The sun had barely risen when the recruits assembled at the training grounds, the cold morning air biting at their exposed skin. The usual chatter that filled the air before drills was subdued, almost hesitant. Alyc felt the shift immediately. The way recruits stood just a little farther from her, how their eyes darted toward her but never quite met her gaze.

  They had seen what she did in the village. They had seen what she was capable of.

  Alyc rolled her shoulders, shaking out the stiffness from the previous day’s mission. Her muscles ached, but it was a welcome pain. The kind that reminded her she was getting stronger.

  Thomiskee stood at the centre of the field, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure against the early morning light. His expression was unreadable as his gaze swept over the recruits before settling, briefly, on Alyc.

  He said nothing, but the look alone was enough.

  “Today, we push harder,” Thomiskee announced. His deep voice carried over the field, commanding immediate attention. “You think yesterday was difficult? That was nothing. Strength isn’t built in comfort. It’s forged in fire.”

  Alyc’s fingers curled into fists at the word forged.

  “Pair off,” Thomiskee ordered. “One-on-one sparring. No wooden weapons this time. Just you, your fists, and your will.”

  The recruits moved quickly, finding their partners. Alyc turned, expecting Lef or Rebekka, but they were already partnered with others. Instead, a recruit she didn’t recognize stepped forward a tall, broadshouldered boy with sharp features and an uncertain look in his eyes.

  He hesitated before nodding. “I’ll spar with you.”

  Alyc tilted her head, watching the way his fingers twitched at his sides, the subtle shift in his stance like he was bracing for something.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, voice even.

  He swallowed hard but lifted his fists. “Yeah.”

  Alyc didn’t move immediately. She studied him, gauging the way his weight shifted between his feet. He was strong, but slow. A defensive fighter. The kind that lasted long in fights but rarely finished them quickly.

  She would finish this quickly.

  The signal was given. The recruit threw the first punch. Alyc sidestepped with ease, letting him overextend before slamming her palm into his exposed ribs. He gasped, stumbling back, but she didn’t give him a moment to recover.

  She stepped forward, feinting left before driving a knee into his stomach. He collapsed to one knee, coughing hard, clutching his side. Alyc didn’t wait. She moved like a shadow, her next strike already in motion before he could raise his guard. A sharp kick to the ribs sent him sprawling onto his back, breathless.

  “Enough.” Thomiskee’s voice rang across the field, but Alyc barely heard it, her blood still humming with adrenaline. She watched as the recruit rolled onto his side, groaning, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. He wasn’t getting back up.

  Around them, the other recruits had stopped sparring, eyes locked on Alyc. Some with awe. Others with unease.

  Lef muttered something under her breath. Rebekka’s expression was unreadable. Even Sol, who never missed an opportunity to gloat or make a sly remark, remained silent.

  Josepe grinned. “A storm is only feared when it rages.” Alyc flexed her fingers, exhaling through her nose.

  “That’s not sparring, Halcyon,” Thomiskee said, his

  gaze like stone.

  Alyc turned to him, her expression blank. “I won.”

  A muscle in Thomiskee’s jaw twitched. He motioned to one of the medics to help the recruit before addressing the rest of the group. “Break time’s over. Back to work.”

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  The training session resumed, but the air felt heavier. Alyc noticed the way the recruits gave her more space than before. Some subtle. Others more obvious. She didn’t care.

  By midday, training had shifted to endurance drills. Running laps around the training grounds, carrying weighted packs, pushing their bodies past exhaustion. The other recruits groaned, cursed under their breath, but Alyc kept running. She didn’t slow. Didn’t stop.

  She could hear Sammond’s voice in her head. Kings don’t listen to soldiers. They listen to warriors. She would make them listen.

  By the time Thomiskee called for a halt, Alyc barely felt winded. She turned to see her bunkmates Lef doubled over, hands on her knees, Rebekka stretching out her arms, Sol scowling at the dirt like it had personally offended him. Sammond, of course, was still standing, looking at her with something close to amusement.

  A few feet away, Josepe watched, tapping his fingers against his chin. “And so, the fire spreads. Will it warm, or will it burn?”

  Alyc ignored him. Thomiskee gathered the recruits, scanning the faces before him. His gaze lingered on Alyc for a second longer than necessary before he spoke.

