I barely heard the chosen teachers for the others as I stood in utter shock at Azune's acceptance, despite his girlfriend's wishes. Azune’s eyes glanced my way from beside me, and I could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Fuck, that’s right—Torence Stone’s bloodline ability was reading the thoughts of any person his skin touched, and I had let Azune touch my hand. A rush of panic surged through me as I realized what that meant. What had I thought in those brief moments of contact? Had he glimpsed the chaos swirling in my mind, the desires and fears inextricably intertwined?
I tried to mask my thoughts, focusing on the surroundings, but the weight of his gaze made it almost impossible. Everything felt magnified—my heartbeat, the whispers of doubt creeping in. I could almost hear him echoing my thoughts, the way they danced and tangled as I struggled for control.
What did he see? Did he sense the fear of being vulnerable, of embracing this new part of myself? Would he understand my tumultuous journey, or would he only see the girl who had become more closely entwined with darkness?
As the realization settled in, I forced myself to stand tall, squaring my shoulders. There was no way I would let him—or anyone—read the depths of my soul. I wouldn't give them that power. Yet, I couldn’t shake the tingling sensation of his touch lingering on my skin, reminding me of the barrier I was threading between us.
I glanced back at him, my expression carefully neutral, though inside there was a storm of emotions churning. “What’s so funny?” I shot back, trying to regain some semblance of control over the moment. His smile widened, and for a heartbeat, I felt a flicker of connection, a whisper of understanding that we were more alike than either of us might admit.
Parker stormed over with fury etched on her face, practically shoving a blindfold into Azune's hands. He sighed, rolling his eyes in resignation before tying the fabric around my eyes. “You will follow me into the darkness as we find our way by moonlight to the academy. I will be your guide, and you will be my light,” he echoed, words heavy with the weight of expectation.
As I stood there, enveloped in darkness, I felt the chaotic energy of the cavern fade into a haunting quiet. The vibrant colors of the others now washed away, leaving nothing but shadows in my mind. The world became a blend of sensations—the cool fabric against my skin, the sounds of whispered excitement fading into the background, and the subtle but strong presence of Azune beside me.
I could sense his frustration, and despite my own swirling fears, I felt a flicker of determination ignite within me. I was not just a shadow; I had my own light to offer, even if it felt dimmer than the brilliance surrounding us.
“Trust me,” he instructed, his voice low and steady. “I know the way.”
There was something comforting in his tone, a steady anchor as we moved forward. With each careful step guided by Azune, I focused on my breathing, on the rhythm of my heart, and the feeling of the cool stone beneath my feet. I was not merely a follower; I was a participant in this journey, navigating through the darkness toward something unknown yet hopeful.
“This darkness doesn’t define you,” he added softly. “You have the power to shine where others may falter you are the tamer of the demon within.”
Though I could not see beyond the blindfold, I turned my head up in his direction. That quote was directly from my father's journal, always kept under lock and key. How did he know that? The realization sent a chill down my spine, intertwining curiosity with a deep-seated fear. My father had always guarded those words closely, shrouded in mystery as if they held the secrets of our family's past. The thought that someone else had access to those private musings made my heart race.
I felt an unsettling mix of emotions—betrayal, confusion, and a hint of intrigue. Who was this person that could breach the sanctuary of my father’s thoughts? Did they understand the weight of those words? My mind raced through the implications. Was there a connection between his journal and the path i had been forced on?
As I stood there, grappling with the revelation, I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets were hidden in the pages I had never dared to explore. What else had he written that could change everything I thought I knew? In that moment, I realized that perhaps the answers I sought were not just buried in my father’s past but also within his own writing...
The chill of the breeze stung my face as I kept my hand in Azune's, grounding myself against the encroaching panic. My surroundings were shrouded in darkness, everything obscured and uncertain, a swirling abyss I couldn't navigate. When he finally removed the blindfold, my heart raced as the eerie forest revealed itself—a place choked by trees, their skeletal branches reaching toward the sky, and a murky swamp exuding an unsettling aroma.
Suddenly, he shoved me, and I stumbled backward, catching myself on the palms of my hands. The sharp bite of dead pine needles and jagged rocks cut into my skin, sending a jolt of pain through me. “What the hell are you doing here, Kiri?” His voice was harsh, laced with confusion and anger, echoing between the trees. I glanced up at him, my heart pounding in my chest, a mix of fear and frustration bubbling within. The forest loomed over us, an oppressive silence wrapping around me like a shroud. I struggled to find my voice, the words tangled in my throat.
