Day Two – Breakfast and Broken Disguises

  Velka was the first to wake up, as always. She got up without a sound, stretching like a satisfied cat before turning toward me with a mischievous smile.

  —Good morning, wifey —she whispered softly in my ear—. I hope you dreamed of your favorite spouse.

  I opened my eyes suddenly, still half-asleep.

  —Velka, it’s… six a.m. Even dignity hasn’t gotten out of bed yet.

  —Which makes it the perfect time to practice it —she replied in that voice that always hovered between teasing and sincerity.

  Neyra groaned from the upper bunk.

  —Can you not flirt before breakfast? I’m having nightmares about tax forms and now kisses too.

  Caelia was already sitting up in her bed, brushing her hair with almost military precision. Her straight hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, each movement methodical.

  —We have two hours before the first training block for expressions. Better not waste them.

  —Yes, yes, Elsa Voigt —Velka scoffed, rummaging through the wardrobe—. Though you should wear something that says “mysterious military liaison” and not “I escaped from a diplomatic funeral.”

  —Neutrality is useful —Caelia replied without turning around.

  I sat up, letting the sheet fall over my legs. I still felt the weight of sleep, but it wasn’t physical fatigue. It was something else… something that had lingered from the night before. As if the memory of the sword was still pulsing inside me.

  —What am I even supposed to wear today? Something comfy or “professional magical containment specialist and model wife” attire?

  —With a name that long, anything you wear sounds elegant —Neyra laughed, pulling out a hoodie that was definitely not part of the official uniform—. I vote for something without buttons. I hate buttons.

  Velka tossed a shirt into the air and it landed right on my face.

  —Wear that, Carolin. So you look like a real wife. Slightly disheveled but charming.

  —This has a drawing of a cat holding a knife, Velka.

  —Exactly like you. Small and emotionally armed.

  We laughed. The humor, however absurd, helped ease the weight we all carried.

  Before long, we left the dorm and headed down to the main dining hall. There weren’t many personel at that hour—just a few soldiers and administrative staff. The food was basic: dark bread, cold fruit, strong coffee.

  Velka served herself a double portion.

  —I’ve earned it today —she said, popping a whole strawberry into her mouth—. We’re improvising a married couple convo in front of Caelia and Neyra, and if I mess it up, this wifey will divorce me before lunch.

  —That’s already being considered —I muttered, pretending to review my papers.

  —Already fighting this early? —Neyra asked with a grin between bites.

  Caelia sighed.

  —At some point, you’ll have to learn how to argue like real spouses, not like comedians.

  Velka narrowed her eyes.

  —And what do you know about marriage, Elsa?

  —I know how to fake affection perfectly. It’s a diplomatic skill.

  —And that explains everything —I said, prompting a round of laughter.

  For a few minutes, we were just that: four magical girls eating together. No titles, no masks. Just friends, still learning how to wear a disguise without forgetting who they were underneath.

  Then, with our trays emptied, we rose in silence. Day two had officially begun.

  Practice room #1

  The practice room was lit with a warm glow that barely countered the cold air sneaking in through the cracks in the windows. Along the walls, full-body mirrors reflected our movements, repeating each gesture, each expression, each moment of doubt between trial and error.

  In front of me, Velka practiced a serene smile—the kind “Susanne Weber” might wear during a casual academic lunch. Her lips curved with elegance, but her eyes still sparkled with mischief.

  —“Like this?” —she asked, looking at me without dropping the smile—. “Or do I look too friendly to be your wife?”

  —“You look like you're about to sell me a meditation subscription,” —I replied with a grimace—. “But calmer than yesterday, so that’s progress.”

  —“We’re getting there,” —Velka laughed.

  Caelia stood in front of her mirror, posture so perfect she might have been sketched by a ruler. Her face rehearsed a neutral expression, firm yet composed. Elsa Voigt didn’t smile. Elsa assessed.

  Neyra, meanwhile, was covering her mouth to stop from giggling as she performed a clumsy bow.

  —“Is this how I greet the high command? Or do I look like a peasant who snuck into a gala?”

  —“More like a noblewoman with a hangover,” —Caelia muttered, still watching herself—. “Don’t move your shoulders so much.”

