The frost clung to the morning air as recruits gathered on the training grounds, their breaths rising in thin wisps beneath the pale light of the twin moons. The last five months had been brutal gruelling exercises, relentless drills, and endless challenges meant to break the weak and forge the strong.

  Alyc had endured it all. Now, standing in formation, her muscles coiled like a drawn bowstring, she listened as General Thomiskee paced before them, his sharp eyes sweeping over the ranks of recruits. “Today,” Thomiskee announced, his voice a low growl, “we separate the competent from the exceptional.”

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Alyc remained silent, her mismatched eyes locked on the general.

  “This exercise isn’t about following orders. It’s about proving yourselves,” Thomiskee continued. “You’ve trained for months now; you fight for a mission. The winning barracks will be sent beyond these walls, tasked with a real assignment. No practice dummies. No instructors to save you. Just your skills, your instincts, and your ability to work as a team.”

  Alyc felt a familiar rush of anticipation. A mission. Finally.

  Thomiskee’s lips curled into something resembling a smirk. “The scenario is simple. A siege. One team will defend. One will attack. The victors will be the barracks that break their enemy first.”

  The recruits straightened, tension crackling in the cold morning air.

  He gestured to a towering structure at the edge of the field a fortress of reinforced wood and stone, lined with battlements and a single heavy gate.

  “The fortress represents a key Selenian stronghold,” Thomiskee explained. “One team holds it. The other must take it.” His gaze darkened. “By any means necessary.”

  Alyc’s heart pounded, her fingers curling into fists. No restrictions. No limits. Sammond, standing beside her, exhaled sharply. “This will be interesting.” Thomiskee called out the assignments.

  Barracks Three Alyc’s group would be the attackers. A slow smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She preferred being on the offensive. The recruits split into their assigned roles, moving quickly to prepare for the siege. Barracks Three Alyc, Sammond, Josepe, Lef, Rebekka, and Sol gathered near the designated attacker’s base, a stretch of open field leading up to the wooden fortress.

  Across from them, Barracks Four took their positions atop the fortress walls, already setting up makeshift defences. Their leader, a stocky recruit named Varek, called out orders as his team secured the gates and readied their wooden weapons.

  Alyc barely paid them any mind. She wasn’t planning to use a weapon. As the defenders braced for impact, General Thomiskee raised his arm, signalling the start of the battle. “Attackers, begin the siege!” A horn blasted through the air. The recruits surged forward.

  Alyc sprinted at the head of her group, her speed unmatched. Most recruits still had their wooden weapons strapped to their backs, waiting to close the distance. Not her. She was the weapon. As arrows tipped with cloth dummies rained down from the fortress walls, Alyc dodged effortlessly, moving like a shadow through the chaos. She heard Sammond swearing behind her, saw Sol lagging slightly as he calculated his next move, but she didn’t wait for them.

  The first defender met her just outside the gate a broad-shouldered boy gripping a wooden staff. He swung without hesitation. Alyc ducked at the last second, sweeping his legs from beneath him before slamming an elbow into his ribs as he fell.

  She didn’t stop moving. Another defender leaped down from the wall, hoping to catch her off guard. Alyc twisted mid-step, grabbing him by the tunic and slamming him into the mud before continuing forward.

  Behind her, Barracks Three fought their way toward the fortress, but Alyc was the storm tearing through the front lines.

  A wooden sword aimed for her shoulder. She sidestepped. A staff jabbed toward her gut. She twisted and snapped it in half with a strike of her forearm.

  By the time the rest of her team reached the fortress gates, Alyc had already disabled half a dozen defenders and not a single one had touched her.

  Sammond caught up to her, breathing heavily as he surveyed the wreckage she left in her wake. "You know, you can use a weapon," he muttered, stepping over one of the groaning defenders sprawled in the dirt.

  Alyc didn’t respond. Her mismatched eyes were already locked on the fortress gates their next obstacle.

