mynxi declared.

  Elyria snorted. “Then why am I faster than him?”

  As Caelan laughed, “Like hell you are,” the three of them—him, Elyria, and Mynxi—walked right past Lyra.

  She pivoted, forcing confidence into her voice. “Oh, so you’re the captain. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot yesterday—still time to fix the biggest mistake of your life. Trust me, you’re going to regret it.”

  All three of them stopped just long enough to give her identical dead-eyed stares.

  A beat of silence.

  From Caelan’s shoulders, Mynxi pointed straight down at Lyra with a deeply offended expression and announced, very clearly, “Fuck.”

  “Hey!” Caelan snapped. “Little one. We talked about this. Remember? You promised Dad.”

  Mynxi sighed, swaying side to side. “Okay, Dad.”

  Elyria frowned. “Who’s this?”

  “No idea,” Caelan replied, already walking away again. “Thinks she’s selling carpets or something.”

  Lyra kept coming back.

  Day after day.

  Same speech, different swagger.

  And day after day, not one of them even looked her in the eyes as they walked past.

  Staying in the city this long wouldn’t have been possible if the kindly innkeeper next door hadn’t let her stay rent-free. She’d been sorely tempted to give up and throw herself at Aurex’s feet just for the stability of it. But one night—completely broke, exhausted, and down to the last thread of will—she pushed herself into the forest to hunt.

  Nine hours.

  Nine hours fighting one basic black wolf. She finally killed it as the sun began to bleed into the sky. No time to wash, no spare clothes, barely a handful of useless scrap bars clutched in her fists.

  She went straight to the Beech & Ember and slumped against the tiny fence, mumbling apologies to no one between quiet, miserable sobs.

  She didn’t even look up when footsteps approached.

  It was Caelan—alone for once, and unusually early.

  He almost passed her.

  Almost.

  He stopped with his hands in his pockets, still facing away.

  “What would this mean to you?” he asked quietly. “What would you want out of this?”

  Lyra kept her forehead pressed to her knees. “I need to keep my promise,” she whispered. “I don’t remember my parents—they died when I was little. It was just my gran and me. She wasn’t well, but she still worked herself raw to keep us afloat. Every night she made dinner and always gave me the bigger portion. I promised myself I’d work hard enough that she wouldn’t have to. But… life doesn’t care what we want. I couldn’t afford the school I wanted to attend. I tried, day and night. Nothing changed. So if I can make it through this— even as a follower—maybe I can give her the life she deserved.”

  Caelan said nothing.

  He walked away.

  Lyra eventually dragged herself back to her room in the inn next door, collapsed face-first onto the bed, and muttered into the sheets, “Way to go, Lyra. Cry your whole life out like an idiot. Not like he cares.”

  She was halfway to sleep when her door EXPLODED off its hinges.

  Keira marched in.

  “You know who I am?” she demanded.

  Lyra lurched upright, bowing frantically on the bed. “I’m sorry, Master Sergeant, I was just leaving. I’ll never bother you—”

  “Shut up,” Keira said. “The idiot woke me up for this because he doesn’t have my star power. Now hurry up and read.”

  She threw two envelopes at Lyra.

  Lyra blinked at them helplessly.

  “Start with the big one,” Keira said.

  Lyra opened it, stared at the poster inside, then panicked. “I—I don’t… I can’t…”

  “Spit it out,” Keira groaned. “I need to get back to bed.”

  “I can’t read,” Lyra whispered.

  Keira sighed, sat beside her, and snatched the paper. “Give it here. Blah blah blah—we’re holding a recruitment event in six months—blah blah blah—goddess, he writes like a wet sock.”

  She grabbed the second envelope and cracked it open. “Right. Dear Lyra, as Captain of the Revolutionary Army, I hereby request and invite you to the recruitment event with my personal recommendation to my Lieutenant—blah blah blah—you’ll work as an independent contractor for six months under the Lieutenant’s direction—blah blah blah—my idiot big brother. Right. Pack your shit.”

  Lyra pointed to her bag. “It’s all in there.”

  Keira eyed her outfit. “Got more clothes? Those things make his jacket look new.”

  Lyra shook her head.

  “Right,” Keira said. “Grab your bag. You’ll take the room next to mine. I’ve got clothes that’ll fit you.” She paused, rolled her eyes. “Even though I’m Lumi’s bestie—not even a discount, can you believe it? Oh—and one more thing. If you keep your mouth shut, come to my room a few hours before the monster hunts. I’ll teach you to read. Solara will be… let’s say, less gentle.”

  Lyra launched herself into a hug, crying openly.

  Keira grumbled, rolled her eyes—then hugged her back.

