Chapter eighteen- Dawn training
Liora woke long before dawn. Not with a jolt, not from a nightmare—just awake, as if her body had never truly surrendered to sleep.
Her eyes opened to darkness, the faintest silver glow leaking through the narrow dormitory window.
The air was cold and unmoving, thick with the kind of silence that only existed before the world remembered to breathe.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, her heart already beating too fast. She hadn't slept.
Not really. Every time she drifted close, Kael's voice dragged her back.
Either you accept it... or you fail. The words had followed her into the thin hours of the night, circling her mind like a predator.
She had turned them over again and again, searching for something else in them—a hidden meaning, a softness, a crack. There was none. Kael didn't crack.
Liora exhaled slowly, her breath trembling in the cold air.
She pushed herself upright, the thin blanket sliding off her shoulders.
Her muscles ached from yesterday's drills—a deep, bone?heavy ache that made her feel older than she was.
Across the room, Seris slept soundly, her breathing soft and steady, infuriatingly peaceful.
Even in sleep, Seris looked composed—hair perfectly braided, posture straight, expression calm.
Liora envied her. She envied the ease, the confidence, the way Seris seemed to glide through the Academy as if she belonged here. Liora didn't. Not yet.
She stood slowly, careful not to make the floorboards creak.
She dressed in the same training clothes she'd worn yesterday—still damp with sweat, but she didn't have the luxury of caring.
She tied her hair back with shaking fingers.
Her boots felt heavy in her hands. If she put them on, she was going.
If she didn't... she wasn't. Her heart pounded.
She slipped them on. The leather creaked softly—too softly for Seris to stir.
Liora froze anyway, breath held, waiting. Seris didn't move.
Liora exhaled silently and reached for her cloak.
She pulled it around her shoulders, then stepped toward the door.
Her hand hovered over the handle. She could still turn back.
She could still pretend she never agreed.
She could still choose safety. But safety had never been real here. She opened the door.
The hallway was dark, lit only by a few dying lanterns. The air smelled of stone and cold. Liora moved quietly, her footsteps soft against the floor. Every sound felt too loud. When she reached the outer door, she paused. Ashwing. He would be waiting. He always was. She stepped outside.
The cold hit her immediately—sharp, biting, sinking into her bones.
The sky was still black, but the horizon held the faintest hint of blue.
Fog curled low across the ground, swirling around her ankles as she walked.
Ashwing lifted his head the moment he sensed her.
He was curled beside the dormitory wall, wings tucked tight, tail wrapped around his body.
His eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, reflecting the moonlight. He rumbled softly, a questioning sound.
"I have to go," she whispered.
Ashwing stood, stretching his wings slightly before folding them again. He stepped closer, lowering his head until his snout brushed her shoulder. His breath was warm, comforting. He knew something was wrong. He always knew. Liora placed a hand on his scales.
"I'll be back before anyone wakes up."
Ashwing huffed, a low, disapproving sound.
"I know," she murmured. "I know you don't like it."
He nudged her gently, as if urging her to stay. Her throat tightened.
"I have to."
Ashwing's eyes narrowed, but he stepped back, allowing her to pass. He didn't like it—but he trusted her.
Liora walked into the fog. The Academy grounds were silent, the world holding its breath.
The training fields loomed ahead, dark shapes rising from the mist. The forbidden section—the one no students were allowed to use unsupervised—lay beyond the main grounds, hidden behind a row of tall stone pillars.
She approached them slowly. The fog thickened here, swirling around the pillars like something alive.
The air felt colder, heavier. Her footsteps softened, swallowed by the mist.
She stepped through.
The world changed. The fog muffled sound, swallowing her breath, her heartbeat, her doubts. The training grounds stretched out before her—empty, vast, silent. And then she saw him.
Kael stood in the center of the field, motionless. He wasn't leaning. He wasn't pacing. He wasn't waiting impatiently. He was simply there—a dark silhouette against the pale fog, arms crossed, posture rigid, gaze fixed on her the moment she stepped into view. He had been waiting.
"You came," Kael said.
"You told me to."
"I told you the truth," Kael replied. "What you do with it is your choice."
"Are you ready?"
Liora nodded.
"No," Kael said. "You're not."
He stepped back. "Begin."
Liora forced her feet apart, grounding herself the way she'd seen the others do in training.
Her muscles protested immediately—stiff, sore, unprepared for what was coming.
She lifted her hands, unsure of the exact position but trying to mimic what she remembered.
The fog pressed against her skin, cold and heavy, and Kael's silhouette remained carved out of the mist like a statue, unmoving and unreadable.
"Wrong," Kael said.
He stepped closer, boots silent on the damp ground. He didn't touch her—not even a brush of fingers—but he circled her with the precision of someone assessing a weapon for flaws.
"Your weight is uneven," he said. "You're leaning forward."
"I'm not—"
"You are."
She swallowed and adjusted her stance.
"Your shoulders are tense."
"I'm trying—"
"Trying is not enough."
He stopped in front of her again, arms still crossed. "Reset."
Liora exhaled shakily and stepped back into position. Her legs trembled slightly, but she forced them to hold steady.
"Again," Kael said.
She lifted her hands.
"Lower."
She lowered them.
"Too low."
She raised them.
"Your elbows are collapsing."
She adjusted.
"Your stance is unstable."
She shifted her weight.
"Your breathing is uneven."
"I'm doing the best I can," she said.
"No," Kael replied. "You're doing what you think is enough."
"I don't know what you want from me."
"Precision."
He stepped back. "Again."
Liora reset her stance. Her arms ached. Her legs burned. Her breath fogged in front of her, uneven and shallow. The cold seeped into her bones, but Kael's voice cut through it with the same sharp clarity.
"Your mind is elsewhere," he said.
"No, it's not."
