The band still pressed into my left arm.

  Not from tightness —

  But from meaning.

  Caelia didn’t give me time to celebrate.

  Or even to breathe.

  —Now comes the hard part,” she said, walking toward the exit without looking back.

  “Follow me, Velcrux.—

  The others followed too.

  The next room was wider, less ceremonial.

  Black stone walls, reinforced flooring.

  A dozen training dummies, practice weapons hanging like nameless fruit: batons, blunt swords, dull-edged daggers.

  At the center — a crimson combat mat, stained at the edges from past sparring sessions.

  —Magical transformation is no excuse for sloppy defense,— Caelia said, turning to face me.

  —Your emotion gives you power. But if someone catches you off guard… you won’t have time to summon it.—

  I stopped at the edge of the mat.

  —We’re going to fight?—

  —No,— Velka chimed, already stretching her shoulders with a smirk.

  —We’re going to see how easy it is to kill you. Don’t worry — I’ll be gentle.—

  —No,— Caelia cut in. —Not today.

  Velka, you're observing.

  Neyra will do.—

  Neyra frowned. Not annoyed — just unsure.

  —Are you sure?—

  —You have form, foundation. She has… whatever she has. I want to see the contrast.—

  Caelia tossed me a padded torso guard.

  I caught it wrong — it smacked my forearm before I could adjust it.

  —Ever been in a real fight?—

  —No. Not once.—

  Neyra was already on the mat, rolling her wrists gently.

  —Then come. I’ll teach you something basic.—

  I stepped in.

  And basic hurt.

  Neyra wasn’t cruel. She was precise.

  She corrected my stance twice before even starting.

  Told me to keep my weight on the balls of my feet.

  Not to lift my shoulders.

  To move in circles.

  I nodded.

  And failed.

  My first punch left me off balance.

  My first dodge moved my whole body, leaving my back wide open.

  When Neyra tapped my chest to simulate a push, I fell flat on my back.

  No grace. No style. Just a sack of limbs.

  —It’s not strength, Lyss,— she said gently, offering me her hand.

  —It’s structure.—

  My thighs hurt.

  My elbows throbbed.

  Even my pride was bruised.

  Velka laughed from the edge.

  —Looks like our new Shadow’s soul weighs more than her body.—

  —Shut up,— I muttered. No real anger — but definitely shame.

  Caelia didn’t intervene.

  She just watched, arms crossed, measuring every move.

  —Try again,— Neyra said.

  I did. And failed again.

  This time, she grabbed my shoulders, twisted —

  And I was flat on the ground.

  The air left my lungs.

  —Emotion gives you power. But not balance,— she said, crouching beside me.

  —If you’re going to wield a rifle like the one you made…

  You’ll need to handle the recoil.

  Not from the shot. From the fight.—

  I sat up, clumsily. Sweat stung my forehead.

  Caelia’s voice cut the air:

  —Enough for today.

  But starting tomorrow, Velcrux, your day begins here.

  At dawn.

  No magic.

  No uniform.

  Just flesh, bone, and willpower.

  If you’re going to use an emotion like rancor,

  Your body can’t betray it.—

  I bit my lip. I didn’t answer.

  Velka twirled a practice dagger between her fingers as she walked over.

  —Need a sparring partner? I charge cheap.

  A smile and I might not break your nose.—

  —Velka,— Neyra warned.

  —What? It’s half a joke.—

  I stayed quiet.

  Climbed down from the mat.

  My body ached, my skin burned from blows that weren’t even real hits.

  And inside… the emotion pulsed.

  It didn’t rage.

  It waited.

  Like it knew its moment hadn’t come yet.

  —Time to eat,— Caelia said.

  And thank the stars — I was starving.

  Mess Hall

  The mess hall was warmer than I expected.

  Not in temperature — in atmosphere.

  Between the soft lighting and the scent of spiced soup, it almost felt like war didn’t exist.