  Keira smirked and added, “Best bit is that idiot will stop spending his booze money on renting this place… sick of paying for his drinks.”

  Lyra pulled back, confused. “What? But… it was the inn…”

  “He’s weird like that,” Keira said with a shrug. “You’ll see.”

  Back in the ring, Solara slammed the wooden sword into the dirt and fixed Lyra with a razor-sharp stare.

  “Since you decided to be late with the captain, I’ll explain the rules again,” she said, voice cold and steady. “First: you come at me with everything you’ve got. No holding back. Second: you must last three minutes. If you land even a single touch on me after that time, you pass. Third: if you force me out of the ring, that’s an instant pass. But for you? If you leave the ring, get knocked out, can’t move, or can’t escape, then you fail. Do I make myself clear, Lyra?”

  Lyra’s eyes hardened, locked on Solara without a flicker.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Keira—still tied upside-down to a tree—shouted, “On go! Ready… steady… GO!”

  Solara didn’t move. She stood perfectly still in the centre of the circle.

  Lyra was already inside her guard before half the onlookers even registered the start—her fist whipping upward in a brutal right uppercut. Solara simply lets herself fall backwards, stabbing the wooden sword into the earth behind her, using it to pivot around as a wheel spoke. Her body swings, her foot snaps out—cracking toward Lyra’s ribs.

  Lyra absorbs it, rolling with the hit, already driving back in.

  Solara follows the momentum, ripping the sword from the ground and bringing it down toward Lyra’s skull. Lyra collapses low, guard rising, and her knuckle-duster blades screech against the wooden edge as they deflect in a spark of friction.

  Solara drifts around her like smoke—an arm blocks Lyra’s turning kick, a pivot, a twist, and the lieutenant plants her right foot, both hands gripping the sword as she brings it down in a full, sweeping arc.

  It should land clean.

  It doesn’t.

  Lyra rolls out just in time, breath hard, eyes burning. They stare at each other for half a heartbeat.

  From the tree, Keira groans, “Oh, please tell me you didn’t actually train her, Captain?”

  Caelan—still lying on his back at the edge of the ring, hands behind his head—says, “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  Lyra springs forward again, a storm of attacks—rapid, relentless, each strike aimed with precision. Solara deflects every hit, but the gap is slim, and the crowd feels it.

  Mid-exchange, Solara snaps, “Giving her some pointers, my ass! Captain, were you training her using my style?”

  From the ground, Caelan calls back, “Why does everyone assume it’s me?”

  Lyra, mid-combo, blurts, “I wanted to say ma’am but—this is the exact fight we had in training today—”

  Solara’s eyes flare. She sweeps Lyra’s legs clean out and punches her square in the stomach, sending her skidding across the ring.

  The recruits watching either gape in awe or quietly back away, reconsidering all their life choices.

  Keira sighs. “See? You’ve made it worse for her.”

  Caelan smirks. “Give it a minute.”

  Solara plants her feet on the opposite side of the ring, dust skidding beneath her boots as she squares her stance.

  Lyra, still on one knee near the edge of the circle, forces herself upright. She’s shaking, breath ragged, but her eyes never leave Solara — a razor line drawn straight across the space between them.

  Solara’s voice cuts across the clearing. “Right. She’s clearly past twenty. What about fifty?”

  Caelan, still lounging at the far edge with his hands behind his head, calls back, “Thirty per cent max. Let’s make it fair.”

  Lyra wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t hold back on my account. I’m going to earn my place among you — so no one ever questions me.”

  Solara’s gaze sharpens. “Fine. I’ll keep twenty for now. But I’m using that.”

  Caelan lifts his head. “Really? Thought we were saving that for a special situation.”

  “You cheat, Captain. I cheat,” Solara says, already lowering her blade. “Just following your lead.”

  She leans forward, every muscle coiled.

  “Ninety seconds left, Lyra,” she says, voice low and deadly calm. “Survive this, and you pass.”

  Lyra sets her feet, trembling but firm. “Bring it, ma’am.”

  Solara exhaled slowly, letting the wooden sword drop to her side as she centred herself. A breath in… a breath out… and then tiny, translucent panes shimmered into existence around her. Six of them, drifting in a slow orbit like ghostly shards of glass.

  She slid one foot back, lifted the sword to eye level, and went still.

  Keira—still upside-down on her tree—yelled, “Show-off! Divine preferential treatment bullshit, I swear!”

  Caelan chuckled. “Oh shut up, Master Sergeant. You get all day to flex tomorrow.”

  Keira grinned. “Just wait. Those flashy motherfuckers haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “Will you two be quiet?” Solara hissed, never taking her eyes off Lyra.