“Why did you lead me out here? What are you talking about? I don’t even know you! If you’re going to kill me, just do it!” His glare pierced through the dim light, eyes narrowed with defiance.
“If I wanted you dead, this wouldn’t be the place I'd want everyone to know I did it. No,” he shot back, his voice low and intense. “I mean, why are you entering the Shadow Briar Academy? Why are you choosing to be a Shade?”
I scoffed, the words tumbling out before I could hold them back. “Tynon didn’t exactly give me a choice! That’s why!”
His expression softened momentarily, surprise flickering in his eyes. “You think Tynon can force you? This path—it’s about more than just family legacy. It’s about who you want to be. You don’t have to wear the shadows if you don’t want to.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t understand. It’s not just about me. There are expectations, burdens. Tynon has a reputation, and I’m just… stuck in his shadow.”
"Then step the hell out of it, do whatever you want, but so help me God, stay the hell away from me!" he sneered.
I sprang to my feet, my face flushed with rage that didn't entirely belong to me. My mouth moved, but the words felt foreign, spilling out like an echo of someone else's anger. "You act as if it's so goddamn easy, boy! If I don’t do as he ordered, then he will kill me for you. And news flash, you got paired with me, so looks like I'm your problem now."
I could see his face stiffen at my words, a mixture of confusion and defiance crossing his features. The tension hung heavy between us, the air crackling with the unspoken truth that neither of us wanted to confront. This wasn’t just about us anymore; we were caught in a web neither of us had chosen, tangled in a dangerous game where every decision could mean life or death.
He opened his mouth, probably to shoot back, but I was done with the back and forth. The anger surged within me like a wildfire, fueled by the urgency of our situation. "You think I want this? You think I wanted to be thrown into this mess? Trust me, if I had a choice, I’d be far away from here, tending to my plants and living a life unbothered."
The words hung between us, raw and unfiltered, revealing a glimpse of the vulnerability I had been trying so hard to hide.
"Look," I continued, my voice softer now, "I don’t want to be here any more than you do. But we don’t have to face this alone. If we work together, we might stand a chance. But if you keep pushing me away, it won’t just hurt me; it’ll hurt us both especially if tynon doesnt get his way.."
"Fine, whatever. Let’s just get to the academy," I replied, my voice betraying a mix of frustration and uncertainty. I nodded, falling into step behind him, my footfalls soft against the forest floor. For hours, we navigated the winding paths through the trees, the only sounds being the rustling leaves and our steady breaths. It felt like we were tracing invisible steps laid down by previous travelers, each stride taking me deeper into uncertainty.
Eventually, we emerged into a clearing, and the outline of the academy came into view. It loomed before us, a grand castle seemingly woven from the very fabric of the woods. Its towering spires reached up toward the sky, cloaked in ivy and mystery. My heart raced at the sight; it was both breathtaking and intimidating. What in the actual hell was I getting myself into?
A lantern flickered in the window above the imposing door, casting a warm glow that illuminated the path ahead. It was our beacon, a guiding light against the encroaching darkness of the forest. I felt a strange pull toward it, a mixture of hope and anxiety swirling in the pit of my stomach. This was it—the place where I would begin the journey I had spent so long dreading and anticipating.
As we approached the castle, the vibrant colors of the surrounding foliage seemed to fade into the background, the focus shifting to the formidable structure before us. I could hear the distant sounds of laughter and chatter echoing within its stone walls, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in my mind. What awaited me inside? Would I find acceptance among my peers or just more hatered and spite. i was sure id find the latter.
once i entered i was assigned a room and told to go there. so i did. it was an order i couldnt technically refuse. Once I got to my room, I instantly realized it wasn't chosen by coincidence. A four-poster bed stood next to a tower window, draped in navy blue curtains, while a canopy of blue silk hung overhead, casting a serene ambiance. The bed itself was adorned with a blanket emblazoned with the Darksbane family crest, a symbol of my lineage that felt both comforting and heavy.
As I glanced around, the dust covering the desk across the room signified that nobody had been up here in a very long time. It was a stillness steeped in silence, as if the room held its breath, waiting. I reached out and grabbed a worn book from the surface, blowing off the dust that had settled like a memory long forgotten. When I read the title, my breath caught in my throat—it was my dad's lost journal. How was it here the entire time, hidden away, while no one ever knew?