  Or at least… could be ignored for a while.

  The four of us sat at a small metal table near a window overlooking the inner courtyard.

  Velka arrived carrying two trays — one was mine — smiling like she’d just won a medal.

  —Real food? Today? And hot?

  Someone important must’ve died to make this happen,— she said, chuckling as she placed the trays down.

  —Don’t joke about that,” Caelia said — not harsh, just firm.

  Neyra shook her head with a faint smile.

  The food was simple: red rice, some kind of stew with plant-based protein, and a dark bread that tasted better than it looked.

  After the first bite, I couldn’t help but glance at the others.

  Their uniforms were replaced by more comfortable clothes.

  Yet the way they sat — the way they scanned the room —

  Said they were never truly relaxed.

  I decided to take a chance.

  —Can I ask something?—

  Velka raised an eyebrow like Only one?

  —How do your powers work?— I asked, ignoring her look.

  —Your emotions… what do they let you do?—

  Caelia nodded slowly.

  —Good question.

  Mine stem from distrust.

  That’s why my magic focuses on protection — compensation, endurance, containment.

  My gear is defensive.

  I keep the team standing.—

  —And you, Neyra?

  The silver-haired girl met my eyes — gentle, almost melancholy.

  —My emotion is obsession.

  That’s why I see what’s gone… and what’s coming.

  My magic anticipates, analyzes.

  I can predict movement, read the flow of battle.—

  —Velka’s remorse,— Caelia added, glancing her way with a crooked smile.

  —Her magic’s… more flexible.—

  —Versatile, thank you,— Velka interrupted, dunking bread into her soup.

  “Infiltration. Environmental manipulation. Illusions.

  I can dismantle, disorient, slip through the cracks.

  Make you face your worst mistake.—

  I swallowed.

  —Is that what keeps you together?—

  Neyra answered.

  —No. What keeps us together is…

  We understand each other.

  Not just in battle.

  We know each other.

  Here, feeling too much is normal.

  And only among ourselves can we carry that weight without breaking.—

  I said nothing.

  Her words hit harder than I expected.

  —Venesse would say this soup is a small miracle,— Velka added softly, stirring her spoon.

  —Not the taste — but the fact we’re still eating together.—

  —Venesse?— I asked.

  Neyra nodded.

  —Our mother. Or something like that.

  Not a soldier.

  She’s… something else.

  A different way of caring.—

  Caelia said nothing, but her brow tightened slightly.

  —And where is she?—

  A pause.

  Not awkward.

  Careful.

  —Haven’t seen her in weeks,— Neyra said quietly.

  —They say she was called for a special mission.

  But no one knows if it was an order… or her choice.—

  Velka snorted without humor.

  —She probably got sick of our faces and went to find quieter girls.—

  —Don’t say that,— Neyra murmured.

  Velka clicked her tongue — but didn’t push it.

  I looked down at my soup again.

  I didn’t know who Venesse was.

  But the way they spoke of her…

  Made me wish I had.

  Later – Lyss’s Room

  The moment I opened the door, I knew something wasn’t right.

  The room was simple — a bed on each side, a shared desk, soft blue ceiling light.

  Nothing unusual…

  Except Velka’s suitcase was already open on her bed.

  Half her clothes were scattered everywhere.

  One boot hung off the edge.

  And a very purple undergarment dangled from the lamp.

  —What are you doing here?—

  —What do you think? I’m your new roommate, Velcrux~— she sang, bouncing onto her bed like she weighed nothing.

  —We’ll be sharing secrets, shampoo, and nightmares.—

  I sighed.

  —Great.—

  —Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. It’s fun. Plus, now I’ll be able to see if that uniform of yours shows up again at night. What if the magic strips you naked in your sleep, huh?

  I stared at her in disbelief.

  —Do you always tease like this?

  —Only the people I like —she replied, flashing a shameless grin.

  I sat on the opposite bed. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or request a room change.