  —“Yes, ma’am,” —Neyra replied, mock-serious.

  I was practicing Carolin’s mannerisms: the serious, but not distant way she looked at people. The way she moved her hands, like holding invisible energy between her palms. I felt like an actress in a role I didn’t fully understand—but at least my knees weren’t shaking anymore.

  Then Caelia let out a sharp breath and dropped her arms, frustration breaking through Elsa’s poise.

  —“I don’t even have them yet, and I can already imagine what those cursed heels will be like. Thin heels. Torture devices…”

  —“High heels?” —I asked, glancing at her bare feet—. “Are they really that bad? I have only used small ones”

  Caelia turned to me slowly, like I’d asked if knives were sharp.

  —“Yes, Lyss. They are an ancestral punishment. It’s as if some demon from the past decided women shouldn’t walk with dignity. And that demon succeeded.”

  Velka nodded, for once without a trace of sarcasm.

  —“They ruin your balance, bite your ankles, and if you have to run… forget it. They’re elegance traps that punish you with every step.”

  —“Don’t even get me started on the narrow toes!” —Neyra added with horror—. “I can barely fit my feet into regular boots. Heels? Never.”

  —“So…” —I said softly—. “What if Elsa needs to run?”

  —“She doesn’t,” —Caelia said flatly—. “Elsa orders someone else to run for her.”

  We all laughed, but it was a soft, almost resigned kind of laughter. The kind you use when you know worse things are coming. Because beyond the jokes, the shoes would arrive, and the hairstyles, the costumes… and the real tests.

  —“Alright,” —I said, shrugging—. “Let’s keep practicing. Before the heels come and make us bleed from the inside.”

  —“That was a very Carolin thing to say,” —Velka noted, tapping my arm—. “I’m proud of you, wife.”

  —“Velka…”

  —“Okay, okay,” —she laughed, raising her hands—. “Serious. Serious. Elsa is watching.”

  Caelia didn’t say a word, but the look she shot us could freeze the sun. And still, we couldn’t help but smile again.

  The training room #4 was almost empty when we were called in. Only a few folding tables in the back and the lingering smell of coffee left behind by another unit. Velka was the first to walk in; then Caelia, Neyra, and me. We didn’t know who we were about to meet… until we saw her.

  A tall woman, her hair pulled back into a perfect bun, sat in one of the chairs, wearing a light gray coat fastened to the neck. The wrinkles on her face weren’t from age, but from too many years of keeping a stern expression. Her eyes were like frosted glass: emotionless, but impossible to ignore.

  —Close the door —she ordered without raising her voice. Her accent had a foreign lilt I couldn’t quite place—. Sit. We’ve already lost enough days.

  We sat in silence.

  —My name doesn’t matter. But if you need to call me something… use "Marja." I was a field spy in Eiswacht for more than fifteen years. Then I retired to a cabin by the sea. Thought I’d never see another training face again... —she looked at each of us in turn—. And yet, here we are.

  She stood and walked over to a makeshift rack. Hanging there were several garments: high-waisted skirts, blouses with subtle shoulder pads, jackets with double buttons, muted silk scarves, leather gloves, and structured hats.

  —This is Eiswacht. Or at least, the Eiswacht you'll see. A country where time moves forward... but the soul still dresses in memory. Here, fashion doesn’t scream; it whispers. Fabrics don’t hug the body; they shape it by rules. And language… —she lifted a folder— …language is a trap disguised as hospitality.

  She handed us sheets with basic phrases, phonetics included. The words were short, crisp, marked by a cadence that seemed designed to reveal nothing.

  —Eiswacht’s language is built on efficiency. Every word has a double edge. The same phrase can mean "welcome" or "you’re being watched," depending on the context. Speak little, listen more. When you don’t know what to say... nod. But not too fast—that shows submission. And not too slow—that shows arrogance. Understood?

  We nodded. Caelia didn’t even blink. Velka didn’t make a single joke. Neyra looked like she was mentally taking furious notes.

