"And they will be," Thalynae said, her voice steady as stone. "All of them."
Neither woman moved. The pause that followed wasn’t awkward—it was deliberate, a stillness that carried weight.
They stood side by side before the high windows, their eyes tracing the uneven lines of rooftops below, the scattered green of the life trees in the distance.
It was the kind of view that could make a person believe the city might give up its secrets if only they stared hard enough.
But nothing shifted, and the secrets remained. Far beneath them, the hum of the academy went on, unbroken, the rise and fall of voices and footsteps giving no hint that anything had changed.
Yet here in the tower, the air felt heavier, and the path ahead seed sharper in outline, each choice already taking shape.
When they finally stepped back from the open windows, no words passed between them. They didn’t need to speak.
The understanding was already complete, and everything that mattered now would be in the doing.
Ethan felt the lingering pull of sleep still in his body when he stepped into the training room that afternoon.
The air hit him first—clean and faintly sharp, carrying the cool bite of steel from the weapon racks and the muted tang of resin from the mats laid out across the floor.
Sunlight cut through the tall windows at an angle, falling in bright lines across the room and carving the space into hard edges.
Ardis was already there, standing at the far end with a short wooden staff resting easily in her hand.
The way she held it looked almost casual, but her stance gave her away—she was balanced, planted, and ready to move without wasting a fraction of ti.
Her gaze t his the mont he entered, a brief flicker of acknowledgnt before she turned slightly toward the center of the room.
"Today isn’t just about illusions," she said, her voice level and clear. "It’s about using them in motion—when you’re already moving to strike or defend.
Anyone can throw a punch or swing a blade. But making it land exactly where you want, while hiding the real angle of attack... that’s a different skill."
He gave a slight nod, rolling his shoulders back as he walked toward the open mat. The way she laid it out told him this wouldn’t be a day for easy wins.
"Start simple," she said, stepping forward. "Move the way you normally would, but lay a light distortion over your motion.
Not enough to vanish. Just enough to make an opponent hesitate, even if it’s only for a second."
He breathed out once and began, letting his weight shift into a sidestep before stepping forward again, raising his arm in a quick feint.
A faint shimr of illusion rippled over his outline, throwing a slight lag into the eye’s expectation of where he was.
It was a small thing, almost nothing—but enough to make a trained gaze pause, even if only briefly.
"Again," Ardis said, circling him slowly.
He tried another sequence, this ti sliding the distortion into a low feint before pivoting into an upward strike.
She didn’t block, didn’t even twitch—just watched, her eyes tracking the rhythm of his steps and the timing of each shift in his weight.
"Don’t freeze when you get it wrong," she said at last. "Recover while you’re still moving. An opponent won’t stop just because you lost your footing."
They kept going. Sotis her corrections were quiet, just a word about his balance or the mont the illusion should hit.
Other tis, they were sharper—an edge of the staff tapping lightly against his arm or leg, never enough to hurt, but always enough to make him aware of the gap he’d left open.
The more they repeated the movents, the more his body began to link them together until the stops and starts smoothed into one continuous line.
After a while, she stepped back and leaned the staff against her shoulder. "You’ll need this control for the midterm," she said.
"You’ll be facing virtual beasts modeled after real ones from the forbidden zones. The system reads you in real ti. It adapts. If you fight sloppily, it will punish you for it."
He straightened, running a hand across his forehead to wipe away the sheen of sweat. "What counts as passing?"
Her mouth curved faintly, though the look in her eyes didn’t soften. "Passing is surviving until the clock runs out."
He didn’t smile, but sothing in his expression settled. "Then I’ll make sure I do."
"You’ll need more than survival if you want the score that matters," she said, pushing away from the wall.
The staff dropped back into her hand with an easy motion. "But we’ll get there."
The pace picked up. She began shifting things without warning—calling for him to change targets mid-strike, altering her own position in the blink of an eye so that he had to re-angle an attack in the middle of an illusion shift.
Sotis, he caught the change and moved with it. Other tis, his timing broke, and she drove him back into motion before he had a chance to think about what had gone wrong.
By the end, his breathing was steady but deeper, each inhale asured, each exhale carrying the weight of work well past the easy edge of his comfort.
Ardis lowered the staff at last, watching him for a mont before giving a single, short nod. "That’s enough for today. Next ti, we layer more."
He gathered his things without rush, his steps calm even as the faint sll of steel and resin followed him out into the corridor.
Her words stayed with him—not just about surviving, but about being ready for whatever ca after.
Inside the training room, Ardis stayed where she was for a mont longer, the staff resting lightly against her leg.
Her mind was already on the next session, where to push and hold back.
The climb ahead had only just begun, and she ant to take him to the top without letting him see how steep the slope was until he was already standing there.
Reviews
All reviews (0)