Chapter 6 #2
His gaze lingers on me.
“You’ll be with me this morning,” he says. “Are you ready to join me now?”
“Sure.” I rise, grabbing my tray.
Lyra winks at me as I turn.
“Well. Okay, then,” she says, grinning. “Welcome to your first day of training.”
I smile back—small, but real—then carry my tray to the drop station and follow Thane toward the doors. At the threshold, I glance back to see four pairs of eyes tracking us.
The doors to the mess hall swing shut behind us and the noise of breakfast fades into the low hum of the outpost beyond.
The hallways are long and orderly, their floors laid with dark slate tile that echo faintly beneath our boots.
Reinforced stone walls rise on either side, braced with metal framework and lit by torch sconces that flicker with elemental flame—some burning steady red, others casting a bluish glow, magics keeping them lit.
These must be magelights since they burn lower than the exterior sconces, lit by dragonflame. Everything is clean, structured.
It’s such a different world from village life.
I glance at Thane as we walk, remembering he mentioned meeting the Captain yesterday, just before the dinner.
“So . . . are you taking me to Captain Elaris?”
He gives a single nod. “Yes.”
We turn into a wider corridor, passing high windows that overlook the eastern yard. A squad of trainees is already outside, running drills in tight formation. The clang of metal and the crackle of elemental strikes echo faintly through the glass.
“Captain of what?” I ask.
“He oversees combat readiness and rotation schedules,” Thane says. “He also approves all elite unit placements. He’ll want to evaluate you himself in the future.”
More assessments. More eyes on me.
I sigh softly.
We pass beneath an arch marked with the elemental sigils—Fire, Earth, Water, Air—each one etched into stone and inlaid with gold that’s dulled over time.
Eventually, the walls shift—more polished now. Fewer torches, more cleanly humming magelights.
The command wing.
Thane stops in front of a tall wooden door reinforced with black iron bands. A brass nameplate is mounted at its center: Captain Elaris.
He glances at me. “Don’t try to impress him. Just be honest. He’s Water Clan—calm on the surface, razor underneath. Doesn’t waste words.”
Then he knocks twice, sharp and clear.
“Enter,” a voice from within commands after a beat.
Thane opens the door and steps aside, letting me go first.
The office is clean and spare, built for utility. A large desk anchors the room, covered in neatly stacked documents, maps, and a few carved stone tablets inscribed with elemental glyphs. Morning light filters through the single window behind him, catching faint motes of dust in the air.
Captain Elaris sits behind the desk. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and short-cropped black hair. His hazel eyes meet mine the moment I enter—sharp, already scrutinizing.
Water Clan. I can see it now. Calm exterior. Storm underneath.
Thane closes the door behind us, and the sound feels heavier than it should.
Captain Elaris immediately stands, posture snapping into crisp attention.
“Warlord,” he says with a respectful nod.
“Good morning, Captain,” Thane replies. “At ease.”
Elaris doesn’t sit, but he relaxes slightly—his shoulders easing, hands dropping to rest loosely at his sides. He clearly takes his job seriously.
“I wanted to introduce you to Amara Thalor,” Thane says, then nods toward me. “The Spiritborn.”
I straighten, Elaris’s gaze locking on with full attention. I can feel him weighing me, measuring what I am against what I might become.
“Good morning, Captain,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
He holds my gaze another second, then inclines his head. “Thalor.”
Thane steps forward, commanding the space with that simple action. “She’ll be training here with the others, but her path won’t follow standard progression. Her role in this war demands more. I’ll be overseeing her training personally. Alongside Valen.”
At that, Elaris’s expression shifts—just slightly. A flicker of recognition, maybe respect. Valen’s name carries weight.
“She won’t be on regular rotation yet,” Thane finishes. “When she’s ready, she’ll join the others. Until then, she’s under our direction.”
Elaris nods once. “Understood.”
“Her friend, Lyra Durnhart, will be joining the ranks as well.”
That gets a subtle lift of Elaris’s brow.
“She doesn’t wield greater Elemental magics,” Thane explains, “but she requested to train alongside the others. She’s capable, stubborn, and more dangerous with a blade than most new recruits we’ve seen.
But she is very green. She was trained in her village, but nothing more.
” He pauses for half a beat. “She’ll start with basic training.
Garrick has already seen to her squad assignment. ”
“Noted,” Elaris replies, with the same calm precision.
“Amara’s not your concern for now,” Thane adds, “but I wanted you informed.”