  —You have three to five days to become someone else —she continued—. And I don’t just mean what they do. I’m talking about what they smell, what they eat, how they hold a knife at the table. Carolin, for example —she looked straight at me—, doesn’t drink her tea in one go. She takes three sips. Always three. Susanne —her gaze shifted to Velka— never crosses her legs around superiors. But when she’s alone with you, she does. Left ankle over right. If you change that, someone might notice.

  Velka swallowed.

  —You’re not here to imitate. You’re here to become. If someone in Eiswacht suspects you... they won’t ask questions. They’ll just make you disappear.

  She turned to a suitcase and opened it with surgical precision. Inside were neatly folded clothes: thick wool suits, dresses buttoned to the neck, glossy leather shoes with wide heels, inner corsets to hold posture.

  —These are not your final uniforms, but they’ll help your body adjust —she explained—. You’ll train wearing these so your skin won’t betray how uncomfortable you are. And yes, that includes heels. Those who can’t walk in them... will learn quickly.

  Neyra let out a tiny, strangled sound. Velka glanced at her with silent sympathy.

  —Starting tomorrow, you’ll train in corridors, staircases, mock plazas, dining halls, event rooms… all replicated here. This compound may look like an academy, but it has more traps than a ballroom in Eiswacht. And if you fail, I’ll see everything. Because now, I am your eyes. And if you can fool me... you might just fool anyone.

  She paused. Looked at us one last time.

  —We begin now. Get dressed. The tests don’t wait.

  We stood without a word. The clothes smelled like mothballs and sea salt, and still… as I slipped into that stiff, tailored skirt, I didn’t feel like Lyss anymore. Not even Carolin. I was an idea in the making. And if I didn’t build it carefully, everything would collapse with us inside.

  The skirts felt like traps from the first moment. Straight, heavy, clinging to my thighs... they weren’t made for running, not even for walking comfortably. Marja, our retired instructor, had made it perfectly clear: “I want you to be invisible. Not look like parade soldiers from a cheap show.”

  I was the newest one here. I knew it. I felt it in every clumsy step, in every glance Velka threw at me when I tripped on the same carpet edge for the third time. But I wasn’t the only one uncomfortable. Around me, even they —Velka, Neyra, Caelia— who had more missions under their belts than I had birthdays, looked out of place.

  Sure, I’d done infiltrations before, one to be exact. But never like this. Never like them. Replacing real people, with names, habits, gestures, stories. And even worse: in a foreign country, where one misplaced word or an offbeat greeting could expose us all.

  — How do they walk in these? —Neyra groaned, wobbling on her block heels.

  — With dignity —Marja snapped from her corner without even looking up—. Or at least with the illusion of it.

  Velka had already fallen once. Literally. She tripped on the skirt while turning too fast and ended up flat on her back, laughing as if someone had told her a joke.

  — Still alive! —she declared from the floor while Neyra helped her up, giggling.

  I was trying to follow the painted line on the floor, just like I’d rehearsed in front of the mirror. Back straight. Small steps. Heel, toe. Heel, toe. But my ankles tangled in the fabric, and the heel twisted my balance every time I tried to pivot.

  — Wrong. Again —Marja said in her flat tone.

  I sighed. Started over.

  Off to the side, Caelia was trying to sit with grace. Three tries. On the fourth, she simply gave up and plopped down with a tired exhale.

  — This is ridiculous —she muttered—. In combat, everything is functional. This... this is punishment.

  Velka, sweating from her forehead, smiled at her from the chair.

  — Welcome to the real battlefield.

  Marja clicked her tongue.

  — And you, Susanne —she looked at Velka—, stop waving your hands like you’re negotiating with a pack of morons. In Eiswacht, women don’t gesture like pigeons in heat.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Velka raised her eyebrows.

  — And how the hell am I supposed to explain anything without my hands?

  — With your eyes. With your shoulders. With silence. Women in Eiswacht don’t shout their emotions. They slip them through.

  Neyra laughed... just before tripping over her own hem.

  — Ugh, this is going to kill me!

  — That’s the point —Marja said, writing something down—. If you can handle this, you can handle any fa?ade.

  I pressed my lips together. Thought about Carolin Schulz. About the way she greeted people. How she drank her tea with her left hand or absentmindedly touched her ring finger while listening. Tiny details. But those were the difference between living... or dying in a foreign country.

