Chapter 16 CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AERIS
“ARGH!”
The cry tore out of me before I could stop it—half frustration, half pain—as I swung the practice blade down in a desperate arc toward the wooden dummy.
Steel met splintered oak with a hollow thunk, barely enough force to leave more than a shallow dent.
My arms vibrated from the impact.
My lungs burned.
And sweat..actual sweat, not magical residue dripped down my forehead, stinging my eyes as I stumbled back a step.
This was nothing like spellcasting.
This was nothing like herb work, or quiet nights in the gardens, or sneaking into forgotten courtyards to fail in peace.
This was brutal.
Loud.
Unrelenting.
And it had only been ten minutes.
“Again,” Neris said.
His voice cut through the courtyard like a blade itself—sharp, cold, and impossible to ignore.
I tightened my grip on the sword. My wrists screamed. The hilt was already slipping in my hands, coated with sweat, but I forced my fingers to tighten.
I raised the blade.
Tried to breathe.
Tried not to imagine how ridiculous I must look.
Then I struck.
The blade clanged awkwardly off the dummy’s shoulder, sending a jolt up my arms so strong it numbed my elbows. “Ow—” I hissed, stepping back again.
“That was worse,” Neris said flatly. “You hesitated.”
“I didn’t!” I snapped back, even though I absolutely had.
He gave me a long, unimpressed stare. “Your stance collapsed. Your follow-through died halfway. And your swing was too high. If that was a real opponent, they would’ve gutted you before your blade even touched them.”
I opened my mouth,maybe to defend myself, maybe to complain, maybe to die on the spot but another tremor shook my tired arms.
Neris didn’t soften. He never softened.
“Hold your stance,” he said. “Feet apart. Bend your knees.”
He stepped behind me, using the edge of his boot to nudge mine further outward. “Lower. Your center of balance is a disaster.”
“It’s hard to balance with a sword this heavy,” I muttered.
He didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a training sword. It weighs barely more than your own cloak.”
I flushed. “W—well maybe my cloak is heavy.”
A pause.
“…Aeris.” He said my name with so much deadpan exhaustion I wanted to evaporate into mist.
But he stepped forward anyway, adjusting my elbows, pushing my shoulders back, guiding my grip on the hilt. His hands were warm—surprisingly so—and steady in a way mine never were.
“Now,” he said, stepping away. “Hit the target. Not with emotion. Not with fear. With intent.”
I swallowed hard.
Okay.
Intent.
Not panic.
Not shame.
Not the knowledge that my magic was a ticking bomb in my veins.
Just… intent.
I raised the blade again.
My fingers trembled. My arms shook. But I raised it anyway.
I swung.
The impact this time rang louder—firmer, cleaner—and the dummy rocked under the force. Not deep, not powerful, not enough to actually be good…
But better.
Barely.
Neris nodded once. “Again.”
I groaned. “Can’t I—”
“No.”
“I’m dying.”
“You’re winded.”
“My legs don’t work.”
“They’re moving right now.”
“I hate this.”
“You’ll hate dying more.”
My glare could’ve melted steel. “You know,” I muttered under my breath, “you’re very encouraging.”
“I’m not here to encourage you,” Neris replied. “I’m here to make sure you survive long enough to be worth encouraging.”
His words echoed harshly, louder than the clatter of steel in my shaking hands.
We’d been here for roughly two hours.
Two hours of swinging, missing, sweating, stumbling, and trying not to collapse face-first into the dirt.
Class earlier had been fine…surprisingly fine. Mostly theory, discussions about magical laws, realm barriers, beasts that threatened Virelia’s borders. No spellcasting. No glowing orbs. No instructors watching too closely.
No risk of my magic slipping.
But here?
Here, under the blazing sun in the training yard?
With a sword growing heavier by the second and Captain Neris watching every move?
I hadn’t been able to—
My blade slipped mid-swing, clattering against the dummy’s arm before sliding off pathetically.
“—do anything right,” I finished under my breath, panting as I lowered the sword. My arms felt like overcooked noodles. My knees wobbled. Even my fingers tingled with that ugly prickling frustration.
Neris stepped closer. Not enough to touch me, but enough that his shadow stretched across my boots.
“That wasn’t awful,” he said.
I whipped my head up, hopeful.
He added immediately, “It wasn’t good either.”
Hope died. “…Thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” he said dryly.