I sat down on the cold stone floor, relishing the privacy of my sanctuary, and began pouring over its pages. The words seemed to jump out at me, filled with emotions and stories I had yearned to uncover. I had to reread certain sections, my eyes darting back and forth, as I flipped the pages, terrified of what I might discover next. Each sentence pulled me deeper into his thoughts and experiences, revealing fragments of a life I had only heard about in whispers.
His first mission had been a devastating success. Fifteen lives extinguished with nothing more than a cup of hemlock and sage tea. In the margins of the old, tattered pages where he recorded the details of his deadly work, a note caught my eye. It was as if Dad had been tracking my education, keeping tabs even from beyond the classroom.
*Hemlock: a neat little plant useful in many things, but my favorite is killing. It can help with sleep or even aid in pain in small amounts, but God forbid you have more than three leaves.*
Reading that line, I felt a chill race down my spine. Herbology had always been my refuge, my solace—a world where I nurtured life rather than took it away. Yet here was my father's twisted version of that knowledge, a juxtaposition that felt foreign to everything I believed in.
I couldn’t help but think he left this behind for me to find, a haunting reminder of the legacy he aimed to pass down. It wasn’t just about the plants. It was about power, knowledge, and the perilous choices that come with them. In his words, I sensed both a challenge and a warning, a glimpse into the darker side of a world I was desperate to escape.
It seemed he too sought this to be my path. Under different circumstances, it could have been a choice of my own, if my parents had been alive to guide me here. Maybe he wanted to teach me these things himself and left them here just in case he never got the chance. As I lay on the floor, the world around me faded, and I fell asleep holding tight to my father’s last words—words that felt like a lifeline—and the most precious thing I owned now, a testament to his love and hopes for me.
In that quiet space, I allowed myself to dream of a future where I could carve out my own identity, one that honored his legacy. The storm within me began to settle, replaced by a tender determination that whispered of new beginnings, still infused with the lessons he imparted.
The deliciously sweet dreams soon faded into the muddled blackness they always did, leaving me staring into the glow of fire and the roar of a dragon as it burned the world before it to the ground. My mother approached me, sword raised, ready to kill me.
Her figure was a striking silhouette against the inferno, eyes glinting with a mix of wrath and sorrow. I could feel the heat radiating from the destruction surrounding us, the ground trembling beneath my feet. My heart raced as I grappled with the weight of her intent and the chaos swirling around us.
“Why?” I wanted to scream, but the words caught in my throat. The flames roared louder, their crackling consuming my thoughts, and the dragon let out a deafening roar that felt like an embodiment of my fears. It was as if the very essence of chaos manifested before me, demanding answers to questions I couldn’t even articulate.
In that moment, standing at the crossroads of my past and an uncertain future, I felt the world crumble around me—not just in flames, but in the loss of everything I believed I was. My mother’s sword shone in the firelight, and as she took a step closer, time slipped away from me. The choice between fight or flight loomed large, and yet all I could do was stare into the abyss of her fury.
chapter 5
I stumbled backward, my body falling into the blackness as I skidded onto my bottom, reaching for anything to help me. My heart raced, the cold sweat of panic drenching my palms. Finally, my hand found the hilt of a sword buried in the back of a fallen soldier.
With a surge of adrenaline, I pulled the weapon free, the weight of it feeling strangely familiar in my grip. The blade gleamed dully in the dim light, a reminder of the chaos surrounding me. Shadows danced on the walls illuminated by flame, twisted faces of fear and determination reflecting my own inner turmoil.
As I crouched there, I could feel the heaviness in the air, the essence of loss mingling with the metallic scent of blood and despair. I had no training, no real experience with combat, yet in that moment, instinct took hold. I rose to my feet, sword poised before me as I scanned the darkness for any sign of movement. my arms screamed with the weight of the weapon i now gripped on to firmly in my hand. how did men swing these things awound as if they weighed nothing?
There was a chill in the air, the stillness before a storm, and I could hear whispers echoing from the depths, teasing at my thoughts. “You don’t belong here,” they seemed to hiss. But I couldn’t afford to listen. The weight of the sword felt empowering, urging me to push past my fear.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself and stepped deeper into the darkness. The world I had known—a place of nurturing and healing—seemed galaxies away.