  — Are we really doing that bad? —I asked quietly.

  Marja closed her notebook. Looked at all of us.

  — Yes. Horrible. But... better in someway.

  It wasn’t a compliment. But it felt like one.

  Velka dropped into a chair, legs stretched out like she’d just run ten kilometers.

  — I think I already love Carolin more than I love my intact feet.

  Caelia massaged her instep, frowning deeper than usual.

  — Elsa Voigt can go to hell. In heels.

  Neyra burst out laughing, and I... I laughed too. Just a little. But for a moment, between the skirts, the sweat, the stumbles and corrections, I felt less alone in all this.

  Because in the end, we were four goddesses, sure… but today we were just four girls, trying to become someone else.

  The evening wind was warmer than I expected. We weren’t in central Seravenn, so the air didn’t smell like iron or factory smoke—it smelled of dry earth, trees, and something that could’ve been peace… if I didn’t know what was coming.

  We had stepped outside for a while, into a small clearing near the academy. It wasn’t exactly freedom, but the guards knew who we were and kept their distance. None of us spoke much. Not at first.

  Velka lay down on the grass, arms behind her head.

  —“If this were a high school drama,” she said, staring at the sky, “this would be the scene where someone confesses they fell for their classmate during heel training.”

  —“This isn’t a drama,” Caelia muttered, sitting on a rock with her knees together and her back straight.

  —“It’s not?” Velka grinned. “Because with that posture, I already see you as the student council president.”

  Caelia sighed. Neyra, sitting beside me, chuckled softly and hugged her knees.

  —“What would you be, Velka?”

  —“The shameless rival of the protagonist,” she answered without pause. “Sexy, dangerous, probably sparks fly from her eyes when she smiles.”

  —“And Lyss,” Neyra added, resting her head on my shoulder, “would be the new girl who knows nothing but ends up saving everyone without realizing it.”

  I laughed quietly, feeling the warmth of her against me.

  —“That sounds way too unrealistic.”

  —“What about you, Neyra?” I asked.

  She tilted her head, smiling softly.

  —“The best friend... who turns out to be the strongest when things get ugly.”

  Velka clicked her tongue.

  —“I like that. And Caelia?”

  —“The one who never smiles,” I said, giggling.

  —“The one whose smile would stop the world,” Velka added. “Mythic. Lethal. Impossible to kiss.”

  —“What?” Caelia slowly turned to face us.

  —“Nothing, president,” Velka replied with an exaggerated bow.

  For a moment, we just listened to the rustling leaves and our own breathing. I felt something in my chest—something warm, like the closeness between us was weaving itself into me.

  We weren’t perfect. We weren’t lifelong friends.

  But in that simple afternoon, in that moment that didn’t hurt… we were something close to a family.

  Later, back at the academy, we headed to the bath.

  It wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean. Steam already clung to the walls as we entered, one after the other. We undressed without much fuss—it wasn’t the first time. Though this time, something felt different: the exhaustion, the shared bruises, the silence that was no longer uncomfortable.

  —“Muscles I didn’t even know I had are hurting,” Velka muttered as she sank into the hot water.

  —“Those aren’t muscles, they’re your sins,” Caelia replied, removing her towel with military precision and stepping in.

  Neyra and I exchanged a look… then followed her.

  The water was a blessing. I felt my body melt, like I could stay there forever. I closed my eyes.

  —“You know what?” Neyra said. “I’m scared of failing. Really scared.”

  —“We all are,” I answered.

  —“But I don’t want anyone to notice,” she whispered, “not the people outside, not even you.”

  Velka moved closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  —“You don’t have to fake it with us.”

  —“Not all the time,” Caelia added, her voice softer than usual.

  I nodded, eyes burning just a little.

  —“If we fall, we fall together. Okay?”

  We went quiet. Nothing else needed to be said.

  That night, we dragged our mattresses into the center of the room. Like scared children—or maybe warriors who knew loneliness killed faster than bullets.

  We slept together, in a circle.

  And for the first time in a long time… I didn’t have any nightmares.