Elaris shifts his gaze to me again with that same steady, assessing focus.
“It doesn’t matter who you are,” he says, voice low and even. “Spiritborn, prophecy, dragon-bonded or not—it makes no difference to me.”
He taps a finger against the surface of his desk, once.
“What matters is how you train. How you carry yourself. How you respond when you’re tired, outmatched, and expected to keep going anyway.”
I meet his eyes. “Understood.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something about the tension in the room eases. Like I passed an unspoken test.
“If you’re here to work,” he says, “you’ll earn your place. And when the time comes, you’ll stand beside the others as an equal. Not a symbol or title. But as a soldier.”
“I don’t want to be seen as a title,” I say, voice quiet but firm. “I want to become strong enough to help, to hopefully stop the Shadeheart.”
That lands. Elaris doesn’t smile, but he nods once—and that seems to be enough.
Thane steps forward, tone calm but final. “That’s all for now.”
Elaris straightens just slightly, returning his focus to Thane. “I’ll be ready when she is.”
“You’ll be informed,” Thane replies. Then he glances at me. “Let’s go.”
He turns and opens the door. I follow, casting one last look at Elaris before we step into the corridor. The door closes behind us with a soft, solid click.
As we step back into the corridor, Thane doesn’t speak right away. Then he glances at me.
“Valen is expecting you for your first elemental magics session.”
My stomach flips—nerves, anticipation, maybe both.
“I’ll walk you to the outer fields,” he adds. “You’re new to the outpost. You shouldn’t have to wander on your first day.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
He gives a small tilt of his head and starts walking. I fall into step behind him.
Thane moves with deliberate precision—unhurried, but every step sure. There’s nothing careless in the way he carries himself. Walking behind him, I’m suddenly aware of how much space he takes up. His shoulders are broad enough to block the view ahead, his frame cutting a path through the corridor.
I quicken my pace to match his stride and fall in beside him. Even then, he feels . . . solid. Like the kind of man who doesn’t just pass through a place—he anchors it.
Our boots click softly against the stone as the outpost comes alive around us.
The scent of morning dew and scorched metal lingers in the air—training fields to the east, forge fires to the west. Soldiers pass by in small clusters, some saluting Thane, others nodding with quiet respect before moving on.
For a while, neither of us speak.
Then I break the silence. “Captain Elaris doesn’t waste time.”
“No,” Thane says. “He doesn’t.”
There’s a trace of something dry in his voice—amusement, maybe. Or experience.
“He’s respected,” Thane adds after a beat. “Tough, fair. And loyal. The kind of man you want watching your back.”
“And evaluating me?”
Thane glances at me. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
I nod, even though part of me still wonders what here really means.
We pass a wide arch that opens into a courtyard. Beyond it, a group of Earth Clan warriors is drilling with weighted staves, their movements precise, dust rising with each strike. One of them lets out a sharp breath as he pivots hard into a parry.
No one hesitates. No one slacks. It’s all discipline and repetition and grit.
“I’m guessing this place doesn’t do ‘easy,’” I murmur.
Thane’s mouth curves slightly. “No. But it does ‘earned.’”
We walk on, stone giving way to open archways and glimpses of the training fields beyond. Morning mist clings to the earth, and the low hum of protective wards pulses faintly in the distance.
Thane walks with that same quiet authority—controlled, steady—but now that we’re alone, I see something else in him. Not weariness exactly. Just . . . weight. Like he’s carrying more than armor and command.
So curious, I ask. “Do you ever get time to yourself?”
He doesn’t stop walking, but his eyes flick toward me. Clearly, it’s not the kind of question he usually gets.
After a moment, he exhales. “Not really.”
“No quiet mornings? No disappearing into the woods for a few hours?”
He almost smiles. Almost. “Not since I took command.”
I nod, letting that sit for a beat. “Sounds exhausting.”
“It is,” he says. Honest. Unapologetic. “But I chose it.”
“And if you hadn’t?”
He glances at me again, slower this time, like he’s weighing what to give. “Then someone else would’ve. And the realm would be worse for it.”
Either he thinks much of himself or he’s telling the truth.
The silence that follows is thoughtful. Like something unspoken just passed between us.
Ahead, the outer fields come into view. The grass is still damp with morning dew, and Valen waits at the edge of a stone-marked training ring, staff in hand, robes catching the breeze.
Thane slows as we reach the path’s end. “Valen is expecting you,” he says. “This is where it begins.”
I nod, pulse kicking up a notch.