Now all that was here was darkness and my rage-crazed sadistic mother, her presence a constant reminder of the chaos that enveloped my life. I felt powerless against her tempestuous nature, like a leaf caught in a storm, unable to find shelter from the fury she unleashed. Every sharp word pierced through the silence like a knife, and the shadows around us seemed to deepen, feeding on my fear and despair. What dreams to have, I often thought. Dreams of escape, of serenity, of a world untouched by her wrath. Yet those dreams felt futile, slipping further away each time I reached for them. I longed for a sense of normalcy, a fleeting glimpse of joy that remained maddeningly out of reach. Instead, I was trapped in a cycle of anguish and manipulation, where love was twisted into something unrecognizable.
Before I could delve deeper into the dreamscape I was trapped in, I found myself suddenly jolted awake, my heart pounding against my ribs as if trying to escape the nightmare. My hair clung to my forehead, soaked with sweat, and I instinctively wiped my damp palms against the plush velvet blue blanket on my bed, the Darksbane crest embossed in black and silver glaring at me like a taunt. Anger flared in my stomach, bubbling up like a pot nearing its boil.
Without thinking, I grabbed the blanket, twisting it tightly in my fists before hurling it into the corner of the room like a discarded reminder of everything I wanted to escape.
“Woah, we wake on the wrong side of the bed, did we?” a deep voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned my head to see Tynon Darksbane standing in the doorway, tall and imposing in his black and red robe. His grey eyes were cold and dead, mirroring the lines etched into his aged face.
“What are you doing here? You usually have better things to concern yourself with,” I shot back, my voice laced with bitterness. My irritation simmered beneath the surface, a mix of resentment and the frustration of feeling like I was living in someone else's story.
He stepped further inside, not bothering to mask the smirk creeping onto his lips. It was infuriating how he carried himself with such arrogance, as if he owned every shadow that danced across the room.
“I heard the delightful sounds of your restlessness,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Such a vivid imagination you have. But remember, you have responsibilities now. The syndicate doesn't wait for anyone, least of all you.”
“Responsibilities? Or shackles?” I retorted, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on me. “You can’t simply dictate what my life should be. I’m not my father or rather i am not you, Tynon.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his features, but he quickly masked it with a wave of his hand. “That’s where you’re wrong, my dear. You are every bit a Darksbane. You may not see it yet, but you will embrace this position in your life whether you like it or not.”
His presence felt suffocating, a reminder that no matter how hard I tried to distance myself from this god forsaken family, the name loomed over me like a dark cloud. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I refused to let him see my turmoil.
“You aren’t the one who has to live with this,” I shot back, my voice stronger this time, though my heart raced. “You don’t get to dictate what I’ll become. what choices i make or who i will be.”
His laugh was low and threatening. “I’ll believe that when I see it. You may think you’re unique in your desires, but the shadows don’t care for whims. They demand loyalty, dedication... discipline.”
With that, he turned on his heel, the fabric of his robe sweeping dramatically as he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sank back against the headboard. fuck my life.
one thing was certain: Tynon's word was law. Abraxes and I had no chance of beating him... not one. The weight of his decisions loomed over us like a veil, and every option felt trapped behind a wall of inevitability.
Abraxes, his fierce loyalty overshadowed by an equal measure of frustration, used the bond to pull me in to the spiritual realm, his eyes filled with unspoken questions. Did he feel the same helplessness I did? We were caught in a web spun by someone who wielded power without any regard for our desires.
It wasn’t just about the legacy; it was about identity, purpose, and the relentless weight of the choices made for us. I longed for the autonomy to define myself, free from Tynon’s influence and expectations, but my life felt predetermined...as if i no choice i made was my own..
Abraxes took a deep breath, grounding himself as if he was trying to summon the strength we both lacked as he scanned the spiritual plane. “We can’t just let him dictate our futures,” he said, his voice low but firm. “There has to be a way out of this.”
His determination ignited a flicker of hope within me, but I couldn’t shake the heaviness that clung to me. What if our attempts to defy him only ended in further despair? The thought pressed down on me like the encroaching fog, suffocating and oppressive.
We stood on the edge of Tynon’s world, teetering between compliance and rebellion, and I knew that whatever path we chose, the consequences would be profound. " if we fight back...if we fight back he will kill us without thought. right now, even as we sit inside a meditative plane that is within our combined mind...i am still exposed to whatever is outside our head" i placed my head in my hands " i never even wanted this life..."
abraxes tapped my forehead and allowed me to return to my room away from the spiritual plane, humans could not be there long. it was a place for demons to exist.