  The next day

  I woke up with the feeling that the mattress had hugged me all night. My lower back ached a bit—the previous day’s training had taken its toll—but my muscles also felt firmer, more alive. I opened my eyes and saw Neyra’s silhouette in the bed beside mine, still curled up under the blanket, her blonde hair messy and one leg dangling as if she’d lost the fight against sleep. Beside her, Velka was already sitting up, stretching like a cat, a satisfied smile on her lips.

  —Good morning, wifey —she said without looking at me, arms raised toward the ceiling—. I hope you didn’t kick me again last night.

  —Again…? —I murmured, still half-asleep.

  —You talk in your sleep. And kick. I consider it part of the marriage contract —she replied, glancing at me with playful amusement.

  I chuckled softly and sat up in bed. Caelia was already up, combing her dark hair with military precision. Even in sleepwear—a plain shirt and cotton pants—she held the same upright posture as always.

  —Did you sleep well? —I asked.

  —Enough —she answered curtly. But her eyes weren’t as cold as usual.

  We got dressed in the training clothes we’d been given the day before: fitted sleeveless shirts, shorts, and sports shoes that looked freshly unpacked. Though not the most elegant attire, we still looked good in it. There was something about us—how the muscles stood out, how each body seemed sculpted by duty—that made even the simplest outfit striking.

  Velka, of course, was the first to turn in front of the mirror, raising an eyebrow.

  —Do you think I’d lose these curves just because of three days of training? —she asked with mock concern, tracing her silhouette with both hands—. Sometimes I forget how blessed I am.

  —You’re not blessed, just consistent —Caelia replied while tying her hair into a high ponytail—. Though I admit, keeping that waistline with that amount of chocolate cake… is a miracle.

  Neyra yawned and finally got up, her hair still messy and her shirt slightly too big.

  —I don’t want to lose my glutes —she said with absolute seriousness—. Took me years to build them.

  Velka applauded her with mock solemnity.

  —Bravo. A woman with priorities.

  I glanced at myself in the mirror, trying not to focus on the scar that crossed my abdomen. It didn’t hurt anymore… but it was there. A reminder of everything that had changed inside me. Of what had awakened.

  We finished getting dressed in silence, each gathering our things with an almost synchronized rhythm. We’d become a little unit without even realizing it.

  Before leaving the dorm, Caelia looked at us with her arms crossed.

  —Today we should focus on maintaining body coordination. Not just gestures. If anyone sees us walk like foreigners, they’ll know instantly.

  —My legs don’t hurt as much anymore —I commented—. But I still feel the weight of fatigue.

  —That’s a sign of progress —Caelia said.

  —And also a sign that I need a gym —Velka added firmly—. I’m not letting this marriage take my curves.

  —Are we going today? —I asked.

  Velka nodded eagerly.

  —Of course! Cardio, weights… and my beloved squats. A wife must stay in shape.

  Neyra laughed as she gently pushed open the door to the training area.

  —Come on, before you start reciting your wedding vows.

  We walked in together. We weren’t perfect. But we were no longer strangers.

  Academy Gym

  The academy gym was spacious, with high ceilings, reinforced walls, and multiple areas designated for physical training, close combat, and weightlifting. The sound of metal hitting the floor greeted us the moment we stepped inside. And with it, the stares.

  Blood of the Throne was already there.

  Thessia, Vaelyn, Maren… they moved with a dangerous ease, as if the very air stepped aside to avoid interrupting them. They were larger than us—not just in muscle, but in presence. If we were elegant blades, they were ceremonial hammers.

  And then we saw her.

  Irhena.

  She stood at the center of the room, a steel bar on her shoulders with plates on either side that defied gravity. Her muscles rippled beneath a sleeveless shirt, chalk dust coating her gloves. She lowered and raised in controlled repetitions, lifting—at a glance—between ninety and one hundred fifty kilograms. It wasn’t just raw strength; it was a spectacle of control, of wild beauty.

  When she saw us, she didn’t stop. She simply smiled—that feline, lethal smile that only curled one side of her lips.

  —Well, well —she said, not raising her voice, yet everyone heard her—. The actresses came to rehearse… or to watch us lift what they never could.

