2. Two

Two

A wave of warmth swept over me, and I instinctively brought my hands to my lips, blowing hot air onto them. The twisting stone stairway was the only way up or down from our dorm on the very top floor of the east wing. It was a path I had walked hundreds of times before, but this time . . . felt different.

I took each step slowly as I descended down the enclosed stairway, tracing the jagged edges of the ancient stone. My fingers caught on rough patches and pockets of salt from the nearby ocean; the scent of brine clung to every surface.

Flickering candles lined the narrow passage, casting dancing shadows across the walls as I made my way down. The light was dim, but still enough to reveal the intricate carvings that adorned the stone enclosure. They depicted scenes of old legends and heroic tales, passed down through The Stories , generation after generation. Love letters etched from a time when realm magic was shared—used to build and create—before our leaders feared the power it gave its citizens.

As I came around the last bend of the stairwell, the rumbling of laughter and conversation flowed out from the dining hall. My heart swelled with a familiar comfort and my eyes filled with tears again. Sniffing them away, I pressed my palms into my eyes and rubbed.

Taking a few steps toward the arched entrance, a heated conversation caught my attention and I paused to listen. One of the students was screaming at her classmate to give something back. He was mocking her, asking if he would find something embarrassing.

A journal, he definitely had her journal.

I could hear the fear in the girl’s voice and I knew the feeling all too well, which was why every notebook of mine had always been tucked secretly away in a loose stone under my bed.

Smiling to myself, I turned the corner as he began to read aloud.

“Dear diary, I just wish he noticed me. Why doesn’t Dyr—”

“Now, now, Zeph,” I crooned, stepping into view. The girl’s eyes darted to me, relief washing over her face. “It’s all fun and games until your secrets start getting shared too, isn’t it?” I raised a brow as he smirked back at me.

“Like you know any secrets of mine.” He scoffed, brushing me off and turning back to the diary. He opened his mouth to start reading and I cut in, flicking my fingers toward the book and slamming it shut on a phantom wind.

“Should I start with where you go every full moon?” His mouth dropped open. “Or something smaller? Like last night when you snuck in to—”

“Fine!” His eyes narrowed as he cut me off. He threw the journal toward Jada, who finally seemed to take a breath as it slid across the polished stone floor.

“Not so fun, is it?” I chuckled. Zeph rolled his eyes as he sat back down on the long dining bench with his back facing me.

I could hear him mutter something under his breath as Jada retorted, “The shadows talk to her, dumbass,” then swept up her items and headed toward the exit on the far side of the room.

She really shouldn’t know about my shadows, no one should. I had let them free only once in the middle of the night, thinking I was alone in the training gym, and a student had seen me. Rumors spread like wildfire and Asrai gave me the first and only lashing I ever received. She said the punishment must match the severity of my actions.

I never let them out of me again, and the rumors turned to lore inside the walls of the school as the years passed.

I winced at the memory.

Pulling my eyes from Zeph’s back, I focused back on the grand room around me.

The hall was illuminated by hundreds of candles suspended in the air, with help from the warm glow of a large hearth—its stones arranged in a perfect circle. Long tables lined the room horizontally and were filled with students and professors scarfing down their morning meal before scurrying off to whatever classes and training they had scheduled for the day.

The smell of eggs and buttered biscuits wafted up my nostrils. My hand found its way to my stomach again and felt it rumble, a quiet demand for a real meal. I pushed the feeling away.

Coffee, I’d just have coffee.

My eyes scanned the room in search of Ata and found her in her usual spot—tucked into a plush armchair in front of the fire; a book in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. A small plate of burnt bacon sat on the table next to her. Typical , I thought to myself, smiling at the scene in front of me.

Dining hours were her least favorite part of the day. Everyone knew if she was sitting in that chair, the entire area would be off limits until she left. She always insisted that she was “allergic” to anyone under the age of sixteen.

I was really going to miss her incessant complaining about the incompetence of what she called “toddlers.”

I made my way across the hall, weaving through a crowd of students as I approached her chair.

“Taft is looking for you,” Ata stated, without looking up at me. She sipped on her Earl Grey as I sat down in the deep green wing-back chair opposite her, watching as she flipped her page. “Let me guess, you’re avoiding him.” She glanced up at me, and I averted my eyes. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” She smirked, folding the corner of her current page and snapping the book shut. “What’s wrong?” Her eyes pinned me to my chair, and I cleared my throat. Plastering on a smile that I knew she would see right through, I looked over at her.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” My smile faltered at the corners as I pulled my braid over my shoulder to hide the bruise pulsing on my chest and pulled at the coils slipping out of their places.

“Okay . . .” She leaned forward, setting her book on the table and narrowing her eyes. “Don’t lie to me.” She wasn’t going to let this go.

