Training Hall

  The room was different this time. No mat. No physical combat sensors. Just a wide circular space with arcane markings on the floor and a magical barrier covering the walls like a soft dome, pulsing in lavender hues.

  —This is not where you fight with your fists —Caelia said as she entered, her voice carrying effortlessly—. This is where we strike with who we are.

  We stood in a straight line in front of a floating rune panel displaying our energy levels. Above us, three observation drones activated their recording mode.

  —No transformations —Caelia clarified—. Your magic core must respond without the symbolic layer. If you can’t make your weapon obey without dressing for war, then you haven’t learned anything.

  Velka let out a theatrical sigh.

  —Back in our work clothes. So glamorous.

  —Less glamour, more control —murmured Neyra, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  I just nodded, swallowing hard.

  Caelia gave the order.

  —Manifest.

  —

  I dropped into myself. Breathed deep. I searched for the rancor—not the outburst, not the fury—just… that hot, pulsing core. Quiet. Like a thorn lodged in the heart. I clung to it.

  And I felt the response.

  The rifle emerged in my hand in a flicker of shadows and frost. Long, elegant, heavy. I still struggled to hold it properly. Still feared pulling the trigger by accident.

  I looked at the others.

  Velka made a smooth motion with her right hand. A broken sword emerged from her palm: the black blade was worn, fractured at the tip, but glowed like it bled starlight. Along the spine of the blade, a hexagonal slit opened, like the mouth of a cannon. She grinned.

  —All set to cause a scene.

  Neyra closed her eyes. Her staff materialized in floating segments around her arms before snapping together with a clean click. It was white and blue metal, covered in shifting engravings that adjusted with each movement.

  —Order in chaos —she whispered.

  And finally, Caelia.

  She didn’t move.

  Her two daggers simply appeared at her sides, one in each hand. They were longer than normal daggers, curved, a deep blue like condensed ice. She held them in reverse grip, blades down.

  —Good —she said. —Let’s work on flow and control.

  —

  The targets rose at different heights: floating spheres that moved in unpredictable patterns. Some fast, some slow. Some duplicated. Others vanished if you aimed directly.

  —Remember —said Caelia—. Emotion directs. But the mind executes.

  Velka was the first to fire. Her sword spun with a flourish and a red projectile shot from the fracture in the blade, hitting a sphere with explosive force.

  —Boom —she said, like it was a game.

  Neyra spun her staff. The segments separated like serpents, whirling around her before she unleashed a sweep of blue energy toward three targets at once. Two hit. One dodged.

  —Missed by inches —she muttered, lips pursed.

  —Adjust your center —Caelia replied—. Your obsession is valuable, but only if you channel it.

  She herself took a short step back and threw her daggers with surgical precision. One pierced a moving sphere. The other caught it on the rebound, slicing it clean in half.

  My turn.

  I breathed. Aimed.

  The rifle adjusted to my pulse, like it was listening.

  I fired.

  The sound was low, muted. A deep whisper. The first target exploded.

  But the next ones moved faster. I aimed for the second. Fired. Missed.

  —Breathe —said Neyra—. Not with fear. With intention.

  I tried again. Adjusted the sight. The third shot hit… but with less force.

  Velka whistled.

  —That one landed like a hug, not a grudge.

  —Shut up —I said, but not angrily. I smiled.

  Caelia moved among us, observing. Correcting. Her eyes didn’t judge. They measured.

  —Power isn’t the goal. Connection is. If your weapon hesitates, so do you. If your weapon destroys what it shouldn’t… you’re not ready for war.

  —And what if we’re never ready? —I asked, without thinking.

  She stopped in front of me. Held my gaze.

  —Then the world will break us. And we’ll have to decide whether to become something else… or disappear.

  —

  We trained for nearly an hour. The targets became more erratic. The projections harder.

  At one point, Velka fell, rolling from a misfired shot. We laughed. Even Caelia.

  Neyra used her staff like a whip and accidentally snagged my leg. She apologized with a quick gesture, then helped me up.

  By the end, sweat covered our faces and the air smelled of ozone and raw emotion. Caelia shut down the drones and crossed her arms.

  —You’re not a team yet. But… you’re no longer just scattered pieces.

  Velka tossed her broken sword to the ground. It dissolved into black smoke.

  —Was that a compliment?

  —That was a fact —Caelia replied—. Rest. Tomorrow will be worse.

  I stored the rifle. It dissolved into the air with a soft vibration. As if it didn’t want to leave.

  And neither did I.

