The wind howled as Alyssa flew through the air, her coil-spear launcher yanking her from the ground like a slingshot aimed at the sky.

  Stone, steel, and bone-shaped training dummies blurred below as she angled her body, twisting mid-spin to cut momentum with flawless precision. She landed in a crouch, boots hitting the dirt with barely a puff of dust.

  Instructor Halveth blew his whistle.

  “Time: fourteen seconds. Flawless control.”

  Liam let out a sharp whistle of his own.

  “She’s going to get promoted before the rest of us even get blisters.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Olivia snapped, already adjusting her launcher.

  Alyssa stood calm, eyes forward, hardly breathing hard.

  It had been nearly a month since grapple drills began, and most cadets still fumbled or swung too wide. Alyssa, though, adapted as if she had been doing it for years.

  Sophie bounded over, cheeks flushed, hair clinging with sweat from her own attempt. She grinned wide.

  “You stuck the landing this time!” She gave Alyssa a playful punch on the shoulder.

  Alyssa tilted her head slightly.

  “I always stick the landing.”

  “Yeah, but this time you didn’t look like you were about to stab the ground out of spite.”

  A soft chuckle slipped past Alyssa before she could hide it.

  Sophie saw it and beamed, as though her mission in life was to crack Alyssa open one smile at a time.

  From across the yard, Noah watched them with narrowed eyes. He said nothing.

  Instructor Halveth paced the line, his hands behind his back.

  “You’re improving,” he said. “But improving is not surviving. One missed swing. One misfire. One second of panic. That is all the Rhupenshron need to tear you apart.”

  He gestured toward a burned husk of a brute-type dummy. Its frame resembled a lion crossed with plated bark, its veins painted with glowing orange. Spear marks lined its hide, but shallow, ineffective.

  “Next week will be your first live trial in the canyon. Squads of three. You will be watched, but not saved.”

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  Sophie’s grin faded. Liam’s smirk vanished.

  Alyssa only tightened her grip on her practice sword.

  She was ready.

  Yet beneath her focus, something new stirred. Not just fury anymore. Something warmer. Something Sophie had given her without trying.

  Hope.

  The common room carried the hum of tired cadets, the clink of mugs, the stretch of lantern-light across the stone floor.

  Vaeyna leaned against a support beam, arms crossed, her dark braid draped forward like a coiled whip. Her face, sharp and unreadable as always, softened slightly as she listened to her squad.

  “You see how that brute clamped Marek’s leg?” Darin shook his head, rubbing his bruised arm. “Thing didn’t even want to eat him. Just wanted to break him.”

  “They’re bolder near the cliffs,” said Kira, twirling a toothpick. “Used to scatter if one of us aimed a launcher.”

  “That wasn’t boldness,” said Talen, quiet as ever. “That was practiced. The shell-type flanked while the bear rushed. That wasn’t chance.”

  Vaeyna exhaled slowly.

  “They aren’t clever. But they remember patterns. If we keep sending the same formations, they will keep adjusting to them.”

  The group fell silent at that.

  Darin muttered, half-smiling. “You always make it sound simple. You scare me sometimes.”

  Vaeyna’s lips barely moved. “Good.”

  At the far side of the room, Alyssa sat with a chipped mug of bitter tea. Her boots were still dusty from drills. Sophie leaned close to her, whispering something that made Ethan groan and swipe his game tokens away. Olivia stretched, flipping through the logbook. Noah sat with his eyes closed against the wall, listening without speaking.

  Alyssa was not part of it. She was watching.

  Across the room stood Vaeyna. The one who had lifted her from fire two years ago. The only solid figure in the chaos of that night.

  Alyssa rose.

  “Where are you going?” Sophie asked.

  No answer.

  She crossed the room, steady, eyes fixed. Vaeyna noticed her approach. For a heartbeat her expression softened. She waited.

  The cadet stood before them, dwarfed by the older warriors. Conversation hushed.

  “You’re one of the new cadets,” Vaeyna said evenly.

  Alyssa nodded. She opened her mouth, shut it, then tried again.

  “You saved me. Two years ago.”

  The squad went silent. Even the cadets at the game table stopped.

  Vaeyna’s eyes narrowed in memory, not annoyance.

  “I remember.”

  “That was you?” Darin gave a low whistle. “Took a hell of a risk walking through the open.”

  “She did not even notice the Rhupenshron around her,” Vaeyna said softly. “She just kept walking.”

  “Most do not recover from that kind of loss,” Kira murmured.

  Alyssa lowered her eyes. She stayed silent.

  “You came to say something,” Vaeyna said.

  Alyssa lifted her head. Her voice was quiet, but certain.

  “I want to be strong. Like you.”

  Talen raised a brow. “Big ambition for a ten-year-old.”

  No one laughed.

  Vaeyna’s voice dropped low, steady and honest.

  “Strength costs something. Every piece of it. Are you sure you want that?”

  Alyssa hesitated, then nodded.

  Vaeyna studied her for a long moment before replying.

  “Good.”

  She turned back to her squad. Alyssa lingered in front of her, the strange weight of resolve solid in her chest. For the first time in days, her hands did not shake.