  —Can I ask you something?

  Velka raised an eyebrow.

  —We’re already at the ‘deep questions’ stage of the relationship, huh? Shoot.

  —If your emotion is regret… how can you act like this? So carefree? So playful?

  I expected a joke. A laugh.

  But no.

  Velka lay back, stared at the ceiling, and replied in a softer tone.

  —Regret doesn’t shut you down completely. Not at first. It’s like a shadow that follows you… but at the beginning, you still keep walking. I awakened recently. I still have some sparks left from before. Sparks I don’t want to lose too fast.

  I stayed quiet.

  —And what do you regret?

  She turned to me, a crooked smile on her lips. But her eyes… weren’t smiling anymore.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  —That… isn’t for today, Velcrux.

  She said it gently, in a way that left no room for argument.

  —Come on. Let’s go shower. If we’re gonna share a room, you better not smell like training.

  Later in the showers

  Steam filled the space, and the echo of water bounced between the tiles. Velka wouldn’t stop talking. Not even under the shower.

  —Hey, if one day you go insane from your emotion and want to kill me, could you give me a heads-up? So I can at least put on something nice.

  —Do you always talk this much?

  —Only when I don’t want to think.

  I laughed.

  —I get it.

  When we returned to the room, she was already in pajamas — if that ridiculously short set could be called that — and flopped onto her bed with an exaggerated sigh.

  —Sweet nightmares, Velcrux. Try not to dream about me. I couldn’t handle that two nights in a row.

  I turned away in bed, giving her my back.

  But I couldn’t help smiling a little… even if it was just for myself.

  Chamber of the Council of the Seven Veils

  The chamber sat in twilight, lit only by seven beams of mystic light shining down over each council seat. The air smelled of incense, old magic, and carefully restrained tension.

  Queen Sheraphine Vaeloria, clad in her fearsome black battle armor — a sharp, ceremonial piece adorned with spikes that evoked authority and danger — stood before the great inverted rose window, symbol of the Crown.

  —Operation Umbral Mist has succeeded —she announced with a cold, measured voice—. But that’s not why we gather tonight. I want to speak of her.

  Whispers spread. Everyone knew who she meant.

  —Lyssandra Velcrux —she finally said, and the name hung heavy in the air.

  Lady Daryenne Maelstrid, the Hand of Blood, frowned.

  —The one who obliterated two kilometers of fertile land and over three hundred soldiers in a mere emotional surge. Are we truly calling that ‘potential’?

  Minister Sael Vynther, the Voice of the People, was already scribbling notes.

  —The cult will need a solid narrative. We could frame the incident as retaliation against an infiltrated cell. I already have three versions in mind.

  Commander Elore Stryvann, the Eye of War, crossed her arms.

  —Like it or not, she’s a weapon. And we don’t have many of that caliber. I suggest active monitoring. Let her train, but never let her roam free.

  Dr. Cirelle Thaynn, the Keeper of Pain, barely blinked.

  —We’ve begun replicating data from her initial magical pulse. It’s unstable, yes, but contains frequencies we’ve never seen before.

  She paused.

  —There’s something… new.

  Ambassador Myra Haldenn, the Silent Sanctum, said nothing. Her spokesperson —a young man in a white robe with his face covered— spoke for her:

  —The outside world must not learn of her. Not yet. Her scars could become fractures.

  High Instructor Venesse Aerla, the Voice of Dawn, spoke without raising her voice, though her gentleness stood out in the coldness of the room:

  —In her eyes… I saw a frightened girl. Not a threat. Not yet. What others call a crack, I call an open wound. And wounds, if treated in time… can heal without scarring.

  The queen turned slowly to face them, her dark crown glowing from behind.

  —Then the protocol remains. Monitoring, training… and total secrecy. The official record: an accidental explosion at a testing facility. 312 soldiers killed in service.

