Chapter 18 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
AERIS
Today was supposed to be a class-free day since some of first year new recruits were assigned on a mission to guard the border. Today should have been free
A morning to breathe.
A moment to let my muscles stop screaming.
A chance for my bones to remember what not aching felt like.
But apparently the Storm Owls did not believe in mercy.
“Storm Owls,” a crisp voice echoed down the dorm corridor, “assemble in the lower yard in ten minutes. Sparring rotation.”
The voice of Captain Neris.
I froze halfway through putting on my boots. Rhea, who had been stretching on her bunk, lifted her head with a murderous look.
“Sparring?” she whispered, offended. “On a free day? Is he trying to kill us early?”
I groaned and let my forehead drop against my knees. “I can’t spar. I can’t move. Every part of me hurts. Even my fingernails hurt.”
“If you say that out loud,” Rhea muttered, grabbing her belt, “the Captain will make you do extra.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I forced myself upright, trying not to wince at every stabbing ache in my shoulders. Yesterday’s drills had nearly snapped me in half. Today was supposed to be recovery… or so I’d hoped.
But when the Captain gave an order, you obeyed.
We hurried down the stairs and spilled into the lower yard, where the rest of the squad was already gathering. Some recruits looked awake and prepared. Some looked half-dead. I was in the “please bury me now” category.
Captain Neris stood at the center of the yard, posture straight, expression unreadable, hands clasped behind him. His presence alone straightened everyone’s spines.
“Good,” he said when he saw us join the group. “Storm Owls arrive on time. Always.”
No one dared breathe too loudly.
His gaze swept across us with razor precision. “Free day or not, you train. In the field, danger will not care how tired you are. I expect discipline. Reflex. Precision.”
My stomach clenched.
Sparring.
Reflexes.
Precision.
I possessed… absolutely none of those.
Captain Neris pinned a parchment to the board. “Pairings are listed. Two-minute rounds. Three rotations. Take your positions.”
Rhea leaned toward me. “Who do you think you’ll get?”
“Someone gentle,” I whispered. “Someone slow. Someone who accidentally forgot their weapon.”
A few recruits stepped forward reluctantly. The Captain raised a hand.
“First pair…Kale Merrin and Sura Veloth.”
Kale,a lanky boy with soft brown hair looked like he’d aged ten years in the last ten seconds. Sura, on the other hand, cracked her knuckles with the enthusiasm of someone who enjoyed violence a little too much.
They stepped into the ring.
The Captain made a sharp slicing gesture. “Begin.”
Kale barely managed to lift his staff before Sura lunged. She fought like a wildfire fast, hot, impossible to anticipate. Kale stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet, and only narrowly avoided a direct strike by spinning in a panic. Sura barked a laugh.
“You call that blocking?”
She swept low, knocking him clean off his feet. He hit the ground with a grunt, wheezing. The Captain tapped his heel once. “Sura wins.”
Kale groaned from the ground, “I need a new squad.”
“Get up,” Captain Neris said flatly. “Next pair.”
Another two recruits stepped forward….Darin and Mirelle. Both were decent fighters, confident, talented. Their spar was almost graceful: the ring of blades meeting, the flash of movement, the momentum shifting back and forth. Darin ducked, Mirelle spun, their weapons striking in fluid arcs. No one stumbled. No one panicked.
It was everything I wasn’t.
Mirelle won by sweeping Darin’s leg out and pinning him with her knee. She helped him up with a grin. He accepted it with a groan.
More names were called. More pairs stepped into the ring.
Then Captain Neris lifted the next parchment strip.
“Aeris Thalorian.”
My lungs seized.
Rhea squeezed my wrist once, whispering, “You’ve got this.”
I tried to inhale slowly.
Tried.
Then…
“Rowan Calder.”
Everything inside me went cold.
I didn’t hear the murmurs around me, the soft ripple of surprise. I didn’t hear Rhea’s sharp intake of breath.
All I heard was the violent thud of my own heartbeat.
I turned my head slowly.
Rowan was already looking at me.
And the smirk on his face—
Not friendly.
Not amused.
A private message carved into a single curved smile:
I remember what you are.
I remember what I left you to.
And now you’re mine again.
My legs felt rooted to the ground.
Rhea whispered, voice low and horrified, “Are you joking? Him? Neris paired you with him? Aeris—”
But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
All I could see was the forest.
The beast’s hot breath on my face.
Rowan’s footsteps fading.
His voice echoing:
Survive, Aeris.
