Alyc woke with a sharp inhale, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Her hand instinctively went to Firefang at her side, her fingers gripping the hilt as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. The lingering echoes of the nightmare clung to her mind the table, the faces, her father’s voice whispering, It’s your choice, Alyc. A warm hand touched her shoulder. “It’s just a dream.” Sammond’s voice was quiet but firm, his green eyes watching her with something close to understanding. Alyc exhaled through her nose, nodding as she willed herself to calm down. “Get ready,” Sammond continued, pulling his hand back and leaning against the bunk post. “We’re heading to the training grounds soon.”

  Alyc ran a hand down her face, pushing away the last remnants of sleep. The others were beginning to stir, groaning and stretching as the barracks came to life with the early morning chill.

  Josepe was the first out of bed, flipping onto his feet with a grin. “A new day dawns, and with it, the forging of blades or the breaking of bones. Which will it be, I wonder?”

  Lef rolled her eyes, already tying her boots with sharp, efficient movements. “Hopefully not yours.”

  Rebekka chuckled as she ran a hand through her hair. “Try to keep up today, boys.”

  Sol stretched with an exaggerated yawn, flashing his usual smirk. “Don’t worry about me. I’d be more concerned about our two newest additions.” He shot a glance at Alyc and Sammond.

  Alyc didn’t respond, instead tightening her bracers and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. She didn’t care about their jokes. She was here for one reason to become stronger.

  The six of them left the barracks together, the crisp morning air biting at their exposed skin. Alyc found herself noticing details about Selenia now that she wasn’t preoccupied with her thoughts. The city had a simple yet elegant beauty smooth white stone structures and arching bridges of Glass Iron reflecting the soft glow of the twin moons still faint in the sky. Everything was precise, balanced, as if crafted with an intentional harmony Emberfall lacked. Despite herself, she found it… calming. Their short walk led them to the training grounds, a massive circular expanse of stone and packed dirt surrounded by towering white pillars. The area was already filled with recruits at least a hundred of them forming a loose circle around a single figure in the center.

  General Thomiskee stood tall, his broad frame commanding the attention of everyone present. His thick cloak barely shifted in the morning breeze, his presence as solid as the walls of Selenia itself. His booming voice cut through the murmurs of the gathered recruits.

  “Welcome, recruits! Today marks the beginning of six months that will test your body, mind, and spirit.” He paced within the circle, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. “You are not here to warm beds in a barracks. You are here because you want to be warriors because you want to be more. “The murmur of recruits quieted, all eyes locked on him. “These six months are your proving ground,” Thomiskee continued. “The militia is only one path. But if you have the skill, the heart, and the resilience, you may earn a place among one of Selenia’s five divisions.” He let the weight of his words settle before continuing. “But make no mistake. There are no guarantees. If you think you’ve trained before, forget it. If you believe yourself skilled, prepare to be humbled.

  The weak will falter, and only the worthy will rise.”

  Alyc felt the tension ripple through the recruits, some shifting nervously, others straightening with determination. She simply exhaled, hands clenched at her sides. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t here to falter. “Enough standing around,” Thomiskee barked. “Let’s begin.”

  The recruits were split into groups and sent to different stations. Alyc and her bunkmates were placed together, each of them casting subtle glances at the other. No one wanted to be the first to fall behind.

  The morning started with endurance training grueling laps around the training grounds, each step made heavier by the cold Selenian air biting at their lungs. The recruits moved as a unit, their breath forming misty clouds as they pushed forward. Alyc quickly pulled ahead, her strides steady, her focus unshaken. Lef and Sol kept pace with her, their expressions unreadable but determined. Josepe, despite his wiry frame, moved with surprising speed, though his breathless laughter made it unclear whether he was pushing himself or simply enjoying the pain. “A race without a finish line,” he mused between strides. “Tell me, what’s the point of winning? Alyc ignored him, her mind solely on the next step, the next breath. The first recruits started to lag behind, some stumbling, others doubling over in exhaustion. Thomiskee’s voice thundered through the grounds. “No stopping! No weakness! If you can’t keep up, you don’t belong here! “One by one, bodies dropped from the formation. Alyc refused to be one of them. After what felt like an eternity, Thomiskee finally called an end to the run. The recruits collapsed where they stood, panting, some groaning in exhaustion. Alyc stayed on her feet. She wiped the sweat from her brow, heart pounding but steady. Sammond came up beside her, smirking. “Not bad. “She glanced at him. “You’re out of breath.” So are you,” he shot back, grinning. Before she could respond, Thomiskee clapped his hands, calling them to the next station. Strength training. The recruits were led to a section of the grounds where weighted logs, stone slabs, and training dummies waited. Thomiskee motioned to the recruits. “The battlefield doesn’t care how tired you are. You will build the strength to carry armor, weapons, and wounded allies. You will learn to push forward even when every muscle in your body begs you to stop. Alyc gritted her teeth. This was where she would prove herself. The first test was carrying a weighted log across the field and back. Some recruits barely managed a few steps before their knees buckled, while others trudged forward with grim determination. Alyc hoisted her log onto her shoulders, adjusting to its crushing weight. It pressed against her spine, her muscles burning instantly, but she set her jaw and moved.