  —And Reia? —Commander Elore asked with skepticism—. Our only Light… and now this. What happens if they meet?

  Sheraphine didn’t hesitate.

  —If they meet… we’ll see if hope can survive resentment.

  All nodded. The queen stepped back, raising her hand.

  —Let it be recorded. The session of the Council of the Seven Veils is now closed.

  One by one, the matriarchs exited under their respective pillars of light.

  Venesse was the last to leave. Before crossing the threshold, she glanced back at the dark stained glass and whispered softly:

  —Don’t let them push her into the dark…

  No one heard.

  But the echo seemed to linger… between the veils.

  Outside the chamber, in a corridor sealed with white gold and black stone, Lirael Vaeloria waited. When she saw her mother exit, her eyes lit up.

  —Will I ever sit in there someday?

  The queen didn’t respond immediately. She simply looked at her, long and deep, as if evaluating something hidden in her daughter’s soul.

  At last, she replied:

  —Only if you learn to see beyond the veil.

  And she walked away, her crown resonating like a silent bell.

  The alarm rang before dawn.

  It wasn’t a voice, or a song, or even a light. It was a deep, low hum that vibrated in my ribs like a warning.

  Get up. Again.

  I reached the training hall with damp hair, sore muscles from the day before, and combat clothes clumsily thrown on. Every step was a quiet complaint from my body.

  Caelia was already there. Upright. Still. As if she hadn’t slept at all.

  —There will be no gentleness today, Velcrux —she said the moment I crossed the threshold—. You’ve awakened something big. But your body is still that of a civilian. That kind of gap can get us killed.

  I swallowed hard.

  —I know.

  —Do you? —she stepped closer, and I felt the weight of her shadow settle on my feet—. Do you know what it’s like to see a teammate bleed because you didn’t cover your flank? Do you know what it’s like to give an order too late and lose someone?

  I didn’t answer. Because no. I didn’t know.

  —No… but I don’t want to be the reason.

  She held my gaze for a few seconds more. Then simply pointed to the mat.

  Neyra was already there, rotating her arms gracefully, elegant even in warm-ups. Velka stretched her neck like a defiant ballerina, training knives hanging from her belt as if they were mere decoration.

  —Time to break you, shadow —she said with a sharp-toothed grin—. So you’ll hurt less tomorrow.

  I stepped onto the mat.

  And it began.

  Training Hall

  Caelia started with pushes. Nothing brutal. Nothing “lethal.” But precise. Cold. Every hit was a lesson I didn’t know how to learn. I lost balance, fell, got up. Again. And again. And again.

  Then came evasions with Neyra. She showed me how to pivot my hips, how to lower my center of gravity. Her movements were smooth, almost beautiful. I… was a tree stump. Clumsy. Slow. My breathing fell out of rhythm with every attempt.

  When Caelia threw a direct punch, I didn’t see it coming.

  The floor greeted me with a dull slap, and my lungs forgot how to function.

  —Shit…! —I groaned, clutching my side.

  —Fracture? —I heard Neyra, already kneeling beside me.

  —No… just… air.

  Velka whistled from her platform.

  —Shadow needs new lungs. Can we request some from reserves?

  I rolled my eyes, still breathless.

  —Shut up —I managed, without strength, without anger. But with shame.

  Caelia crouched in front of me.

  —And you still keep coming?

  I looked up. Her silhouette was a dark blur against the white light.

  —Yes.

  She nodded. Nothing else. But she did.

  Comunal Showers

  Hot water was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

  Every stream hitting my shoulders hurt. But it was a different kind of pain. Not like training. This one washed away, dragged off, even just a little, the day’s clumsiness.

  I held onto the wall with one hand, forehead pressed to the fogged tile, as the steam wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. I wore a kind of functional underwear thicker than normal made for communal showers. I couldn’t bring myself to undress in front of anyone. Not even myself.

  I could hear the other showers running, silhouettes behind frosted glass. Voices. Giggles. Gentle foot taps on the ceramic floor.