  Lef and Rebekka arrived next, their weapons raised, though neither had needed to use them much thanks to Alyc’s path of destruction. Sol, slightly winded, caught up last, looking half-impressed and half-annoyed.

  "Remind me not to get on your bad side," he muttered.

  Josepe, who had been uncharacteristically quiet as he moved through the battlefield, perched himself atop a fallen defender and grinned at Alyc. “The flame does not wield a blade, yet still it burns.” Alyc ignored him.

  The fortress loomed before them. The last real obstacle.

  Varek, the leader of Barracks Four, stood atop the walls, gripping a large wooden shield as he watched Alyc’s team gather below.

  “You’re good,” he called down. “But you’re not getting past these gates.” Alyc took a slow breath, stepping forward.

  "We'll see about that." A flurry of arrows rained down from the walls, but Barracks Three was ready. Lef raised her shield, deflecting the incoming shots as Rebekka and Sol pushed forward.

  Sammond glanced at Alyc. “Got a plan?”

  Alyc’s eyes flickered toward the reinforced wooden gates. "I'm going through."

  Sammond hesitated. "...Through?"

  Before he could argue, Alyc took off at a dead sprint.

  She leaped onto a stack of barrels, kicking off with inhuman force. As an arrow barely missed her shoulder, she grabbed the edge of the battlements and hauled herself over the wall.

  For a split second, the defenders froze in shock.

  Then, she moved. Alyc landed in the middle of them like a wolf in a pen of sheep.

  The first defender lunged she twisted, slamming a palm strike into his chest that sent him stumbling into two others.

  Another swung at her with a wooden axe she ducked, caught his wrist, and flipped him onto his back.

  Varek cursed and charged with his shield raised. Alyc sidestepped, slammed her foot into his knee, and Varek crashed to the ground, his shield skidding across the wooden planks of the fortress wall. He groaned, struggling to rise, but Alyc had already turned her attention to the next opponent.

  A defender swung a club at her ribs she caught his wrist, twisted, and sent him tumbling over the battlements with a pained shout.

  Another came at her with a wooden spear, lunging for her midsection. Alyc dodged just enough for the tip to miss her, then stepped inside his guard, delivering a brutal knee to his stomach. The air left his lungs in a gasp before she shoved him back against the wall.

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  She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t stop moving.

  The defenders of Barracks Four were falling apart, their formations breaking as Alyc tore through them with nothing but her hands.

  Then, below her, a loud crack split the air.

  She looked down just in time to see Lef and Rebekka smashing through the fortress gates, their combined strength forcing the wooden structure to split at the seams. Sammond and Sol followed, leading the rest of Barracks Three inside.

  Varek, still dazed on the ground, let out a frustrated growl. “We’re not finished yet!” Alyc’s expression remained cold.

  “Yes, we are.”

  She grabbed the fortress flag the symbol of their control and tore it down in one sharp motion. Silence hung in the air for a moment as Alyc held the fortress flag in her grasp, the torn fabric fluttering in the cold wind.

  Then, a horn blasted signalling the end of the siege.

  Alyc tossed the flag onto the wooden planks at her feet, her breath steady despite the chaos she had just unleashed. Around her, the remaining defenders of Barracks Four either lay groaning on the ground or stood frozen in stunned silence. Below, in the courtyard, Barracks Three erupted in cheers. They had won. Lef clapped Rebekka on the back, while Sol ran a hand through his hair, his smirk laced with exhaustion. Sammond, ever composed, just exhaled and looked up at Alyc. She hadn’t been touched. Not once. And they had all seen it. Thomiskee strode onto the battlefield, his massive frame moving with practiced ease as he surveyed the scene. His sharp eyes settled on Alyc first. "That," he rumbled, "was something else." As the recruits gathered in the centre of the training grounds, the murmurs began. "Did you see her?" "She didn’t even use a weapon." "She was relentless." "Like a storm. No worse than that."

  "Like pure malice." Alyc ignored the whispers. She didn’t care what they called her.

