Chapter 5
Five
Welcome to the Iron Guard
We were led through a narrow passage in the rockface. The line narrowing as we climbed over the rocks and into a large courtyard. Torches flickered against stone pillars, illuminating a large fenced-off area.
“Those are the fighting pits,” Orin said as we walked past.
Other squads moved in tight formations around us, their chatter blending into the steady thud of boots scuffing the ground.
The barracks loomed over the fighting pits; large steps led to double iron doors that were jarred open.
We followed him inside, and the scent of steel and smoke from the torches clung to the air. I had only walked up two steps when a shiver crawled up my spine.
I looked over my shoulder at the large pillars that seemed to be the entrance to the fighting pits.
“Why does it feel like death there? What are those pillars used for?” I asked, pointing at the large beam joining the two pillars. The others gave me an odd look, stopping as Orin raised an eyebrow at me.
“Sacrificing the weak and disobedient,” he said before continuing to walk up the stairs and through the doors.
The cold pressed deeper, threading beneath my skin, clinging like something unseen had taken notice. Or perhaps I was just exhausted.
“Ah, the charm of military life. The ever-present smell of crushed dreams and the threat of death.” Riven spread his arms out wide, looking around the dimly lit foyer. If it weren’t filled with initiates right now, it would be scarcely empty.
“You don’t take anything seriously, do you?” Orin said, shooting him a sharp look.
“Of course I do. I’m going to take being a pain in your ass very seriously.”
Orin exhaled through his nose and a man with sandy blond hair tied into a bun placed his hand on his shoulder. I eyed the orange band on his bicep; he must be our corporal.
“Making friends already Riven?” Dreya asked mockingly, glancing back over her shoulder at him.
Riven gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, I think he likes me.”
“I’d think I would prefer the company of a Fae,” Orin scoffed.
Riven clutched his chest in mock hurt, but Orin ignored him, leading us further into the barracks as the crowd began to clear.
“That’s the auditorium. You will have theoretical class there. Mess hall is down that way, but we will show you that tomorrow.”
We stood at the base of a large spiralling staircase, Orin pointing down a long high vaulted hallway. I had thought Stonebriar castle felt cold, but the barracks made it feel like a cozy cottage in comparison.
I found myself walking next to Dreya on the steps, Orin and our lieutenant in front of us. I hesitated, unsure how to even begin, then finally spoke.
“Thank you.” She arched a strong brow at me, as if questioning my appreciation.
“For tackling my brother, the prince, to the ground and, for not yelling for the guards when you saw my face. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if they were going to let you Ascend after you did that.”
“They figured the Gods would kill me for my transgression, and I figured you were running from something bad.” She leant in and lowered her voice. “Though I do have questions about why you stabbed the priest.
“I don’t know how to repay you,” I replied, ignoring her question.
“Just survive.”
Somehow that statement felt easier said than done, I hadn’t really considered what surviving would entail.
Find the pieces.
The whisper wracked through me; I stumbled on the step and my breath caught. Dreya shot me a questioning look as I gripped the wrought iron railing, but she didn’t say anything. I was grateful for that.
By the time we reached the fifth floor, my legs felt unsteady, and my heartbeat seemed to pound in my ears.
We followed Orin into a wide hallway that seemed to breathe darkness. Arched wooden doors carved into the stone on both sides. The torches sputtered as though choking on their own smoke, their frail light birthing shadows that writhed along the walls like starving fingers reaching for flesh.
Tingling stretched over my neck as though I was being watched.
My eyes were pulled to the winding staircase looming above me that seemed to vanish into darkness so thick that I couldn’t see through it.
Faint voices drifted through the inky void from below. The darkness shifted, and I struggled to focus, as though something unseen had just moved.
“Are you coming?”
I jumped at Dreya’s voice, not realising the rest of my squad had gone further down the hallway.
“Yes,” I muttered and followed her.
Orin opened the first door on the right and stood aside, gesturing us to enter.
“Welcome to your new home,” he said dryly.
“All of us?” a flaxen-haired woman who stood two feet taller than me questioned.
“Shared bunks build camaraderie,” Orin replied in a clipped tone.
I didn’t remember him being this clipped.
But, if anyone understood how time could change someone, it was me.
Casting one last glance at the spiral staircase, I followed the others into the room.
But something, or someone, was watching me.
A large, windowless room greeted me, seven beds evenly spaced apart.
The air was thick with mildew and woodsmoke from a dim fire flickering in the open hearth.
The sheets looked rough and threadbare, the walls veiled in cobwebs, and a wooden door set into the stone led to what I assumed was a shared washroom.
I had expected luxury, but standing in the dim light, surrounded by such stark simplicity, a quiet shame crept over me.
I had been wrapped in comfort my whole life and this was a stark comparison to what I was used to.
“This is Bohdi. First Squad’s corporal, my second in command.”
The man with dark-blond hair loosely tied back with a few strands escaping to frame his sun-kissed face who had walked with us.
His eyes were a deep blue; the colour I imagined the sky would be beneath the clouds that cursed our skies.
I wouldn’t know though, because I had never seen it.
He felt bright and warm, his soft smile radiated compassion as he lifted his hand in a small wave.
“Welcome to First Squad. It is my job to look after you, help you survive the first year. After that, you will be incorporated into the Army of Iron. I know how hard the adjustment can be to military life, so if any of you need to talk, I am here for you.”