  Lef was one of the few who kept pace with her, her powerful frame built for the task. Sol struggled at first but quickly found his rhythm. Rebekka grunted with effort, her usually playful demeanor absent as she pushed forward. Sammond moved with controlled ease, though sweat dripped from his brow.

  Josepe, to no one’s surprise, carried his log while humming some nonsensical tune. “A burden is only heavy if you let it be,” he mused. “Or maybe it’s just heavy.” Alyc ignored him. Step after step, she focused on the rhythm of her breathing, forcing herself forward despite the growing fire in her legs. Halfway across the field, she spotted recruits ahead of her dropping their logs, some collapsing from sheer exhaustion. The moment one fell, instructors swarmed in, barking orders for them to stand or be disqualified from training.

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  Not me, Alyc thought. She pushed harder. She reached the far end of the field, turned, and started the grueling march back. Her shoulders ached, her arms trembled, but she didn’t slow. Lef finished just ahead of her, lowering her log with a deep breath. Sol followed, shaking out his arms, while Rebekka barely managed to stay upright. Sammond arrived next, setting his log down without a word. Josepe somehow finished last, smiling as he let his log thud against the dirt. “Not bad for a morning stroll.” Thomiskee’s booming voice rang out. “Again!” Alyc’s muscles screamed in protest, but she obeyed.

  By midday, the recruits were battered, bruised, and drenched in sweat. After hours of drills combat stance corrections, weapon drills, and endurance exercises Alyc found herself at the final task of the day: sparring. Pairs formed across the training ground. Alyc barely had time to breathe before she was matched against Sol.

  He smirked, rolling his shoulders as he took his stance. “Don’t take it personally when I win.” Alyc said nothing. The moment the signal was given, Sol lunged, his blade aiming for a quick, controlled strike. Alyc sidestepped, parrying with brutal precision. The force of her block nearly knocked Sol off balance. He recovered fast, but Alyc didn’t give him time to reset. She stepped forward, her blade slicing through the air in a relentless assault. Sol barely managed to parry, his smirk replaced by focused determination as he backpedaled. The other recruits stopped their own matches, drawn to the ferocity of Alyc’s attacks. She struck with controlled but overwhelming force, driving Sol back step by step. He tried to counter, slipping past her guard with a swift feint, but Alyc twisted her blade and deflected his strike with a sharp clang of steel. Then she hit him. Alyc pivoted on her heel, slamming the hilt of her training sword into Sol’s ribs with enough force to send him stumbling. He gasped, his stance breaking, and Alyc wasted no time. She swept his legs out from under him, and before he could react, she was on top of him, her sword pressed to his throat. A heavy silence followed. Sol coughed, blinking up at her. “Alright. That was unexpected.”

  Alyc’s breathing was steady, her grip on her sword unshaken. For a moment, she considered pressing the blade harder just to prove a point. But then she caught Sammond watching her from the side, his expression unreadable. Slowly, she pulled back, stepping off Sol and lowering her weapon. The recruits whispered amongst themselves. “That was brutal.” “She fights like a wild beast.” “She fights like she’s trying to hurt someone.” Alyc turned away, ignoring them, but the murmurs continued.

  Thomiskee watched her closely before nodding in approval. “That’s enough for today. You all survived, which is more than I expected.” His gaze swept across the recruits before settling on Alyc for a brief moment. “Dismissed.” The recruits exhaled in relief. Some limped back toward the barracks, others lingered to talk about the day’s training. Alyc wiped the sweat from her brow and turned toward Sammond, who was already walking beside her.