  But then Josepe perched lazily on a broken training post grinned. "A beast without fangs, a flame that does not wield a blade, yet still it burns," he mused. His dark eyes flicked to Alyc. "Malice. Malice Alyc." Sammond smirked, folding his arms. "Fitting, don’t you think?"

  Rebekka let out a low whistle. "Yeah… I like it." Lef simply nodded in approval. Even Sol, for all his arrogance, tilted his head in consideration before giving a short laugh.

  Alyc, still catching her breath, said nothing.

  She didn't need to. The name had already taken hold.

  Thomiskee crossed his arms as he studied Barracks Three. "You all impressed me today," he said. "Some of you more than others." His gaze flickered toward Alyc before moving on.

  "As promised, the winners of this siege exercise will receive an assignment beyond Selenia’s walls." The air shifted. The recruits tensed. "Tomorrow morning, you leave for a small farming village under siege. A group of raiders has taken control, terrorizing the people. Your job? Eliminate the threat." Alyc’s fingers curled into fists at the word raiders.

  She didn't know why, but the thought of these men hurting innocent people sent something cold curling into her gut.

  She wanted to face them. To crush them. To prove, once again, that she wasn’t weak.

  Thomiskee gave a sharp nod. "Rest while you can. You ride at dawn." Alyc barely stepped through the barracks doors before she felt it. The weight of eyes. The silence that stretched too long between conversations.

  The way recruits shuffled aside as she passed.

  Word had spread.

  She made her way to her bunk, her movements deliberate, controlled. She had felt this before whispers in Emberfall’s halls, warriors speaking her father’s name with reverence. But this? This was different. Her name wasn’t spoken with admiration. It was muttered in hushed tones, laced with caution.

  She didn’t care.

  Lef and Rebekka were at the far end of the room, speaking in low voices. When Alyc met Lef’s gaze, the taller woman held it for a moment before looking away. Rebekka, ever the easy-going one, forced a smile. "Looks like someone’s infamous now." Alyc said nothing.

  Josepe perched on his bunk, grinning. "Fire runs wild or burns controlled but either way, it leaves its mark." Sol scoffed. “I think he means, you’ve made an impression.”

  “Good.” Alyc tossed her cloak onto her bunk. “I didn’t come here to be forgotten.” Silence.

  Then, the door slammed open. Thomiskee strode in, his towering presence immediately drawing every recruit to attention. His gaze landed on Alyc, sharp as a blade. "Outside. Now." Alyc followed him, stepping into the crisp night air. The training grounds were empty, torches flickering in the cold breeze.

  Thomiskee turned, arms crossed. “You saved that village.”

  Alyc kept her face unreadable. “Yes.”

  “You did it alone.” She nodded. His expression hardened. “That’s not how we fight.” Alyc’s jaw tightened.

  “It worked.”

  His eyes narrowed. “This isn’t about what worked.” He stepped closer. “You were reckless. You abandoned the plan. You made your team a liability.” “They caught up.” “You’re not listening.” His voice dropped lower, heavier. “There’s a difference between being a warrior and being a leader. Right now, you’re neither.” The words should have stung. They didn’t.

  Alyc didn’t flinch. “I did what had to be done.”

  Thomiskee exhaled sharply, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Get some rest. You train at dawn.” She didn’t argue.

  Back in the barracks, the conversation had resumed in muted tones. Alyc sat on her bunk, pulling off her boots. A shadow moved beside her. Sammond. He dropped onto the bunk across from her, studying her like he was waiting for something. “You don’t have to listen to him,” he finally said. Alyc raised an eyebrow. “I don’t?” Sammond leaned forward, his voice quieter, meant only for her. “Thomiskee is a soldier. Soldiers follow orders, stay in line, fight their battles with restraint.” His green eyes glinted. “But kings? They don’t listen to soldiers. They listen to warriors.”

  Alyc frowned. “Selenia doesn’t need another recruit,” Sammond continued. “It needs someone who can make kings listen.” Her fingers curled against her knee. The thought settled into her mind, twisting into something familiar.