  We left the magical chamber walking slowly, legs heavy, fingers numb from channeling so much energy. The corridor air was cooler now, almost pleasant after the accumulated heat of practice.

  Velka stretched her arms overhead, joints popping like overused rubber.

  —If anyone throws another floating target at me today… I’m going to transform just to bite it.

  —That’s not a valid transformation —Neyra remarked with a smile.

  —Sure it is. Have you seen my true form? I’m chaos, glitter… and possibly magical hemorrhoids.

  I laughed. It slipped out before I could stop it, and they noticed.

  Velka turned toward me with a feline expression.

  —And you, Velcrux? Enjoy your first dance with real weapons?

  —It wasn’t a fight… more like… not dying in public.

  —Ha! That’s the spirit. If you don’t die in front of others, it’s already a win.

  We kept walking down the side corridor that led to the dorms. The lights were softer there. The walls had gray panels with inscriptions no one read anymore. Everything was quiet.

  Velka glanced at me.

  —By the way…

  —What?

  —Now that I saw you shoot with all that pent-up intensity… —She grinned sideways—. Is it proportional? I mean, if your bullets are as heavy as your boobs… that’s gotta hurt.

  I nearly tripped.

  —What?! —I gasped, feeling heat crawl up my neck.

  —Come on, Lyss. You know they’re ridiculous. Even your training suit can’t handle them! And we’re not even talking about the combat uniform. That one’s already throwing in the towel.

  —Velka… —Neyra murmured, though she covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

  —I’m just saying —Velka went on, stepping a bit closer, not quite invading but clearly teasing— we should conduct a tactile evaluation. Purely academic. See if that softness is real or just an optical illusion.

  —I’m not letting you grope me, you damn pervert! —I snapped, cheeks blazing.

  Velka raised her hands.

  —Ooh! So you admit they’re soft. Confirmed.

  —I did not say that!

  Caelia, who had been walking a few steps ahead, stopped just before opening the dorm door.

  —Velka. If you touch her without permission, I’ll drive my daggers into your ribs myself.

  —Oh, Mother Caelia, so formal. —Velka gave a dramatic bow—. I promise my desires are one hundred percent platonic and only eighty percent lascivious.

  The door opened. We entered one by one.

  —Is she always like this? —I asked quietly, leaning toward Neyra.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  —Worse when she showers with us —she whispered back with a smile.

  I laughed, no longer trying to hide it.

  In that moment, I realized something: my laughter didn’t sound forced anymore. My embarrassment, though it still burned, no longer hurt. And strangely enough… I liked being here. With them. Even with their teasing—maybe because of it.

  Velka turned back to me one last time before stepping into her room.

  —If you ever want me to sleep next to you to guard your natural treasures… just whistle. I specialize in pectoral security.

  —You’re sick.

  —And you’re gorgeous. What a dangerous combination.

  Caelia turned off the main light and, along with Neyra, said goodnight before heading into their room, which connected through a small interior door.

  And I laid down without feeling like I didn’t belong.

  —

  I woke up to the sound of something crashing to the floor.

  I blinked.

  —What the hell…?! —I mumbled, half buried in my blanket.

  Velka was standing on her bed, wrapped in a towel, wielding a sandal like a weapon.

  —There was a moth the size of a hand! I swear! It flew straight into my boobs! Tried to possess me!

  Neyra was already laughing, sitting up with her mug of tea half-prepared.

  —Velka, that was a speck of dust.

  —It was a reincarnated witch!

  —You’re screaming half-naked —muttered Caelia from her bunk, eyes still closed.

  —Sometimes evil must be faced like a goddess —Velka replied, climbing down as if the whole scene had been part of a personal play.

  I sat up, tangled in my blanket, hair a mess, completely lost.

  —Do mornings always start like this?

  Neyra looked at me with a warm smile.

  —Only when Velka sleeps well.

  —And I dreamed I was flying, thank you for asking! —Velka added while rummaging for her underwear with exaggerated dignity.

  I laughed. Awkwardly, yes, but I did.

  I got up while the others were already getting dressed, chatting and going about their routines like we’d known each other for years.

  Something stirred inside me. Not anxiety this time. It was fear… of fitting in so well it would hurt to lose it.

  And still, I wanted to be here.

  —

  In the dining hall, Velka was still going on about her “duel with the moth witch.”

  —I faced her with courage, but she defeated me. Left my dignity bruised.

  —I’ll assume that explains your hair —said Caelia, already seated with her perfectly arranged tray, not a single crumb out of place.

  Velka put on a wounded expression. I was just nibbling the bread, but I couldn’t stop watching them.