  “This training is meant to test your limits,” he said, voice sharp. “But know this strength without control is a blade with no hilt. It will cut you as easily as it cuts your enemy.” Alyc met his stare without flinching Thomiskee’s stare was firm, unyielding, searching for some sign of understanding. Alyc gave him nothing.

  She wasn’t interested in control. She was interested in strength.

  The recruits were dismissed shortly after, some stumbling toward the water barrels, others dragging their feet back to the barracks. Alyc took her time, rolling the tension out of her shoulders, barely winded.

  She caught the way some of the recruits eyed her as she passed, the hushed conversations that stopped just as quickly as they started. It wasn’t admiration. Not like how warriors had spoken of her father in Emberfall. No, this was something else.

  Caution. Fear. She should’ve been satisfied. Instead, she felt nothing.

  Back in the barracks, Alyc dropped onto her bunk, running a cloth over her damp forehead. The others followed soon after, their conversation light, yet laced with something unfamiliar.

  “You almost killed that poor guy,” Rebekka muttered, collapsing onto her cot.

  “I won, that's all” Alyc replied, voice even.

  “You keep saying that” Lef said, sitting on the edge of her bunk, arms crossed. “Like it’s the only thing that matters.”

  “It is.” Silence.

  Rebekka shook her head, muttering under her breath before turning to Sol. “How’s your pride holding up?”

  Sol scoffed, stretching his arms. “I would’ve won that fight if I had been serious.” Rebekka smirked. “Sure, you would’ve.”

  The tension in the room lightened, but it wasn’t the same. Not like before. Josepe, still perched lazily on his bunk, grinned as if he found the whole thing amusing. “A fire left unchecked devours everything in its path.

  Even the ones who feed it.” Alyc turned away, uninterested.

  Only Sammond remained silent. He sat on his bunk across from her, watching her the way he always did, like he was waiting for something. After a moment, he leaned forward. “You don’t have to listen to Thomiskee.” Alyc raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I?”

  Sammond tilted his head slightly, smirking. “He’s a soldier. He fights battles in the name of others. You fight for yourself.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough for only her to hear. “That’s what makes you different.” Alyc held his gaze, her fingers curling tighter against the rough fabric of her blanket. His words settled deep, winding their way through her like roots searching for something to take hold of.

  She had always fought for herself. Even before Emberfall burned her name from its halls, before Selenia shaped her into something sharper. But the way Sammond said it like it was something to be proud of, something powerful made her pulse quicken.

  “And what do you fight for?” she asked, her voice low.

  Sammond’s smirk didn’t fade, but something in his eyes flickered. “For what’s necessary.”

  Alyc studied him for a moment longer, then looked away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what “necessary” meant to him.

  Across the room, Lef let out a long exhale, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of the day. “Tomorrow’s going to be worse,” she muttered. “I can already feel it.”

  Rebekka groaned, stretching her arms over her head.

  “I swear, if I have to listen to Thomiskee’s speeches about control one more time, I might throw myself into the training pit.”

  Sol chuckled, shaking his head. “Better that than getting flattened by Malice Alyc.” Alyc tensed.

  Rebekka smirked. “Malice Alyc. That’s what they’re calling you now.”

  Alyc let the name settle over her, cold and weightless. Malice.

  She should have ignored it. Should have dismissed it, told them to stop. But she didn’t. She let it stay.

  Josepe grinned, eyes glinting in the dim lantern light. “A name like that sticks. A name like that becomes legend.” Alyc said nothing.

  Lef scoffed, throwing her blanket over herself. “Whatever. Just don’t bring the whole barracks down with you next time.”

  Sammond leaned back against the wall, still watching Alyc. “Looks like you don’t have a choice in this one,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone. Alyc exhaled, shaking off the thought. “It’s late. Get some sleep.” One by one, the barracks fell into silence, the steady sound of deep breaths and shifting blankets filling the space.

  Alyc didn’t sleep.

  She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the echoes of the day still burning in her mind. The whispers. The fear.

  The way they had all watched her.

  She had wanted to be remembered. She had wanted to be stronger.

  Now, they weren’t seeing a recruit anymore. They were seeing Malice. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop them.