  Her father had been loyal to a king. A king who had repaid him in blood. She wasn’t a soldier. She would never bow again. Alyc exhaled slowly. “Then I’ll give them someone worth listening to.” Sammond grinned. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

  From that night forward, Alyc fought differently. She wasn’t trying to prove herself. She was trying to dominate. And Selenia was starting to notice.

  The next morning, Alyc stood at the centre of the training grounds, her muscles still aching from the previous day’s mission. Thomiskee’s warning echoed in her mind, but so did Sammond’s words.

  She wasn’t here to be a soldier.

  She was here to be feared.

  The recruits lined up for the morning drills, a few casting quick glances at her before looking away. Even Lef and Rebekka kept their distance. Josepe, as usual, muttered some cryptic riddle under his breath, but Alyc barely registered it.

  Thomiskee paced before them, his deep voice carrying over the field. “Strength means nothing if you cannot control it. Power is wasted on those who do not know when to wield it.” His gaze settled on Alyc, just for a moment, before he turned to the rest of the recruits. “Pair off. One-on-one combat. Show me what you’ve learned.”

  The recruits scattered, finding partners. Alyc found herself across from Lef, the tall warrior sizing her up with careful eyes.

  “Are you going to fight,” Lef asked, “or are you just going to break me in half?”

  Alyc smirked. “Depends on how well you hold your ground.”

  Lef exhaled sharply, then launched her attack.

  She was strong stronger than most. But Alyc was faster.

  Lef struck with a downward slash, aiming to put Alyc on the defensive. Alyc sidestepped, twisting around Lef’s strike before shoving her shoulder-first into the dirt.

  Lef barely hit the ground before she was rolling to her feet. She attacked again, her movements sharper now, more calculated. Alyc deflected each blow, barely moving her feet, her expression unreadable.

  “Fight back,” Lef growled, irritation bleeding into her voice.

  Alyc smirked. “I am.”

  Lef swung hard, but Alyc stepped into the attack at the last second, catching Lef’s wrist mid-motion. With a sharp twist, she sent the taller woman sprawling to the ground again. A brief silence followed.

  Then, from the edge of the field, Sol whistled. “Well, that’s just embarrassing.”

  Lef pushed herself up, shaking dirt from her arms.

  But she wasn’t angry. If anything, she looked resigned. “I get it now,” she muttered. “You don’t fight. You end fights.”

  Alyc tilted her head. “If that’s what it takes.”

  Thomiskee watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. But he made no comment as he moved on to evaluate the other fights.

  As the training session ended, the recruits gathered at the water station, some still catching their breath, others grumbling about their losses. Alyc poured cold water over the back of her neck, her body thrumming with energy.

  “Malice,” someone muttered under their breath.

  She looked up.

  It was one of the recruits from another barracks. He wasn’t mocking her. If anything, there was a strange sort of awe in his voice.

  “Malice Alyc.”

  The name spread. First through whispers. Then louder, as if the recruits were testing the words.

  She should have dismissed it. Should have ignored them.

  But she didn’t. She let it settle over her like armour, a new title forging itself into her identity. Malice Alyc. She could live with that. The barracks were quieter than usual. Rebekka was sharpening her dagger, Sol was bragging about something, and Josepe was well, being Josepe. Sammond sat on his bunk across from Alyc, watching her with an amused expression. “You hear them today?” he asked. Alyc glanced up. “The recruits.” Sammond leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “They gave you a name.” Alyc said nothing. “You don’t seem to mind.” She met his gaze. “Should I?”

  Sammond smirked. “No. You earned it.” There was something in his voice something knowing.

  Alyc didn’t look away. Neither did he. She exhaled slowly and stood, pulling her blanket over her shoulders. “Get some sleep, Sammond.”

  He watched her for a moment longer before reclining against his bunk. “Tomorrow, we make them remember it.”

  Alyc lay down, staring at the ceiling.

  Malice Alyc. Tomorrow, she would make sure it stuck.