  —No training today? —I asked.

  —No —said Caelia—. We earned a day off.

  —And we’re just going to stay here… doing nothing?

  —Got something in mind, baby shadow? —Velka asked, resting her chin on her hands.

  I shrugged.

  —I just thought… maybe we could train. Or play. Or both.

  Neyra looked at me, surprised.

  —Are you suggesting a simulation mission?

  —Why not? Could be fun.

  Velka threw me a piece of bread like it was a reward.

  —I’m starting to really like this version of you.

  —

  We turned the east training wing into our stage.

  Caelia agreed without resistance, though she made it clear she wouldn’t be running.

  —I’ll be the base. Defend your token with dignity. Or without it, if you’re Velka.

  —My dignity is safely hidden where no one will ever find it!

  Neyra sketched out a quick map. Velka set the rules: simulated sensors, noise traps, tactical illusion allowed. The objective: steal a magic token without being detected.

  We split up: Neyra and I as a team. Velka solo. Caelia as the target.

  The match lasted over an hour. There was laughter, theatrical insults, and a chase through holograms that almost ended with Velka caught in one of Neyra’s projection nets.

  —Emotional trap! Sensory abuse! —she yelled while rolling on the floor, laughing.

  I managed to reach the token… and lasted exactly three seconds before Caelia caught me in a lasso of energy.

  —Lack of cover —she said—. But good direction.

  Neyra helped me off the floor. She was smiling.

  —You’re getting better.

  —You’re starting to look like a real shadow —Velka said, panting—. Ugly, bruised, and proud.

  —Thanks… I think.

  —

  Back in the room, Velka played music on her portable device: a soft, almost old melody — the kind that sounded born of sadness but meant to console.

  Caelia sat down to review her pre-deployment report. Neyra was brewing infusions, the scent of mint floating through the room like a balm. I sat at the edge of my bed, legs dangling, hair still damp from the shower.

  Velka flopped onto her mattress and raised one arm without opening her eyes.

  —I hereby declare this the most useful and least productive day of our careers.

  —It was productive —I said, without thinking too hard.

  They looked at me.

  —I learned how to laugh without wondering if I should. I learned how to fall without feeling ashamed. And… how to look forward without searching for the exit.

  Caelia lowered her gaze, though there was a slight curve on her lips. Neyra sat beside me, placing a cup in my hands.

  —Then it was a good day.

  —It was the best —I said.

  After dinner and showers, we returned to the room. The atmosphere felt light, almost familiar. Neyra brought out a small box of sweet bars she’d saved for “emotional emergencies,” and Velka swore on her soul (which, according to her, had already been mortgaged three times) that she deserved at least half.

  This time, both Neyra and Caelia brought their things to sleep in the same room.

  —If there’s chocolate involved, I am the emergency —Velka declared, flopping onto her bed dramatically—. I’m broken, dirty, misunderstood… and also beautiful.

  —You can't be all that at the same time —I said, already changed into a long t-shirt and shorts I barely wore outside the dorm.

  —And who's going to stop me? The rules? Decency? Your grandma shirt?

  —It’s not a grandma shirt!

  —You could hide a classified file under that thing and no one would notice —she added, raising an eyebrow.

  —Leave her alone —said Neyra, wrapping herself in a thin blanket while handing me one of the sweet bars—. It’s cute. And clean. That’s already more than most.

  Velka pretended to faint from the drama.

  Caelia, from her corner, was reading something on her glowing tablet, but listening. You could tell by the slight curves in her lips every time someone said something ridiculous.

  —Can I do something stupid? —Velka asked.

  —No —the three of us answered in unison.

  —Already did.

  And with a sudden motion, she threw a tiny piece of dark lace into the air.

  —IS THAT YOUR UNDERWEAR?! —I shouted, jumping to my feet as the fabric floated down like a leaf onto my head.

  —Sometimes the spirit needs to fly —Velka said solemnly, like a priestess of madness.

  —Apparently your panties do too!

  Neyra laughed so hard her infusion spilled onto her mattress. Caelia, without looking up, said:

  —You have five seconds to pick that up before I classify it as biological waste.

  Velka bowed dramatically, grabbed the garment and waved it like a flag.

  —This squad was founded on the principle of free underwear! Long live the shameless shadows!

  —Long live your nonsense! —I threw a pillow straight at her face.

  She caught it gracefully, collapsing onto her bed like a heroic casualty.

  —Shadow down in the name of revolution —she muttered, covering her eyes.

  The room fell quiet for a few seconds. Just the soft sounds of Neyra cleaning her blanket and Caelia powering down her panel.