  —Still standing? —Neyra asked from the next stall.

  —Barely… —I answered, without lifting my head.

  —Want some muscle gel? Mine’s strong. Burns a bit, but it helps.

  I nodded, knowing she couldn’t see me. Still, she responded.

  —I’ll leave it on the bench.

  I heard her move. A small bottle appeared over the partition, carefully placed.

  —Thanks —I murmured.

  I took the bottle with wet hands and sat on the metal bench. The cold of the seat made me shiver. The water kept falling beside me, an artificial waterfall that couldn’t silence my thoughts.

  Soon after, Velka’s voice pierced the fog.

  —If you don’t cry in the shower at least once a week, you’re not training hard enough.

  A tap followed. She was probably washing her hair.

  —Can’t you be serious, just once? —Neyra said.

  —I am serious. This is therapy. Hot water, existential bruises, and a sore ass. What else do you need?

  I couldn’t help but let out a low laugh. Almost a sigh.

  —Well, at least you’re laughing —Velka added, as if she’d heard me.

  Another stall opened.

  Caelia.

  I heard her enter calmly, her shower clicking on with a dry snap.

  —Remember to moisturize your skin —she said in a neutral tone—. Sweat and training wear it down more than you think.

  —And there’s squad mom —Velka joked—. Bet she sleeps with a face mask and knives under her pillow.

  —Just the knives —Caelia replied.

  Neyra laughed. So did I. I covered my mouth, but didn’t stop the sound.

  I felt something warm in my chest. Not water. Something else. As if… for a moment, I wasn’t “the new girl.”

  Velka kept talking, softer now:

  —The showers are the only place we can really drop our guard. Literally. If you fall here, someone picks you up. If you cry, no one asks. And if you sing… they’ll record you. Lovingly.

  —Don’t you dare —Neyra warned.

  —Too late.

  I kept applying the gel gently to my shoulders. It smelled like mint and camphor. The burn was immediate, but comforting. Like a sign that something inside me still wanted to heal.

  —Did you get hurt? —Caelia asked suddenly.

  —Just bruises. Beginner’s pain.

  —It happens. The body will learn.

  She was silent for a second, then added:

  —I spent three weeks vomiting every morning. Velka cried the first two nights. Neyra fainted during training.

  —Caelia! —Neyra protested, laughing—. That was confidential!

  —Not anymore. It’s part of the ritual now.

  I laughed again. Not loud. But real.

  I looked at my hands. The skin was red from the water, knuckles scraped, back bruised. I didn’t like my body. I never had. It always felt foreign. Like someone else designed it just to carry shame.

  But in that moment, with them there, among steam, jokes, and hot water… I didn’t feel like a mistake.

  Just… one more.

  One among shadows who also knew how to hurt.

  NIGHT – SHADOWS THAT DON’T SLEEP

  The room was dim. Only a single emergency lamp glowed softly in the corner, casting amber light over the grey walls. Neyra was already asleep, I could ses her on the other room her breathing steady like a song with no lyrics. Caelia too, motionless in her bed, her sheets tucked with surgical precision.

  Velka snored. Or pretended to. I was never sure with her.

  I couldn’t sleep.

  Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel the echoes of the day in my body. The pain wasn’t sharp, but it was constant. The kind of ache that doesn’t leave room for rest. My muscles burned. My ribs throbbed. But what hurt most was the idea of not being enough. Of not deserving to be here.

  I got up in silence. Threw on a gray sweatshirt and walked barefoot through the darkened halls to the common room where the training weapons were kept. It smelled of dried sweat, metal, and worn wood. The lights were soft, automatic, flicking on as I moved.

  I grabbed a training staff. Smooth wood, no carvings. I held it in front of me the way I’d been taught. Arms straight. Weight forward. Controlled breathing.

  I tried to recall the hip turn. The sidestep. The right way to fall without breaking.