Captain Neris’s voice cut through the ringing in my head.
“Step forward.”
Rowan strode toward the ring with calm, confident steps. Like a man approaching a task he’d been waiting for.
I followed slowly, my boots feeling unbearably heavy. The ground seemed too loud beneath me.
My throat too tight. My hands too empty.
When I reached the center, Rowan leaned in just slightly…close enough that only I could hear.
“Try not to die too quickly.”
I stopped breathing altogether.
He stepped back, twirling his practice blade idly between his fingers, as if this were nothing more than entertainment.
I swallowed hard.
The Captain raised his hand.
“Begin.”
The air snapped.
Rowan didn’t hesitate not even a heartbeat.
He lunged.
Fast.
Too fast.
I barely managed to jerk out of the way, stumbling backward as his blade sliced through the space my throat had been in a split second earlier.
My heart stopped.
He wasn’t fighting to train.
He was fighting to hurt me.
To punish me.
Maybe even kill me.
Rowan pivoted smoothly, expression calm, almost bored, as if my life dangling by a thread was no more unusual than a morning drill.
“Move, Aeris,” he murmured. “Or this ends faster than it did in the forest.”
I stumbled back again, lifting my staff with shaking hands. “Rowan—stop. This is—”
He didn’t stop.
I barely had time to breathe before Rowan’s next strike sliced toward me. Every blow forced me backward across the sparring circle, my boots scraping against the packed dirt.
I raised my arm too late.
The wooden blade cracked against my forearm, pain shooting straight up to my shoulder. My vision blurred for a moment. I could hear gasps from the other recruits, but I barely registered them.
Rowan didn’t pause. Of course he didn’t.
“Keep up,” he said, voice annoyingly calm. “Or is this where you fall behind again?”
Again.
Heat surged through my chest…not just anger, but humiliation. Exactly the humiliation I didn’t want him to see.
I planted my foot, twisted, and launched forward with a strike born more from instinct than technique. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t strong. But it landed. My blade smacked against his ribs with a dull thud.
He froze.
And then he laughed.
“That’s it?” he said, tilting his head, eyes glinting with amused cruelty. “If that’s your best, Thalorian, no wonder—”
He didn’t finish.
I swung again, sharper this time…wild, desperate, driven by something deep and primal. He blocked it with ease, twisting our blades until mine was forced down. Leaning close, he muttered, low enough that only I could hear,
“You’re weak. Still.”
Humiliation flared hot in my chest. I felt dizzy, my stomach twisting.
Then he shoved me back, and I stumbled, barely catching myself. The circle felt too small, too loud, too full of eyes judging me. Watching me fail. Again.
Rowan advanced.
One sweep of his leg threw off my balance—
A strike to my shoulder made my arm go numb—
Another to my abdomen knocked the air from my lungs—
I hit the ground hard, breath shattering from my chest. My wooden blade clattered from my fingers.
And he lifted it again.
I froze.
“Enough!”
Captain Neris’ voice cracked across the yard like a lightning bolt.
My whole body stiffened. Rowan froze mid-strike, jaw tight, blade still raised.
I sucked in a trembling breath and pushed myself up on shaky elbows. My pulse roared in my ears.
Neris strode between us, his cloak whipping behind him.
“I said spar,” he snapped at Rowan. “Not attempt to reenact a battlefield execution. I made you squad leader to help them improve, not to kill them”
Rowan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He lowered his head gently, almost submissively, as if absorbing the reprimand.
Captain Neris straightened, looking between us.
“Sparring is done for this pair,” he declared. “Both of you—off the field. Now.”
Rowan lowered his blade, expression unreadable. I rose to my feet slowly, legs trembling, breath still uneven.
I barely had time to collect myself before I was ushered off the field. Rowan’s eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, unreadable, and then he turned and walked away, his cloak brushing the dirt like nothing had happened.
I staggered back toward the dorms, every step reminding me of the bruises blossoming across my body. Honestly, part of me couldn’t wait to see Rhea spar. At least watching her fight might make me feel alive…less like a punching bag.
By the time I reached my room, my limbs felt like lead. I rummaged through my small supply of herbs, grinding a few into a warm poultice and pressing it to my shoulders. The scent was calming, almost soothing.
I sank onto my bed, letting the tension in my body ebb slowly. My pulse finally began to steady. The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was the sound of the evening wind brushing the Academy walls…
And then nothing.
I slept deeply, the fight..and Rowan fading into the edges of my dreams.