“I just—” I paused, trying to formulate the sentence in my head. “What if I’m not making the right choice? Taft says—”

“Fuck Taft,” she cut me off, rolling her eyes at the mention of his name. “He does not care about what’s best for you.” Her features hardened as she spoke about him. “Cin, you cannot stay here. You are so much bigger than this place and we both know it. You’re meant to do more than train children how to hold a perfect battle stance, or be someone’s errand girl.”

“I don’t have to take a job at the academy. I could get a job in Rahval and find a house on the outskirts of the city. Something quiet and peaceful,” I said, leaning to rest my chin in the palm of my hand.

Her face relaxed as she leaned back into her chair, but I could still hear the frustration in her voice as she said, “You’ve been waiting for this day for thirteen years. You’ve dreamed of it, of finding where you came from and building a home that is yours. Please, do not let a man who is only acting in his best interest change that dream for you.”

I could see the pleading in her deep green eyes; the golden brown flecks embedded in them sparkled in the fire’s reflection. I knew she was right.

“What about you? Am I just supposed to leave you here and pray the Gods will let me see you again?”

She smiled softly back at me. “Yes, that is exactly what you are supposed to do. If the Gods will it, I will see you again by next winter’s end.” I leaned my head against the back of my chair and pulled my feet underneath me.

“This is a lot harder than I expected,” I said as she brought her tea to her lips, sipping as I released a deep breath and looked around the large vaulted room. My eyes lingered on the large statue of Asrai. Two swords were strapped across her back and her hand was holding a scroll engraved with the academy’s motto.

From the roots of the earth, to the sky above, from many now as one, honor binds us by sword and shield, forever conquered by none.

A small smile crept onto my lips as I chanted the motto in my head. I would never forget it. This school had been a sanctuary for hundreds of orphans before me, and I knew it would be the same for hundreds more after .

Asrai was like us, orphaned as a child.

According to the stories, she was left on the streets of Rahval—Redelvtum’s capital—and found by a High Priestess. A year went by and no one came to claim her, so the King and Queen of Redelvtum took her in as their own. They had not been able to bear an heir and saw her as a gift from the Gods.

They raised her in the ways of the Drow; educating and training her harder than any soldier in the Imperial Army had ever been trained. Because of this, she grew to become one of the most high-caliber warriors the realms had ever seen.

The Stories spoke of her strength, her resilience during The Great War, and she solidified her place in history because of it. She became the youngest, deadliest, and most skilled War General to step onto the battlefield. She led the armies of three realms with near zero fatalities for five years and single-handedly ended the war by creating the Realm Convocation to broker peace.

The Stories became murky after The Great War, like someone had intentionally taken away pages from its text, and I could never find mention as to why she didn’t take her place as Queen of Redelvtum after her parents were slaughtered during the war. I never dared to ask her.

Once Asrai retired from her position as a War General, she dedicated her life to creating this academy to honor the fallen King and Queen who had loved her like they would their own blood.

She raised us and trained us exactly how she had been. Which made these walls one of the safest, yet lethal fortresses in the Iron Forest. From the moment we stepped foot in this academy, who we were before no longer existed—no longer mattered. I could never recall anything about my life before I came here. It was like I only started existing in my own memories the morning I was left outside of the gates. Those who had known their families, who knew where they came from, struggled to adjust to life here. But for me, it was the only life I had ever known. She molded us into warriors, ready for battle at any minute. Weapons and poisons of all kinds were hidden all over the school, ready to be plucked up and plunged into anyone who dared to cross over the threshold of these walls without invitation.

I pulled my eyes away from her statue, letting them slide to the base of the hearth and smiled. Behind the circular stone on the bottom right-hand side, was my sheath, filled with daggers I had made and collected over the years.

“So . . . ?” Ata stretched out her leg and pushed on my knee still tucked tight under my body, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Why are you avoiding Taft?” She swung her legs over the arm of her chair and I rolled my eyes in an attempt to mask the sinking feeling in my chest.

He did not take the news of my choice well. He had decided to stay on his Choice Day, four years ago, and every Choice Day since. He was Asrai’s Second Commander, the Head Of Battle Training at the academy and sat with her on Redelvtum’s War Council. He loved what he did and he was so good at it. I couldn’t ask him to leave with me, though I wanted to so many times; I couldn’t put him in that position.

I let out a long, pained sigh before answering her. “I’m anxious about the mood he will be in, and how he’s going to act today.” I picked at the fabric on the chair as I continued. “He wasn’t doing so well when I left his quarters last night. I just hope he isn’t going to make this harder than it already is.”

She let out a high pitched laugh. “He’s never doing well if you aren’t around. I’m telling you, it’s not love, it’s obsession. If he could own you, I think he would,” Ata stated and I tried to ignore the bite in her words as I glanced over her shoulder.

Taft was walking toward us with two coffee’s in hand. I watched as Ardan and Wren snuck up behind him, grinning and whispering to each other mischievously before pouncing on him. Ardan grabbed Taft from behind in a bear hug, lifting him off the ground as the contents of one mug splashed onto Wren. Wren shoved Ardan as Taft broke free—their laughs filling our cozy corner as they gathered around us.