  I failed.

  Tried again. And again. Tripped over my own feet, the staff slipped, hit the ground with a hollow clunk. I cursed under my breath, exhaled slowly, started over.

  And then…

  —You’ve got the stance of a scarecrow with arthritis —said a voice behind me.

  I turned on instinct. The staff rose, brushing the neck of the figure watching me from the doorway’s shadow.

  Velka.

  She didn’t even flinch.

  —That. —She grinned, tilting her head—. That was good.

  I lowered the staff slowly, heart pounding in my throat.

  —What are you doing here?

  —Same as you, I guess. Dodging dreams. —She walked toward me in that way of hers, like she was gliding just above the ground—. Though yours looks more like a fight with ghosts.

  —I’m practicing.

  —Mmm. No. You’re surviving. Not the same thing. —She moved behind me, took the staff over my shoulders, and adjusted my posture—. Twist your torso. Drop your elbows. Breathe from your heels. Yes, that’s a thing.

  The wood creaked slightly under our hands.

  —Why are you helping me? —I asked before thinking.

  —Because you’ve already got Caelia to wreck you, and Neyra to dissect you. I prefer the fun part. Teaching you to hit back... and patch yourself up along the way.

  I chuckled, softly.

  —What if I’m not cut out for this?

  Velka stepped back a little. Looked at me. Not mockingly. Not even with sarcasm. Just… looked.

  —You know how many times I was told that? That I wasn’t meant for this. That I was too erratic, too emotional, too… me. —She gestured broadly with her arms—. But I’m still here. And so are you.

  She walked over to the rack, grabbed another staff, and spun on her heel with almost theatrical grace.

  —Tomorrow. Before sunrise. I’ll show you something Caelia can’t.

  —What if I cry?

  —I’ll record it. But mute. I’m not a monster.

  She racked the staff with a snap, gave me a quick look, and vanished down the hall without saying goodbye.

  I stayed behind.

  And for the first time, the silence didn’t hurt.

  I looked at the staff in my hands. Raised it again. And held it with a little more firmness.

  I returned to the room in silence.

  The door slid open with a soft sigh, as if it too knew the night called for quiet. Everything was in shadows. Neyra slept with one leg outside the blanket, breathing on her side. Caelia had turned toward the wall, arms crossed even in sleep, like her body didn’t know how to let go.

  Velka wasn’t there. Yet.

  I slipped into my bed and pulled the blanket over me like a second skin. The mattress was warm. My body burned. Every muscle complained. Every joint seemed to remember the day’s mistakes.

  And yet… it didn’t hurt like before.

  I stared at the invisible ceiling. I could hear the others’ breathing. The low hum of the complex’s magical infrastructure. The beat of my heart, no longer pounding in panic.

  Today they didn’t yell at me. Didn’t humiliate me. Didn’t leave me alone.

  Today… they picked me up when I fell. Spoke to me like I mattered. Touched me without breaking me.

  Maybe I’m not one of them.

  Not yet.

  But I want to be.

  And that scares me. More than any power. More than any memory. Because wanting to stay… is the first thing you lose when war arrives.

  I closed my eyes.

  And I didn’t feel like an intruder in my own bed.

  Morning came faster than I expected.

  My eyes felt heavy, but my body… different. Still sore, yes, but as if something inside had shifted. As if the night, instead of draining me, had made room for something new to grow.

  I dressed in silence. The others were still asleep. Velka had returned sometime during the night and was now snoring diagonally across her bed, one arm hanging off the side.

  I left alone.

  Velka had told me to come before sunrise.

  And I did.

  Velka arrived at the secondary practice room. Smaller, no mat, no weapons. Just a polished stone floor, shelves with simulation chips, portable projectors, and magical sensors embedded in the walls.

  —You’re early. you are making me look so bad —she said, sitting on a table, munching on an apple.

  —Aren’t you always late?

