{Elira}
~**^**~
TUESDAY.
Rennon’s training mat slled faintly of sweat and oil. And the lights in the small hall made the dust in the air look like slow snow.
I tightened my fingers around the practice staff like it was the only steady thing left in .
Zenon stood by the doorway with folded arms and a set jaw while Lennon lounged near the far wall, watching with the sa hungry amusent he always had when sothing promised chaos.
Rennon, on the other hand, calmly motioned in close.
"Today I’m teaching you one thing you don’t want to rely on," he said, voice low. "But it may save you if everything else has failed."
Zenon’s nostrils flared. "If it fails, it will mark her. It’s a lazy trick—a cunning shortcut. I don’t approve of shortcuts that put the woman I claim at risk."
But Rennon didn’t look up. "Zenon, it’s not a shortcut if it spares lives. It’s a last-resort protocol. If a fight goes where you cannot afford mistakes, you need options."
Then he t my gaze. "Do you want to learn it, or not?"
I gulped as my skin still humd from yesterday’s fire, my hands still shook with the mory of losing myself.
"I want to know everything that might keep alive," I said at last.
Lennon cracked a grin. "Wise choice. Also, it’s wise to learn one on Zenon’s list of ’unsavoury tactics’, then he can complain while you don’t die."
Zenon’s mouth tightened, but he stepped aside. The unspoken permission hung heavily as Rennon turned fully to .
"This technique isn’t about brute force," he said. "It’s about precision and conservation. Think of it as a safety valve. Not to maim, but to force the body to sleep for a heartbeat, long enough for you to disengage or finish cleanly."
He took a breather and continued, "We call the places it targets acu clusters: small nodal points where one well-placed strike, paired with energy alignnt, can cause a temporary system reset. You will also learn to shield your own clusters because they are the most vulnerable thing you carry."
Then, he sank into a low stance and demonstrated slowly and deliberately, as if he were tracing a map.
"There are three clusters I will na for training: the Crown Cluster, the Anchor Cluster, and the Hollow Cluster. Each has a corresponding defensive posture you must adopt. You do not use these for glory. You use these to end a fight that has beco a threat to more than yourself."
He demonstrated the first defensive posture, showing how my shoulders should fold, how my chin should tuck, and how my breathing should be tid. It looked simple. It felt like learning a language with my muscles.
"Always protect your Anchor Cluster," Rennon said. "If the Anchor is exposed, an opponent can do what we just practised on them to you. A targeted strike can close down your lungs and affect your balance. You must learn to make the Anchor invisible; hands, hips, and breath, all line up to shield it."
Then he moved closer with open palms and guided my arms. His touch was firm but patient.
"Now we practice the defensive drills first. We never teach the offensive until your shielding is reflexive."
We ran through it: stances, rolls, the small pivots Rennon insisted on until my knees began to burn.
Lennon called out a rhythm, but between Rennon’s corrections and Zenon’s cold glare from the doorway, the hall felt like the size of a heartbeat.
When Rennon finally nodded in satisfaction, he shifted the lesson.
"If you must strike, let it not be about power; rather, it should be about timing and intent: strike and release. The point is to break cadence and unsettle the opponent’s rhythm. That’s what creates the blackout, not brute impact or savagery."
He looked at like he was teaching to hold a newborn bird. "Do you understand?"
"I think so," I breathed. My limbs were lead; my mind snagged on the mory of flas and Lennon’s laughter. "I’m scared of using it."
"Good," Rennon said simply. "Fear keeps care in your hands. Complacency is what kills."
Next, he had spar at half-speed against Lennon. Lennon pushed to test the edge. When a mont opened, Rennon had try the pattern: the defensive tuck, the pivot to shift weight, the gentle snap of intent.
My hand movent was quick, just as Rennon had taught it: precise, almost surgical. In the drill, it felt like tapping the wing of a sleeping thing.
"Last resort," Rennon repeated as Lennon clapped and bounced back up. "You use this when you can’t outlast them, when the risk of staying in the fight is greater than the cost of using the technique."
Just then, Zenon walked to the mat and watched as I sat on the floor, all sweaty. His voice, when it ca, was low and edged.
"If you use this technique in the contest, you will be observed. This particular move, if reported and misused, will give our enemies reasons to mark you and track you. You must be beyond convinced that it is necessary."
I closed my eyes and saw the fire’s arc again: hot, tacky, hungry. The idea of adding an unseen button I could press to make soone sleep frightened almost as much as it reassured .
Rennon crouched to my level and steadied my chin with his two fingers.
"You have weapons you were born with now," he said. "But your intelligence, restraint, and the people who stand with you are the real advantage. Learn this technique so you can choose not to use it. Let it be the last thing you consider."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Lennon, watching, gave a softer smile than he had throughout the entire training.
"And if all else fails," he said, "we will make sure you have a plan C."
Zenon’s final words were colder, but not without care. "Practice the shields until they co without thought."
---
A few minutes later, I was permitted to leave the training hall, my mind overturning everything I had been taught inside.
The hum of students in the hallway was just background noise until a profile ahead of made my breath hitch.
That face again?
It was the third ti I had caught a glimpse since stepping into ESA. The familiar curve of a jaw, the tilt of a nose that stirred sothing half-buried in mory.
My heart stumbled into a faster rhythm, and before I realized it I was whispering her na.
"Erica?"
The girl ahead of slowed but didn’t turn. The hesitation was enough to send forward, my pulse pounding harder with every step until I slipped in front of her.
And then she raised her gaze.
Instantly, the air in my lungs locked tight.
"Erica..." The word fell out, small, uncertain because it was really her. My cousin. The one I hadn’t seen in years—my father and Uncle Marc’s sister’s daughter.
I couldn’t believe it. Of all the places... she had been here at ESA all this ti, and I hadn’t known. Uncle Marc had never said a word about it.
Erica’s expression didn’t shift into surprise or warmth. Her voice was steady, almost cool. "Elira."
"You—You are here?" My words stumbled over themselves. "Why didn’t anyone tell ? I had no idea you were attending ESA. Did you know I was here?"
Her mouth twitched into sothing farther from a smile. "How could I not? You’ve been making waves—the famous little oga everyone whispers about. And when your favourite cousin and her friends humiliated you before you were rescued? That story made it all the way to Moon’s Whisper blog, you know."
Her emphasis on ’my favourite cousin’ struck like a slap to my face. She was mocking with the truth I couldn’t deny—that when we were younger, I would always blindly trail after Regina and leave her behind.
I opened my mouth, but she had already started walking away in clipped steps.
"Wait!" My voice ca out sharper than I intended as I hurried after her. "At least let get your contact."
She stopped just long enough to glance over her shoulder. "You don’t need it."
Sothing pinched hard in my chest. Still, I pressed. "What if I want to find you? How would I do that?"
Erica’s eyes narrowed, her tone turning colder. "And why would you want to find , Elira? Do we have any business together?"
Her words lingered like frost in the air, as I was caught between the warmth of recognition and the chill of rejection.
And in that mont, I stood rooted to the spot, watching her walk away. The ache in my chest was sharp, but not unexpected.
Erica had always been this way—distant and reserved. She was soone who had never ward easily, especially beside Regina’s brightness and my own blind loyalty.
And though the sting lingered, I couldn’t bring myself to bla her.
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