  Both replied instantly, defeated: “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

  Solara’s eyes opened.

  In the same instant, she vanished.

  She reappeared directly in front of Lyra, blade cutting downward in a perfect arc.

  Lyra roared, throwing her right fist up to intercept. Every ounce of her strength snapped into the strike—only for it to stop dead, the blade hovering just out of reach as if frozen in the air. Lyra’s arm trembled, unable to push an inch farther.

  I didn’t know she could do this… what is she using?

  The wooden sword slipped past her guard and speared into her shoulder. Pain shot white across her vision, but she rolled with it, hitting the ground and launching herself away, sprinting along the edge of the ring.

  “Running won’t help you,” Solara warned.

  Lyra didn’t look back. She just ran harder.

  A pane blinked into existence right in front of her. Lyra twisted away—just in time for another pane to clip her toe and send her tumbling. She shoved herself upright, breath ragged, and kept moving.

  Inside her head, a spark lit.

  Wait until I tell him I dodged these—

  “You’ll need to do better than that,” Solara sighed.

  Panes flickered into existence one after another, appearing inches from Lyra’s face, ankles, ribs—each one forcing her to duck, vault, twist, slide. She kept her distance, weaving between them in a frantic rhythm.

  Caelan, arms folded behind his head like he was sunbathing, called out lazily, “Told you, just keep that timing.”

  Lyra sprinted past him without looking. “She’s going to kill you!”

  Solara strode calmly behind her. “She’s right, Captain. I’m actually going to kill you.”

  Caelan winked. “Don’t you promise me a good time?”

  Keira yelled, “HA! Wait until I tell Elyria. Also—how come you weren’t in your room last night, Captain?”

  Both Caelan and Solara snapped in unison: “Shut up!”

  Solara’s head swung toward Keira—

  —and Lyra took that exact heartbeat to close the gap.

  She slammed her blade-duster into Solara’s arm. It landed clean.

  Solara didn’t flinch.

  Her head turned with slow, terrifying precision. “You’re going to need to do better than that.”

  All six panes snapped toward Lyra at once. Solara surged forward with them, sword cutting, panes striking, her movements a blur of controlled violence.

  Lyra ducked, slid, vaulted—her chain whipping out as she spun, catching the air with a metallic rattle.

  Solara grinned. “Maybe next time, Lyra. If he uses mine, then I’ll use his.”

  Her stance shifted.

  Her aura tightened.

  She whispered, “Death Thrust.”

  Lyra’s panic spiked—she stepped left, then vaulted off one of Solara’s own panes, using it as a foothold. She flipped upward, guarding with her left arm while chambering her right for a full-force punch straight toward Solara’s face.

  “Don’t get too confident,” Solara warned, meeting her midair.

  Lyra twisted her hips, driving her fist down—

  —and Solara’s wooden sword caught it an inch from her cheek.

  “Try again.”

  But then—rattle.

  A chain flashed past Solara’s ear.

  The right-hand duster was gone.

  Lyra yanked her left arm, the chain snapping taut.

  It looped around one of Solara’s floating panes.

  Solara’s eyes widened—too late.

  The knife from the flung duster grazed her cheek in a clean, sharp line.

  The panes swarmed instantly, hammering Lyra to the ground with a dozen shimmering impacts.

  The clearing fell silent.

  Lyra stayed curled, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for whatever punishment came next.

  Instead… a hand touched her head.

  Gentle. Warm.

  Lyra cracked one eye open.

  Solara was kneeling over her—sparkling eyes, soft smile, blood drying on her cheek.

  “Six months with those two,” Solara murmured. “Not surprised. Not perfect… but maybe the best I’ll see today.”

  Her voice warmed.

  “You’re through. Well done, Lyra. You made it to the next round.”

  Caelan lay spread-eagled on the ground, wearing the world’s widest grin.

  Keira shouted, “Erm, I think you’ll find she still has ten seconds left, Lieutenant!”

  Solara didn’t break eye contact with Lyra.

  She simply lifted her wooden sword—

  —and hurled it like a spear.

  It buried itself in the tree Keira was tied to, right under her chin.

  Keira gasped. “Ha! Miss—”

  The tree cracked.

  “WAIT WAIT WAIT—CATCH ME!”

  The whole trunk toppled backwards, slamming into the dirt with Keira sprawled helplessly on top.

  Caelan burst into uncontrollable laughter.

  Lyra lunged up and wrapped her arms around Solara. The lieutenant stiffened in pure shock… then slowly, tentatively returned the hug, whispering almost too quietly to hear, “We don’t normally hug while on mission… but just this once.”