  —Technically, yes. But now you look like a responsible shadow. You’re ruining my reputation.

  I chuckled softly. It wasn’t forced. It just came out.

  Velka slid off the table and tossed me a magic chip. I caught it awkwardly—it almost slipped. She clicked her tongue.

  —Reflexes. We’ll work on that too. But today, we’re using your head.

  —Strategy?

  —Emotional strategy. Knowing what an enemy feels, how they hide it, how they use it. It’s not telepathy… it’s experience. Every enemy has an emotional rhythm. If you learn to read it, you can predict their next move before they make it.

  She activated a projector with a rune, and several holographic figures appeared: soldiers, creatures, urban environments, traps.

  —Tell me what you’d do here —she said.

  I stepped closer. Analyzed the map. The enemy was dug in behind a barricade, civilians nearby, and a hidden sniper.

  —...I’d move left. If the sniper had a clear shot, someone would already be dead. They’re waiting for us to expose ourselves. Best to use the civilian as bait.

  —What if they’re innocent?

  —None of ours are. —I paused. That line had come out without thinking.

  Velka watched me. Her eyes held no judgment, but no laughter either.

  —You know how to read danger, don’t you?

  I nodded.

  —Not because they taught me. Because I lived there.

  She turned off the projector. Said nothing else.

  And handed me another apple.

  The dining hall was quieter than usual.

  Not because it was empty—there were other tables occupied, some laughter in the distance, the usual clatter of spoons against ceramic—but because our table felt different today. Heavier, somehow.

  We sat together, like the night before, but no one joked about the food. The bread was warm, the broth thick, but none of us commented on it. It was as if each one was measuring something invisible.

  Velka was the first to speak, stirring her spoon without really eating.

  —Do you think this is what they expected? —she asked, not looking at anyone—. Us. This squad.

  Neyra blinked, surprised by the tone.

  —What do you mean?

  —“Shadows of the Crown.” Sounds impressive. Sounds like legend. But we’ve only been a unit for two years. And half of us haven’t seen a real battlefield.

  Caelia placed her spoon down gently. Her voice was steady, without reproach.

  —That’s not entirely true.

  Velka smiled bitterly.

  —Of course. You don’t count. You were with Irhena. You’ve been there… where people really die.

  The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was reverent.

  Caelia wasn’t offended. Nor did she boast.

  —I was, yes. There were six of us. All alive at the start. In the end… only Irhena and I.

  —And then? —I asked, without thinking. It was the first time I dared to interrupt something like that.

  Caelia looked at me. Not harshly. With a kind of gravity that chilled my chest.

  —Then, they split us up. Irhena was sent elsewhere. And I… was put on hold. Until they decided I could fight again.

  Velka lowered her gaze.

  —Sometimes I wonder if they built us as a farce —she said—. Like they wanted to copy what you had… but without the real weight behind it.

  —We’re still needed —Neyra replied calmly—. Doesn’t matter if we’re not legends yet. We’re here so others can live. That’s enough.

  Caelia nodded.

  —This squad was created for a reason. We’re the answer to questions they don’t even know how to ask yet.

  I stayed silent. Stared at my plate but didn’t eat.

  —I don’t have a legacy —I said, not lifting my gaze—. No stories. No battles. I barely know how to use my hands. All I know… is that I’m here. That something inside me burns. And that I want to learn how not to be a danger to you.

  Silence again.

  But it wasn’t rejection. It was recognition.

  Caelia spoke without looking at anyone in particular:

  —None of us were born for this. Not even Irhena. What made us capable… was choosing to stay after the first mistake. To keep fighting… even when we didn’t know if it was worth it.

  Velka let out a breath through her nose.

  —I just hope they give us a song when we die.

  —As long as no one sings it off-key —Neyra added, with a faint smile.

  And in that cold mess hall, I felt like maybe I didn’t have to be like them to belong here.

  Maybe… it was enough to endure.