I got out of bed, the cool air hitting my skin as I reached for my tight-fitting black cotton pants. They felt familiar and restrictive. After pulling them on, I grabbed my shirt, which had to be retied around my ribs to expose my belly. It was the only way it would fit properly without becoming a hazard during combat training.
Once that was settled, I slipped on my knee and elbow guards, each molded to my size and shape, providing a sense of security even as I grappled with the anxiety swirling in my chest. The guards felt heavy in a way that reassured me; they were a layer of protection against the world I was about to face. I tied on my belt, securing my sheaths in place—each one representing the skills I was expected to hone and master.
As I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but grimace at the reflection. The black fabric clung to me, a stark contrast to the colorful colors of the apothecry acadamy. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. Today wasn't just about donning this uniform; it was about stepping into a role that felt so foreign to me. I needed to remind myself that beneath this uniform I still had a choice—even if it felt buried deep within.
I felt like I was going to be sick as I slipped my daggers into each sheath around the back of my ribs, my thighs, and my waist. The familiar weight of the blades settled into place. My two swords, lightweight yet powerful, found their home across my back. They once belonged to my father, and in this moment, they felt like the only tangible piece of him I had left.
As I strapped them on, a part of me felt a bittersweet comfort. The swords were more than just weapons; they were a connection to the man who had shaped my family's path. in the dim light of the tower bedroom I stood there, every sheath and strap tightening around me,this uniform felt suffocating...much like the love my father expressed for me in his journal he left behind.
It felt right to keep these weapons as my own, to bear them with pride, but the war inside me raged on. I wanted to honor my father's memory while forging my own identity. With each dagger and sword that found its place, I grappled with the urge to throw them all to the ground and run. These blades, meant for taking life, clashed with my heart, which yearned to nurture and heal.
As I adjusted the weapons one last time, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a polished surface nearby. The stark black of my uniform clashed sharply against the gleam of my father’s swords. I looked like a warrior, yet inside, I felt anything but—lost, confused, and terrified of the path I was stepping onto. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself before turning to my bedroom door.
I stepped into the hallway, the musty scent of old stone mildew and moss enveloping me like a heavy cloak. The deep red carpet stretched along the floor, a stark contrast to the gray stone walls that surrounded me. As I walked further, it became apparent that I had been assigned to a section of the academy that carried a weight of its own—the Darksbane Wing.
Portraits of my ancestors lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow me, scrutinizing my every move. Each frame captured a figure cloaked in shadow, proud and formidable, bearing the legacy of a lineage steeped in secrecy and power. Their stern expressions felt like a silent admonishment, a reminder of the role I was meant and born to fulfill. I could almost hear their whispers: "What have you done to honor our name?"
The air grew heavier with the history that clung to the stones, and I felt the tightness in my chest return. Being a Darksbane was supposed to mean something great, yet all I felt was anxiety. I glanced at one of the portraits, a figure draped in dark attire, his eyes a piercing shade of blue that mirrored my own. He had achieved greatness, forged paths in the shadows, yet here I was, grappling with my insecurities and a sense of unfamiliarity with the very legacy he helped build. father.
As I made my way down the hall, the rich colors of the carpet seemed to fade under the weight of my thoughts. What would they think of me? A mere caretaker who found my place nurturing plants and reading books instead of thriving in the darker arts? I could almost hear their disdain echoing off the stone walls.
I stopped for a moment, closing my eyes and inhaling the damp, earthy scent that reminded me of home. Here, among these ancestral shadows, I felt small and lost...
The legacy they built was beautiful and terrifying, a tapestry interwoven with triumphs and defeats. But as I hovered in the doorway, I realized this was my legacy too, i needed only reach out and take it...accept who i am. i touched my fathers portrait reading the words egraved upon the bottom when the shadows bore down upon me striking my heart with terror i rose up and said i have no fear for the path i walk" no fear...i wish i was like you, im afraid of everything.
i did not hear his footsteps approaching i didnt see him come down the hallway at all. but here he was in all his beautiful glory, azune stone.
His face was cold as usual, but this time I couldn't help but appreciate the way his cut jawline and flawlessly shaped lips—albeit on the thinner side—caught the light. He glared down at me with that silver starlight gaze that seemed to penetrate my very being. "You're late, Darksbane. Look, I get that madness runs strong in your veins, but talking to paintings, man? That’s a new one. Do they respond back?"
