Ashes of the Elite Chapter 12: Train me?

Cain swirls the wine in his glass the amount dangerously low. He finally speaks "But you don't know how to control it, do you?"

I huff out a breath, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. "Not even a little."

"Figured as much. It's different for every Elite the trigger, I an. So find the way to control their power through instinct, others through trail and error. And so never" he says slowly as he downs the rest of his wine, giving his cup a look of sadness as if he cant believe he ran out.

I roll my eyes at his words. "And let guess, you're not going to tell how yours works, are you?"

Cain just winks. "You'll find out soon enough no need to spoil the fun."

I narrow my eyes. "That's not ominous at all."

Before I can press further, he leans back in his chair and stretches, his expression shifting from teasing to sothing more serious. "You'll be training with in preparation for the Academy."

I go completely still, my stomach dropping like a lead weight.

The Academy. I forgot about that shithole. Forgot I was going to be sent there if chosen to bear a mark of power.

I don't even realize I've tensed until Cain waves a dismissive hand, his tone casual, like we're discussing the weather. "Relax. The Academy gathers new Elites once a year, always in the twelfth month, in the capital, Lusa. Elites are too rare to train in small numbers. They wait until there's a sizable enough group to make it worth the effort." He pauses, takes another sip of his wine, and then, in that sa casual tone, adds, "Especially since so tend to die."

I blink in horror. "So?"

He shrugs. "Training accidents, duels gone wrong, unfortunate...weaknesses. Not everyone who gets a mark was necessarily ant to have one."

I scoff, shaking my head. "Not ant to have them? Isn't the entire point of the Rite of Manifestation is that its the Gods choosing their chosen champions? That's literally what is preached"

Cain chuckles, but there's a slight edge to it now, his usual teasing laced with sothing dark. "Sure, sure," he drawls sarcastically. Then, he lifts his gaze to mine, and for the first ti since I t him, there's sothing harsh in his expression. "If you really think that."

I just look at him in confusion. I don't get Cain at all. One second he's praising the system as if it was his duty to now coming extrely close to sounding like .

"But enough of that" he says his voice once again laced with his ever present amusent.

"Nine months," Cain muses. "Nine months until the summons to the capital arrives for you. And by then, word of the historic three-mark bearer will have already reached their ears."

"Great. Sounds like an absolute blast," I mutter.

Cain just chuckles. "You'll be fine. That's what I'm here for."

I glance at him warily. "Forgive if that doesn't exactly fill with confidence."

Cain ignores that comnt. "The Rite of Manifestation happens every month across every city in the Empire. Across all six nations that fly the Imperial flag." He leans forward now, resting his elbows on the desk. "But in the twelfth month? Every newly awakened Elite is sent to Lusa, the capital here in Avrael the ho of the Imperial family, they are all sent here to forge their path at the Academy. The grouping size varies, but, he pauses, it's typically around 400 elites every year." His bright blue eyes lock onto mine, sharp and unreadable. "And I'm going to make sure you survive it.

I narrow my eyes at him, arms crossed as I lean back in my chair once again. "Alright, humor , Cain. Why are you doing all this?" I gesture vaguely between us.

"You blasted with magic as I was actively running from Inquisitors, you then arrested and left locked up for days, then you dragged into your mansion as a servant preaching about how you just knew I would get a Mark of power, and now you're training like I'm so prized investnt. I was a thief. My parents were hanged as traitors. What's in this for you?"

For a brief second just a second sothing shifts in his expression. A flicker of sothing raw, sothing that looks like pain. He glances away, exhaling slowly, and when he speaks, his voice is quieter than I've ever heard it.

"When I saw you running down that street, you reminded of my younger brother."

The words hang between us, heavy and unexpected. I blink, caught off guard by the admission. But before I can pry any further, the mont is gone. Cain shakes his head, and just like that, his usual smirk slides back into place like a well-worn mask.

"But that is a story for another day." His grin is back, casual and teasing. "Aren't we friends now, Ayato? Friends help each other."

I snort, shaking my head. "That so? Guess I missed the part where we exchanged friendship bracelets."

Cain just laughs, raising his empty glass in a mock toast. "We'll work on it."