Chapter 11
Tomorrow would mark the first day of Eibhlín, the phase of the year when cold began its descent into the realm and light disappeared from the sky earlier each day. My eyes were fighting ferociously to stay closed.
I had reviewed the paperwork General Ashford provided about the Guard and how it was structured. Important information, no doubt. But mind numbingly boring to read.
The Guard was divided into five distinct factions. Base was the foundation, made up of guards who policed the cities and maintained the infrastructure that supported the realm, manning forts, bridges and checkpoints between regions.
Next, there was Faction Immunity, the medics, who possessed the ability to heal in a variety of ways. Their focuses were invaluable in the aftermath of an attack, weaving enchantments and stitching wounds that most could not even attempt.
Then there was the combat triad. Faction Scales was made up of infantry guards, employing those with a focus that amplified strength and agility. They were the shield against invasion, the first line to absorb an oncoming attack .
Faction Fang was the artillery. Their focuses enhanced the effectiveness of ranged combat, holding down the major forts from an elevated angle, blasting canons and arrows with deadly precision.
The third in the triad was General Ashford’s unit. They operated outside of typical protocol, and played by different rules. They were the secret weapon. The ones who went in for the final kill.
Faction Venom.
A uniform ranking system was the only thing that connected us to the different sections.
Recruits ascended through the ranks, from initiate to officer, lieutenant, and finally, general, who answered directly to the King.
But the last was reserved for a select few who possessed not only combat prowess but also the strategic sharpness to command armies.
Each faction was marked by a distinct shade from Sídhe’s palette. Base was a deep, forest green. Immunity, a subtle blend of moss and beige. Scales was silver; and Fang, a burnished gold.
Venom, of course, was black.
I would wear black.
My thoughts shifted back to what was to come of the day.
The General was insufferable already… I couldn’t even imagine the horrors that awaited me at the gym. Intuition told me his mind games would be in full swing.
Just get through this first day. Then you’ll know what to expect.
Shaking off the anxiety, I stood and stared into the pantry, my vision unfocused, unsure if I could stomach anything this morning.
The compounding uncertainty was putting me on edge.
In less than an hour, I would be alone with the predator. A shudder ran through me as it sank in. He could kill me, and no one would ever know about it. There’d certainly be no repercussions.
But then he’d forfeit a potential weapon. That was keeping me alive, at least.
A Riftborne wouldn't survive long in the Guard. I’d never heard of one joining; it seemed sacrilegious. I was a mouse in a sea of serpents. If he wasn’t the one to kill me, I’m sure someone else would find the opportunity far too tempting.
But spiraling was going to get me exactly nowhere.
Osta, bless her optimistic heart, had already left for work, leaving me to wrestle with my clothes.
Yesterday, she showered me with good luck wishes, blissfully unaware of the dread churning in my gut.
Mentioning the guard sighting felt pointless.
I wouldn't burden her with my worries. Deep down, I knew it was coming, but seeing him there.
.. It shook me more than I expected. I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus. Next time, I'd be ready.
The General hadn’t specified anything that I needed to bring with me apart from myself. He also hadn’t told me what to wear. Maybe it didn’t matter.
What does one wear to mental gymnastics practice, anyway?
Sighing, I opted for fitted trousers–soft, stretchy and allowing for movement. A long-sleeve top of the same material hugged my shoulders.
All black. It felt appropriate. He seemed fond enough of the color.
I stole one last glance in the mirror, making a sorry attempt to tuck my loose curls back into their tie.
Black really had a way of accentuating my…
everything. A wave of self-consciousness washed over me, and I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly dissatisfied with my reflection.
Pacing over to my makeshift closet, I yanked out a cloak and draped it over my shoulders before shuffling out of the apartment.
The meeting place was close to the Apothecary, which made finding my way easy enough. It was a private gym that I must have passed over a hundred times but had never paid any attention to.
My steps slowed as I neared the entrance. The outside of the building was lined with reflective glass. I’m sure that if he was inside looking out, he could see the reluctance in my approach.
This is for the best .
Tentatively, I pushed my way through the door. The General was, in fact, not actually gawking at me from behind the glass. His back was turned, giving me a view of his broad shoulders and the fiery copper hair he had pulled together with a strap of leather at the nape of his neck.
I cleared my throat.
“A moment,” he said flatly, not even giving me the courtesy of turning around.
Jackass.
My eyes scanned the surroundings. It was a lot of what you’d expect to see in a gym–sparring mats, weights, machines that looked like advanced recreations of torture devices. Silver glass lined a full wall on the left.
Mirrors, perfect.
The citrusy aroma of cleaning products hung in the air, mingling with a touch of metallic sharpness. I paced the length of the room trying to look occupied, avoiding my reflection.
“I’m glad you made it on time, though that’s an interesting outfit choice. Did you think we would be doing hand-to-hand combat?” The General glanced at me briefly, finally deigning to acknowledge my existence. He seemed amused.
A blush of embarrassment heated my face.
“You didn’t exactly give me a dress code. I had absolutely no idea what to expect.” My arms crossed instinctively, a small attempt at hiding my uncertainty.
The General was draped in his basic military uniform: a well-pressed, black, cotton shirt with the special insignia of his faction, trousers, a sturdy, unadorned belt to secure his waist. Black lace-up combat boots completed the ensemble.
“Your eagerness is endearing, truly,” he remarked, brushing past me. “But today we’re starting with the basics.”
My eyebrow peaked. “And we do that, how?”
He pulled two chairs from the wall, bringing them to the center of the room to face each other, closer than I would have liked. He sat in one, his legs splaying out to either side before gesturing to the other.
“Sit.”