  “You’re going to get a reputation at this rate,” he said. Alyc scoffed. “I don’t care.”

  As they approached their barracks, Josepe strolled beside them, grinning as always. “Malice Alyc,” he mused, his voice singsong. “A name born of fire and fury.”

  Alyc shot him a glare. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Josepe said innocently. “Only that when people speak of you, it won’t be with indifference.” She rolled her eyes, stepping into the barracks.

  The others followed, talking amongst themselves as they sat down for dinner. Rebekka teased Sol for his loss, Lef simply ate in silence, and Josepe, as always, spoke in riddles. Alyc kept to herself, only responding when Sammond spoke.

  As the meal ended and recruits began turning in, Sammond leaned toward Alyc. “That dream of yours… Did you see anything new?”

  Alyc hesitated. She hadn’t told him everything, not the part where Durk’s voice whispered, "It’s your choice."

  She toyed with her food, pushing a piece of bread around her plate, her appetite long gone. “No,” she lied, keeping her voice even. “It was the same.”

  Sammond studied her for a moment, his green eyes sharp, as if he could see through her. But instead of pressing, he leaned back against his bunk with a sigh. “Dreams have meaning, Alyc,” he said, his voice quiet enough that only she could hear. “Sometimes they show us things we don’t want to face.”

  Alyc clenched her jaw, refusing to meet his gaze. “It was just a dream.”

  “Maybe.” Sammond didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop. “Either way, you should get some sleep. Today was just the beginning.”

  She nodded absently and stood, walking toward her bunk. The others were already settling in Lef sitting on the edge of her bed sharpening a knife, Sol still grumbling about his loss, Rebekka laughing at his bruised ego, and Josepe muttering something about fire and shadows.

  Alyc climbed onto her bunk, her body sore but her mind restless. She turned away from the others, facing the wall, and shut her eyes.

  But sleep didn’t come easily. And when it did, the nightmare returned.

  The laughter, the feast, the warmth of the fire only to be replaced by creeping darkness. The faces of the Emberfall competitors turned hollow and cold, their voices whispering accusations.

  Avenge us, Alyc. Her grip tightened around Firefang as she stood at the head of the table. The bodies of her comrades lay sprawled before her, their blood pooling across the stone.

  Only one remained. Durk. He sat there, calm, unmoving. His expression unreadable as he stared at her. Firefang was in her hand, its blade glinting in the dim light.

  Alyc’s breath was ragged, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. But her body moved anyway.

  She raised the blade, her hands steady despite the terror clawing at her mind. The whispering grew louder, urging her forward.

  Durk didn’t react. He simply watched.

  Then, as she pressed the tip of Firefang against his chest, "It's your choice Alyc". The world shattered. Alyc gasped awake, her body jolting upright, drenched in sweat. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps. The barracks were dark, the only sound the quiet breathing of her bunkmates.

  A shadow moved beside her. Sammond. He sat up on his own bunk, watching her carefully. “The dream again?” he whispered. Alyc swallowed hard, her throat dry. She could still hear her father’s voice, echoing in her skull. It’s your choice, Alyc. She forced a nod, her fingers gripping the blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white. Sammond’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he sighed. “Try to get some rest,” he murmured. “Tomorrow will be even harder.” Alyc didn’t respond. Because deep down, she knew rest wasn’t coming tonight.

  She lay back down, staring at the ceiling, her heartbeat drumming in her ears. The barracks were silent save for the occasional shifting of blankets and the slow, steady breaths of the other recruits. But Alyc was still caught in the dream, her father’s words like a splinter in her mind. It’s your choice, Alyc. What did it mean? Why did she keep waking before she could make it? She turned onto her side, facing the wall, willing herself to let the exhaustion take her. Her muscles ached from the day’s brutal training, her body desperate for rest. But her mind refused to quiet.

  Somewhere in the room, Josepe muttered something in his sleep a string of words that made no sense but sent an eerie shiver down her spine. “The fire flickers… but does it burn to light the path, or scorch it beyond repair?” Alyc frowned, squeezing her eyes shut. She wasn’t about to let a lunatic’s riddles get into her head.

  Minutes passed, maybe hours, before her body finally gave in.