A strange feeling of peace washed through me, tension dripping from my shoulders like wax from a melting candle.
“Stop using your Sanctum on them!” Orin snapped, hitting Bohdi across the shoulder with the back of his hand.
The peaceful feeling eroded as quickly as it had settled on me, the hard reality of fear, uncertainty and the weight of my decisions came crashing back with such vengeance it took my breath away.
“You’re an empath?” Riven beamed. “I bet you get lucky with that little trick all the time.”
“Enough.” Orin rubbed his jaw in frustration before sitting on the bed closest to the door. “We are expected to train in only a few hours.”
“You will find towels already hung for each of you and clean clothes folded on the benches. I know how new this all feels, but I promise you will settle in.” Bohdi’s warmness radiated into me, and I wondered if he was using his Sanctum again or if he naturally oozed kindness.
The bathing chamber was damp with the scent of old stone, and the six exposed showerheads that lined the walls offered no privacy.
The flaxen-haired woman shed her sodden clothes with ease, unbothered. A man with tanned skin and a crooked nose from too many fights followed, lining his boots neatly against the wall.
I hesitated, dripping and cold with Riven and Dreya at my back.
“What’s wrong, Princess?” the woman with flaxen hair seethed. “This is the world your family built for us. Honestly, I hope you suffer in it as much as we have.” Her words hit harder than I expected, the room shrinking, the air thickening.
“I have suffered,” I said softly. Who was she to judge me? The woman laughed mockingly, anger swirling through my veins.
Dreya cut in, unimpressed. “Shut it, Hadley.”
Hadley rolled her eyes, still chuckling as she stepped under the spray of water.
Drown her.
The whisper slithered through me, and for a heartbeat, my vision darkened. The water seemed to bend towards me, begging to be commanded.
I tore my gaze away and said nothing, ignoring the voice and the strange sensation buzzing beneath my skin.
Riven stretched his arms behind his head with a lazy grin, shamelessly watching Hadley’s naked form. “Thank the Gods for camaraderie.”
Dreya punched him in the shoulder, the easy familiarity between them catching me off guard. She noticed my stare and only shrugged. “We are both from the slums. My mother gave him shelter this year’s snowstorms in exchange for his thieving skills. Hadley is from the slums as well.”
“It’s a shame I won’t have to steal anymore, really.
I was a damn good thief.” Though, I hardly heard his words, the room narrowing around him.
He pulled his shirt over his head slowly.
Deliberately. As if the act itself were an invitation to look.
Compact muscle revealed inch by inch, openly on display.
He did not rush, letting the moment linger.
I suddenly understood his confidence. His gaze flicked to mine, just long enough to confirm I was watching, and a slow, knowing satisfaction settled into his posture.
A silver mark seared into the side of his ribs, shaped like a flickering flame. Something cold slid down my spine.
I knew that shape. It was the same as the curse nestled between my breasts. Riven noticed my gaze but said nothing.
“Like what you see, Princess?” He winked at me, unbuckling his belt.
I said nothing, I didn’t need to. The flush of my skin answered him enough. Did he hear things that were not real, like me?
“I’m going to wash the scent of death ritual off. Try not to stare at my ass,” he grinned and walked towards one of the free showers. “Or do.” Dreya scoffed and rolled her eyes.
With a sharp breath, I peeled off my slip, the fabric clinging stubbornly before landing on the ground with a wet thud.
The dim light and rising steam blurred the edges of my form, offering little coverage. But I hoped it was enough to hide my scars from the others.
The hot water struck my skin like a cleansing tide, unravelling the tension coiled tight in my shoulders.
I did it. I was free. The priest was dead, and my father no longer controlled me.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I made no sound as they fell, dissolving into the water as if they had never existed.
I reached for the bottled soap, but something caught my eye.
A mirror stood just beyond the edge of the steam.
I tried to turn away before I could see my reflection, but a chill slid down my spine despite the heat of the shower. It burrowed deep in my bones, as if something unseen had coiled around me, watching…waiting.
Movement flickered at the edge of my vision. My gaze snapped up, locking onto the mirror. Teal eyes stared back, haunted and rimmed with exhaustion.
I barely recognized the girl looking at me. My silver hair clung to my shoulders, trailing over the scars that marked every inch of my back.
Beyond the reflection, shapes bled into the drifting haze. Wisps coiling through the steam, stretching into figures that drifted unnaturally.
My breath caught. I knew this feeling: the cold hush, the invisible pull, the sense that even the world itself was holding its breath. Ghosts.
Find the pieces. Find the pieces. Find the pieces.
The whispers slithered through me, and before I could stop myself my lips parted.
A single note escaped, threading into a soft, haunting melody.
The dead stilled.
They are not real. I reminded myself as I sung.
Yet the steam shivered at my voice, and one by one the figures unravelled, edges fraying into nothing as the song wrapped around them.
The chill broke. The haze went still.
I pressed my palm to the cool tile, swallowing hard as my song died in my throat.
Behind me, the other initiates had quieted. They always did when I sang, captivated by notes they didn’t understand. That was why Father forbade it. Why he called my voice a curse.
I cut the song off sharply. The silence seemed louder than the melody as I wrapped a towel around myself. I kept my eyes trained on the ground as I walked through the steam, the weight of their eyes pressing down on me.