I decided it best not to argue. I followed his demand and slithered past him, sinking into the chair while carefully avoiding physical contact.
Placing my hands onto my lap, I became acutely aware of his eyes on me. His stare was penetrative, bearing down with an annoying intensity. I did my best to keep my composure.
Beyond his glare, his proximity itself was unnerving, stifling out any confidence I had been clinging to since waking.
“Do you always look this exhausted? I figured you would at least do your part and attempt a good night's rest before today,” he asserted before sighing and slumping a bit in his chair.
First my outfit, now this?
“Unfortunately for you, this is my permanent state. Doesn’t matter how much rest I get.” I glowered at him, painfully aware of the impression that my pale skin and dark circles gave off.
“Good to know.” He yawned.
Such a beautiful face wasted on such a rotten personality.
His typical eerie amusement was gone, replaced with a calculating stare that had me shifting in my seat.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, sliding to the edge of the chair. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees.
My eyelids seemed to be frozen. Was it really necessary for him to be this close? He could kill me in a second, with a single movement, and he expected me to trust him enough to close my damn eyes.
“I won’t ask again.” Impatience laced his tone.
There was a darkness in his irises now. I exhaled sharply and finally forced mine closed. But the nerves were still racing along my skin.
“Steady yourself. I can practically see your heartbeat in your throat.”
How perceptive. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath, allowing myself to relax. Well, as much as I could given the situation.
“Your body is a conduit for your power. Think of where you feel it originate–the part of you from which it emerges. That will be your center. Visualize it happening and pay attention.” His voice took on a calmer tone.
My eyebrows scrunched as I looked into the blackness of my mind, hoping to see some spark of… something . But all I could find was utter darkness.
“What do you see?” he asked quietly.
“The backs of my eyelids.”
The sound of him shifting in his seat rang through the silence of the room. I didn’t know what more to do. His instructions were vague and glaringly useless.
“Try harder.” His voice was clipped. “Everyone has the ability to channel. Essence pulses through every fiber in the Isle, and that includes you…” He trailed off.
“Your focus is the result of harnessing and directing that essence, manipulating it to serve you. Everyone has a different access point. We just have to find yours.” He exhaled.
“Listen to your body. Seek out the source. It’s in there somewhere.” His voice was gentle now.
It seemed like I was missing some key factor. It wasn’t long before I felt ridiculous staring into the endless void.
Was he just sitting there watching me struggle?
“What do you mean listen to my body, seek out the source? That doesn’t even make sense. I have no idea what I’m looking for.”
“Well, you know this feeling better than anyone. Think back to the first time you used your focus. How old were you? What did you feel?”
“It’s not that simple.” My eyes opened, locking with his.
I’d forgotten how close he was.
“As I’ve told you before, it’s only happened when my emotions were at their peak.
Usually, it feels like my whole body is pulsing, not just a singular point,” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“It’s a rather overwhelming feeling, as I’m sure you can imagine.
You saw it first-hand.” I fought off an eye roll.
“You need to learn to access your focus while also being of sound mind. Trying to harness this in a heightened state will get you killed. The real enemy will take advantage of a distraction like that. Every. Single. Time. We have to get around it.” Real enemy?
Who was he kidding? Sídhe hadn’t seen a real threat since the end of the Rebellion.
“I’ve never been able to do that–”
He raised his hand, cutting me off. “It’s called training for a reason. Eyes closed.”
Rolling my shoulders back, I tried to clear my mind, which was next to impossible. I closed my eyes and slid my hands under my legs, attempting to refocus.
“Take yourself back to those moments, walk yourself through what you were feeling, not emotionally, but physically.”
I tried the exercise, but the memories I had of using my focus were shrouded in chaos and fear. It was all a jumbled blur.
He must have sensed my frustration. “Try focusing on your individual extremities. Don't overwhelm yourself with everything at once. Start with your hands. It could be a quick flash. Heat, electricity, static, light, a color in your mind, even. Think of it as a trigger point.”
My attention shifted to my hands. I set them in my lap, palms upward. With my eyes still closed, I began to visualize them, feeling for any pulses or heat. Nothing.
“I don’t think it’s my hands,” I mumbled, more to myself.
“It’s been less than two minutes, Fia,” he deadpanned.
This is going to be an excruciatingly long day.
An eternity passed with no progress. Mastery in a day was never my anticipation, but I’d hoped for some sort of advancement. If anything, today reinforced the notion that this endeavor was likely a colossal waste of time for all parties involved.
I’d tried zoning in on my damned pinky toe for half an hour.
By the time the General glanced at the clock and realized we’d been at this for four hours, his frustration mirrored my own.
“Unfortunately, we have to call it a day. I have a meeting soon that I need to begin preparing for.” His chair legs screeched against the floor and my eyes snapped open. He rolled his neck and shoulders.
“This was fun and all, but please tell me you have alternative plans moving forward?” I questioned.
His jaw twitched, but he stood still, staring straight ahead.
“Yes, well I’m hoping you’ll try harder next time,” he said flatly, turning towards the door. He didn’t give me a second glance before sauntering off.
I shot up from the chair, taking long strides to catch up to him.
“Still so sure this isn’t a huge waste of time?” I chided.
“I’ll see you the day after next. The second day of Eibhlín, if I’m not mistaken.” The General stepped aside and held the door open for me. I sighed, brushing past him.
“Can’t wait.” I could barely contain my sarcasm.
I didn’t dare look back as I stomped off in the direction of the apartment. The last four hours and my lack of progress would surely be running on repeat in my mind for the remainder of the afternoon.
The General’s presence might have been the problem. How could anyone focus with such asinine prompts?
I could have sworn the weight of his gaze lingered on me until I reached the peak of the hill.