  I laid on my side, giggling into the pillow.

  —Never thought a night like this… could exist.

  —Like what? —Neyra asked.

  —Normal. Happy. Weird. All of that at once.

  —It’s the closest we have to a truce —Caelia replied—. We should enjoy it.

  Velka rolled onto her back, arms behind her head.

  —If tomorrow everything goes to hell… I’m glad I threw that thong in time.

  —If tomorrow everything goes to hell —I said softly—. I’m glad it’s with you.

  Silence.

  But the good kind.

  The kind that doesn’t feel awkward. The kind that holds you.

  And that’s how we fell asleep.

  Some wrapped in blankets. Others still laughing. One without underwear, obviously.

  And all of us, unknowingly, on the edge of what would change us forever.

  I woke to a low, vibrating alarm. It wasn’t a siren. It was more... intimate. A hum straight to the bone, like my pulse had synced with Seravenn’s urgency.

  The room was dim, lit only by red lines running across the ceiling like artificial veins. They blinked. Rhythmic. Like a war heart beating at midnight.

  —Come on, rookie —Velka muttered, already dressing with mechanical efficiency. Her voice hadn’t lost its usual mocking tone, but this time, there was an edge to it—. We’ve been activated.

  Activated. At this hour? I’d barely been here a day.

  Then it hit me: this was real. War doesn’t sleep.

  We marched in step, crossing corridors now alive with soldiers and security personnel. Some bowed to us. Others just stared with restrained respect. A mix of reverence and fear.

  I was just trying not to trip over my own thoughts.

  When we reached the operations room, the atmosphere was dense, charged with compressed magic and military sweat. A projector showed a three-dimensional map of the eastern front, with blue, red, and purple markers. Control zones, patrol routes, clash points.

  A high-ranking officer in command uniform was waiting.

  —Priority recovery. Sector D-17. An experimental arcane engine was intercepted by unidentified forces near the Eiswacht border. The mission is to locate, infiltrate, and retrieve the artifact —or destroy it if recovery is impossible.

  I frowned. A critical mission… with me?

  Caelia raised her voice, her displeasure clear:

  —Are you sure it’s wise to send her? She’s been under our command for less than forty hours.

  The officer didn’t hesitate.

  —The order comes directly from Matriarch Elore Stryvann and High Instructor Venesse Aerla. The mandate is binding. Refusal would be considered insubordination.

  The weight of those names dropped on me like lead. I didn’t fully understand what the “Veils” were yet, but the respect —no, reverent fear— they inspired was obvious. Even Caelia, all firmness and logic, lowered her gaze.

  On our way to the hangar, I couldn’t help but ask:

  —Why do those women… have that much authority? Even above generals?

  Neyra turned from her seat, a crooked smile on her face.

  —Because in Seravenn, nothing is more sacred than the emotions that give us power. And they control them all.

  The hangar was a cathedral of steel. Our transport, a stealth aircraft cloaked in black, was ready and humming with camouflage runes. We boarded in silence. The hatch closed with a metallic whisper.

  Inside, space was tight. Intimate.

  Caelia was the first to rise and stand at the center.

  —Transform. Now.

  I took a breath.

  Forced myself to feel.

  Let the resentment wrap around me like a thick fog. The memory of what I’d lost. Of what I didn’t yet understand. Of what I couldn’t forgive.

  Then, like a reflex, my body responded.

  Magic surged through me like warm electricity. My bracelet dissolved into crimson light.

  My battle uniform emerged from nothing: black plates with deep purple veins, iridescent fabric that seemed alive. The crest of the Crown’s Shadows glowed on my chest like a freshly sealed wound. My abdomen, marked by my scar, fit the design as if it had been foreseen. Everything was precision. Fear. Lethal beauty.

  Caelia transformed in a burst of dark gray smoke and muted blue light. Her daggers appeared hanging from her back like two spectral fangs. Her uniform was elegant, almost ceremonial. The emotion of distrust pulsed like a constant radar.

  Neyra simply exploded in light. Her suit was asymmetrical, full of details that shimmered in green and gold —obsession burning like a fever on her skin. Her staff-rifle spun into existence, like it had been waiting for her all day.

  Velka was last. Her transformation was soft, like a sigh. A pink mist enveloped her, giving way to a light armor lined with silvery light. Her medical pistol floated by her side, and her eyes were calm. Regret didn’t weigh her down; she carried it with grace.

  I was new.

  But seeing the four of us reflected in the opaque glass of the transport, I felt something.

  Not just fear.

  Belonging.