“I was wondering where you boys had gone off too,” Ata crooned as they sat in the seats opposite us and Taft perched himself on the arm of my chair. He handed me a warm cup of coffee, the smell of hazelnut invading my senses as I smiled up at him, a silent thank you .

“We had some business to take care of,” Wren said, playfully elbowing Ardan as Ata lifted a brow at their coyness. Wren’s eyes darted to Taft then to me before adding, “We wanted to clear as much of our schedules as we could, so we can be here to show this one out of the gates.” A warm, broad smile spread across Wren’s face as he said the words.

I brought my coffee to my mouth and sipped, peering over the rim at them. These two, who acted like the older brothers I always wanted, were actual brothers. Ardan, the oldest of the two, was twenty-seven, soon to be twenty-eight, he was Taft’s best friend and Asrai’s right hand on the War Council. He was remarkable when it came to strategy, and the Council relied heavily on his knowledge. At the academy, he taught the students everything he knew, though no one had shown to be as talented as him in that aspect.

Even though he towered over us and looked like he was carved from stone, his heart was the softest and kindest of us all. His eyes were like pools of golden water, and his skin was the color of sun-kissed, sandy beaches. His hair matched his eyes in color but was wild and untamed, with curls falling slightly over his thick dark brows.

Wren could not have looked more different than his brother. He was three years younger but his tight jawline and muscled physique made them seem closer in age. His skin was paler than Ardan’s, and his eyes were the darkest, silkiest blue that I had ever seen. They reminded me of the night sky; with stars that twinkled in the corners whenever he smiled. His inky black hair had a wave to it, but not the same curls that his brother adorned like a crown. He kept it short and neat, but at times, a few strands would slip out of their places and caress his face.

Wren sat on the war council as an Intelligence Officer and reported directly to our leaders—the High Priest and Priestesses who resided in the House of High and ruled over Redelvtum. From a very young age, it was made clear that he had a special gift for collecting information that was not meant to be shared, and as a result enticed individuals, when needed, to share their secrets. This had put him on the War Council’s radar and when he had chosen to stay on his Choice Day, the War Council appointed him to his role that same night.

The relationship that these brothers had was beautiful. They had come here when Ardan was ten years old; their mother had died of a plague that struck their realm and without a father, their city did not have the means to care for them. So they were sent out of the gates with only a map on how to find the academy. It had taken them almost a year to find this place, and by the time they had arrived, Ardan was so close to death that it took the healers six months to get him back to full health. I knew that Redelvtum took in all children from other realms if they were orphaned before their Choice Day, but to send two children out into the ungoverned parts of the realms that most adults didn’t survive . . . it was disgusting.

I had always been a little envious of Ardan, Wren, and Taft. They didn’t have to hide their magic or keep it locked away inside of them. When the House of High appoints you to a role within their walls or on the War Council, you are given permission to learn and practice your realm magic openly, even without pure blood. In order to be a member of the House of High’s court—who were given access to all the finery and privilege the rest of the realm was forced to live without—you had to either be of pure blood, hold a seat on the War Council, or be appointed to a role within the House of High.

Ardan and Wren were both healers, and you could feel that magic whenever you were around them. My mind always seemed to be at ease when I was in their presence, and they never let me scar if they had any say in the matter. Taft, on the other hand, had never spoken of his magic. Every time I had asked him about it he had shut the conversation down immediately until eventually, I stopped asking. So, while they were free to wield their realm magic, I was stuck with using no more than lesser magic. It was still useful for lighting a fireplace, filling a mug, or cleaning up a mess with no more than a flick of the wrist—but I wanted more than that. I wanted to learn what magic was really inside of me, maybe then I would have a better idea of what realm my parents came from.

We sat there, steam rising from our mugs and mingling with our laughter as we shared stories, leaning in closer to hear each other over the chatter of the other students. These people were my home, my family, and as I looked at them, a pang of sadness gripped my heart knowing this was our last day together. My stomach twisted, tangling around itself as I battled the urge to stay here forever, safe within these walls like Taft wanted. But I knew I couldn’t. I could feel the world outside the gates tugging on my soul, as if to tell me I didn’t belong here.

Taft leaned down, his lips gently caressing my ear as he whispered into it, asking for a moment alone. I nodded up at him as he stood from the arm of my chair, intertwining his fingers through mine and pulling me from my seat.

“I’m going to steal her away for a few hours before I need to get back to work.” Taft winked down at me, throwing a muscled arm over my shoulder as Ata scoffed, rolling her eyes in his direction. I stifled a laugh. I didn’t know if she was even capable of looking at him without some gesture of disapproval.

“I’ll find you in a bit,” I said to her over my shoulder as Taft pulled me away from the group, his grasp tight around my shoulders. She nodded before turning her focus back to the brothers.

“So . . . where are you taking me?” I asked with nervous anticipation as we exited the dining hall. A sly smile crossed his lips as he looked over at me.

“You’ll see.”