His mockery stoked a fire of anger within me, and I clenched my fists, forcing myself to shove it down until it simmered in my stomach. I managed to grin at him through tight lips, the tension crackling in the air between us. “No, usually they just order me around. I guess they’re a lot like you, huh?”
The sharp retort hung in the space between us, my frustration a palpable force that made the air heavier. I met his gaze unwaveringly, daring him to push me further. There was something about this game between us that both infuriated and exhilarated me, like walking a tightrope over a yawning chasm.
Azune's eyes met mine with a challenge, narrowing as he said, "Shut up and do as you’re told, Darksbane. I get you think you’re goddamn royalty, but there are rules that must be followed. The Academy makes no exceptions for anyone, including you." He sneered before turning on his heel and disappearing into a shimmer of light.
I blinked, momentarily stunned. What just happened? The way he dismissed me, it felt like a punch to the gut. The shimmering image of him fading away left a strange heaviness in the air, mixing with the vibrant colors swirling around me.
As I stood there, confusion wrapped tightly around my thoughts. Who did he think he was? Sure, I carried my family’s name, but that didn't give him the right to treat me like this.
I sighed, feeling like I could breathe for the first time since I saw his beautiful face. I get that he was trying to kill me, but did he have to be so attractive? It was infuriating. Every time I locked eyes with him, a rush of conflicting emotions surged within me. There I was, trying to stay alive, and yet my thoughts kept drifting to the way his dark hair fell perfectly over his brow or the intensity of his gaze that seemed to pierce through me.
It was like a cruel joke—pursueing someone who looked like he walked straight out of my dreams. I shook my head, trying to discard the thoughts that threatened to distract me. I had to focus on survival, not fantasies about what a relationship with an assassin might look like. Every heartbeat was a reminder that he was dangerous, yet here i was practically drooling at the sight of him, pathetic
I had to keep reminding myself that I needed to stay on guard. Looks could be deceiving, and behind that handsome exterior lay someone trained to eliminate threats—like me. But how could I let go of the spark of curiosity that ignited each time we crossed paths? It was maddening.
I forced my attention back to the task at hand. I had to outsmart him. Looks aside, I couldn’t afford to let my feelings compromise my instincts. After all, beauty could easily conceal a deadly intent. And right now, the last thing i needed was a pretty distraction.
I headed down the stairs, keeping my gaze fixed on the floor as I made my way to the backyard. The trees loomed overhead, their branches creating a canopy that shielded most of the sunlight, casting a dim light over the clearing. I joined the rest of my class for combat pairings, feeling a mix of trepidation and resignation.
Sparring first thing in the morning? They really wanted us battle-ready. My heart raced as I surveyed the scene—students warming up, nervously chatting, each one eager to prove themselves. kaliegh stood by the edge of the chalk drawn circle in the center of the makeshift training area.
Kaleigh looked as though she was vibrating with excitement as I approached her. "You good?" I asked, a giggle escaping my lips. She looked back at me with a grin, her enthusiasm palpable.
"Hell yeah! For initiates, the first thing they like to test is our combat abilities. I’ve been waiting for this for what feels like an eternity..." Her smile faltered as she glanced at me, and the bright spark in her eyes dimmed.
"Shit, Kiri... I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. That must have sounded so insensitive."
I waved her off, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled in my stomach. "It's fine, really," I reassured her, though my heart felt heavy at the thought of what this training would entail. "You do your thing. I’m just...processing."
Kaleigh nodded, her expression softening with understanding. "I get it, you were never trained to fight."
I held my hand up, cutting her off. "I was not taught to kill. My grandfather made sure I could at least defend myself." I smiled, attempting to mask the trepidation bubbling beneath the surface.
But the truth was, as I watched the other students sparring with skill and confidence, a knot of fear tightened in my stomach. They moved with a fluidity that I could only dream of, their bodies honed and ready for the challenges ahead. My attempts at self-defense felt clumsy in comparison, and the realization that I was stepping into a world filled with lethal intent sent a shiver down my spine.
"Just remember," Kaleigh said, her voice steady, "it's not just about fighting. Everyone has their own strengths. You have your alchemy—your ability to nurture and heal. That’s powerful in its own right."
I nodded, trying to hold onto that hope, but the doubts gnawed at me. What good was healing when the world around me was built on shadows and blades? I lacked the confidence of my peers, the innate fire that drove them forward.
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