"It is."
He stepped closer—still not touching her, still maintaining that strict, controlled distance—but close enough that she felt the weight of his presence.
"You're thinking about what you heard," he said. "About the experiments."
Liora's breath caught.
"You're thinking about whether you can trust me."
She didn't answer.
"You're thinking," Kael said, "instead of learning."
"I can't just forget what I heard," she whispered.
"I'm not asking you to forget," Kael said. "I'm asking you to focus."
"Why?" she asked. "Why do you care if I learn anything at all?"
"I don't," Kael said.
"You are not my responsibility. No one assigned you to me. No one asked me to be here."
"Then why—"
"Because you are weak," Kael said. "And weakness gets people killed."
The words hit harder than any strike. Liora's breath stuttered, but Kael didn't pause.
"Again."
She forced her body into position. Her arms shook. Her breath stuttered. The fog clung to her skin like ice.
"Lower your center of gravity."
She bent her knees.
"Not that much."
She adjusted.
"Your left foot is drifting."
She corrected.
"Your right shoulder is rising."
She exhaled sharply.
"I'm trying—"
"Trying," Kael said, "is what people say when they are preparing to fail."
"That's not fair."
"Fairness is irrelevant."
"What matters is whether you can follow instruction."
"I can."
"Then prove it."
She reset her stance again. Her muscles screamed in protest. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. Sweat gathered at her temples despite the cold.
"Hold," Kael said.
She held, forcing her trembling arms to stay raised even as her muscles burned.
Her legs wavered beneath her, threatening to collapse, but she dragged herself upright again with a desperate breath.
She held, even as her lungs seized and her breath collapsed into short, broken gasps.
She held, though her vision blurred at the edges and the world narrowed to fog and pain.
She held because stopping meant failing, and failing meant proving Kael right—and she refused to give him that.
"Reset," Kael said.
She collapsed out of the stance, gasping for breath. Her knees nearly buckled, but she steadied herself with a hand on her thigh. Kael didn't move. He didn't offer help. He simply waited.
"Again."
Liora forced herself upright again, her legs trembling beneath her. The cold air stung her lungs, each breath scraping painfully as she tried to steady herself. The fog had thickened, swallowing the edges of the field until it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
"Footwork," Kael said. "Now."
"I— I don't know the pattern."
"You'll learn it."
He stepped back. "Forward. Back. Left. Right. Keep your center steady."
Liora tried. Her feet dragged. Her balance wavered. Her body felt heavy and uncoordinated, exhaustion turning her limbs into stone.
"You're moving like you expect to fall," Kael said.
"I'm exhausted."
"That is irrelevant."
She stumbled through the pattern again, her movements clumsy and uneven.
"Your feet are too slow."
"I'm going as fast as I can."
"No," Kael said. "You're going as fast as your fear allows."
She pushed harder, forcing her feet to move quicker. The fog blurred her peripheral vision, making the world feel unstable.
She misstepped.
"Again," Kael said.
She reset, chest heaving.
"Forward."
She stepped.
"Back."
She stumbled.
"Left."
Her foot slid.
"Right."
She nearly fell.
"You're reacting," Kael said. "Not anticipating."
"I'm trying—"
"Stop trying."
"Move."
Liora forced her body through the pattern again. Her legs shook violently now, her breath coming in broken gasps. Panic crept in at the edges—tightening her chest, narrowing her vision.
"Your breathing is collapsing," Kael said.
"I know—"
"Fix it."
She tried, but her lungs felt too tight. She pitched forward, barely catching herself.
"Again."
"I can't keep—"
"You can."
"You simply don't want to."
"That's not true."
"Then prove it."
She forced herself into the pattern again. Her movements were sloppy, but she kept going. Forward. Back. Left. Right. Her legs burned. Her lungs screamed. Her vision blurred.
Her legs finally gave out. She hit the ground hard, palms scraping against the cold earth.
"Stand," Kael said.
"I can't."
"Yes," Kael said. "You can."
"You're not done."
"You're not broken."
"You're not finished."
"Stand."
And somehow—she did.
"Again," Kael said.
She obeyed.
He struck her guard. She blocked. He struck again. She missed. He struck again. She barely caught it.
"You hesitated," Kael said.
"I— I didn't—"
"You did."
"Reset."
She lifted her arms again, though they trembled violently.
"Your reactions are collapsing," Kael said.
"I know—"
"Correct it."
He struck again. She missed entirely. His hand stopped a breath from her throat.
"You would be dead."
"I'm trying—"
"Trying is irrelevant."
"What do you want from me?"
"Competence."
"Again."
She lifted her arms. He struck. She blocked. He struck. She missed. She fell.
"Stand," Kael said.
"I don't— I don't know if I can—"
"You can."
"Last drill," Kael said. "Endurance."
"For how long?"
"Until you break," Kael said. "Or until you don't."
Liora lifted her arms. They shook violently. Her breath trembled. Her vision blurred. The fog pressed against her skin like ice, but she forced herself to hold her guard.
"Hold," Kael said.
She held, her arms trembling violently as the cold fog pressed against her skin.
Her legs buckled beneath her, threatening to collapse entirely, but she dragged herself upright again with a desperate, stubborn breath.
She held, even as her lungs seized and her breath collapsed into short, broken gasps that scraped painfully in her chest. She held, though her vision went white at the edges and the world narrowed to a blur of fog and pain.
She held because stopping meant failing, was no longer an option.
"Enough," Kael said.
Her arms dropped instantly. Her entire body sagged, trembling violently. She nearly fell, but caught herself at the last second.
"Tomorrow," Kael said. "Same time."
"T?Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"You will be better."
He turned and disappeared into the fog.
Liora stood alone in the cold, shaking, breathless, exhausted beyond anything she had ever known. But she didn't fall. Not this time.