I groaned and pressed my forehead against the wooden dummy. It smelled like old sweat and splinters. “I can’t keep this up. My arms are about to fall off. Actually fall off. I’ll be armless. Then you’ll feel really guilty—”
“Aeris.”
I shut my mouth.
He crouched beside me, inspecting the training sword where it leaned against the dummy. His expression didn’t soften, but there was something less cutting in his voice now.
“You are not weak,” he said. “You’re inexperienced. There’s a difference.”
My breath hitched.
Not weak.
Just inexperienced.
It was the closest thing to kindness I’d heard from him.
“But,” he continued, standing again, “you lack stamina, balance, and basic discipline.”
Never mind.
He gestured to the sword. “Pick it up.”
“Again?” I squeaked.
“Again,” he confirmed. “You still haven’t landed one clean strike.”
I wanted to curl up and die.
Instead, I bent down, grabbed the hilt, and forced my tired legs to straighten. “You know,” I muttered, “most mentors use encouragement. Or gentle words. Or praise.”
“I’m not most mentors,” he said.
“Yes, I’m aware,” I snapped.
But I lifted the sword anyway.
And swung.
And missed the center again.
Neris watched, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Your grip is wrong.”
“Everything I do is wrong!”
“For now,” he agreed calmly.
“Aeris,” he said, stepping forward again, voice low. “Survival is not about talent. It’s about training. Discipline. Control. And right now?”
He tapped the blade, guiding it lower.
“You have none. But you will.”
Something tightened in my chest.
Because the way he said it, the quiet certainty, the promise felt like a lifeline.
“I will… try again,” I whispered.
“Good,” he said simply. “We’re not stopping until you land one real hit.”
My stomach dropped.
This was going to be a very long day.
I swung again.
And again.
And again.
Each hit felt weaker than the last, my muscles trembling so hard the blade kept wobbling in my grip. The sun had shifted overhead, turning the courtyard stones blistering-hot beneath my boots, and sweat soaked through the back of my uniform, making the fabric cling to my spine.
“Lower your elbow,” Neris instructed without looking at me. “You’re leaving your side open.”
“I—” I adjusted, gritting my teeth. “I’m trying.”
“Try less. Focus more.”
I let out a strangled noise that was neither polite nor human.
And then—
.
A ripple of power thrummed through the courtyard, brushing over my skin in a cold sweep that raised every hair on my arms.
I didn’t even need to turn.
I knew that presence.
That magic.
That impossible gravity that filled every space he stepped into.
The Sovereign.
My heart lurched into my throat.
I forced myself to swing again, but the blade nearly slipped from my grasp. I clenched down harder, breath catching, and risked the tiniest glance over my shoulder.
There he stood..his cloak stirring in a wind that wasn’t there
Those glinting, predatory green eyes showing behind the mask swept over the yard with lethal calm.
Then—
Landing on me.
I shivered so hard the blade almost clattered out of my hand.
Neris straightened immediately, posture tightening. He didn’t bow…captains rarely did but he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
“Aeris. Hold your ground. Continue your drills.” Neris said as he walked towards the Sovereign.
By the time he reached Kael, their heads dipped toward each other.
I pretended to resume training.
I struck the dummy again, the blade landing weakly, and I kept my eyes pointed forward—
But my ears strained for any sound.
Any word.
Any hint.
Nothing.
Their voices were too low, swallowed by the heavy air.
Neris’s shoulders stiffened as Kael talked to him.
His brows edged downward, something flickering across his face…concern, then disbelief, then something like… worry?
Real worry.
I swung again mostly so it wouldn’t be obvious I was listening. The blade smacked uselessly into the dummy.
I risked another glance.
Whatever Kael said next made Neris’s jaw tighten. His shoulders stiffened, tension knotting beneath his armor. He looked worried.
What were they talking about?
Why did it make Neris’s composure crack?
Finally, Kael straightened. His cloak shifted with a slow, controlled ripple of power. He said one last thing and Neris bowed his head.
The Sovereign gave me one last unreadable glance before he walked away, the air settling only once he vanished through the archway.
Neris exhaled slowly.
For a moment, he just stood there, shoulders taut, jaw clenched like he was holding back a dozen thoughts.
Then he faced me again.
“Pick up your sword,” he said.
But his voice wasn’t as steady as before.
And that terrified me more than anything else.