  Velka muttered a quiet "don’t start," but Caelia kept her posture. No twitch, no sign of tension.

  Irhena dropped the bar with a sharp thud and approached us, casually brushing chalk from her hands. She passed Neyra, passed Velka… until she stopped in front of me.

  Her eyes traveled across my face with boldness and landed on my left cheek.

  —Still sore? —she asked, referring to the slap she’d given me days ago—. I’m not apologizing, by the way. I just wanted to make sure you remembered.

  I forced myself not to step back. I could feel Velka holding her breath beside me.

  —I remember —I said, not breaking eye contact.

  Irhena smiled again. Not mockingly this time… but like someone watching a prey that suddenly became interesting.

  —Good. Some things are worth remembering.

  She turned without another word and walked back to her station, where Maren handed her a water bottle and Vaelyn made some teasing comment. Thessia was watching us with that serpentine gaze, her tongue barely brushing her lips like she enjoyed others’ discomfort.

  Velka leaned in, whispering:

  —If she ever touches you again…

  —She won’t —I said. Though I wasn’t entirely sure.

  Caelia, meanwhile, walked toward the dumbbells as if Irhena didn’t exist. But there was something in her back—in the tight line of her shoulders, in the controlled rhythm of her steps—that only we could read.

  Neyra broke the tension with a nervous little laugh.

  —Well, at least they didn’t send us to clean toilets… right?

  Velka burst out laughing and gave me a soft nudge toward the stretching area.

  —Come on, wifey. Today we don’t just sweat… we show we can play rough too.

  The atmosphere in the gym shifted subtly—not with declarations or loud provocations, but with glances. With movement. With how we placed our hands on the bars or stretched just a little farther than necessary.

  It was a challenge… unspoken, but undeniable.

  Irhena picked up another bar, this time with less weight, and began doing clean and presses. Each repetition was precise, fluid. Powerful.

  Caelia, without saying a word, selected a kettlebell—not as heavy, but her posture was pristine, her form textbook perfect. Her silence was louder than any taunt.

  Velka cracked her neck, grabbed a jump rope, and began a complex rhythm of footwork and agility drills. She wasn’t showing off—yet her body moved like a flame dancing on the edge of a fuse. Every spin of the rope snapped against the floor like punctuation.

  —She’s fast —Vaelyn muttered from the corner, folding her arms and eyeing Velka with narrowed eyes.

  —And flexible —added Thessia with a grin that promised danger.

  Neyra wasn’t one to be left behind. She darted to the sprinting section and dashed across the track with graceful speed. Her small frame moved like wind, legs light, breath controlled. When she stopped, her cheeks were flushed, but she stood tall.

  —I don’t have their muscle —she said aloud—, but I do have lungs.

  That drew a smirk from Maren, who adjusted her gloves and raised one hand to conjure a faint, pulsing field of magical pressure around her. It throbbed like a heartbeat, draining the energy of anyone standing too close.

  —I don’t need to run, darling —she said—. I just need to watch you get tired.

  That was when I stepped forward.

  I didn’t choose weights or a treadmill. I moved to the reinforced dummy in the corner—used for combat drills. I summoned a training version of a weapon: no corruption, no edge. Just weight and precision.

  Strike. Step. Parry. Strike.

  My breath aligned with each movement. I wasn’t the fastest or the strongest. But there was purpose in my rhythm. Even Irhena stopped to watch.

  —I see you’ve learned to move with intent —she said, loud enough to carry.

  I didn't answer. Not because I didn’t want to—but because I didn't want her to think she still scared me.

  Velka joined me next, kicking off her shoes and going into her usual acrobatic stretches, mixing martial poses with dance-like grace.

  —They’re watching —she whispered, a playful smirk on her lips—. Let’s not give them everything... yet.

  Caelia moved to the pull-up bar. Her arms flexed, slow and precise, each rep like a meditation. Her body didn’t shake. Her expression didn’t change. Even Irhena raised an eyebrow, just a little.

  —Discipline —she muttered—. Boring, but impressive.

  —Like you have any better —Caelia replied, deadpan.

  That earned a laugh from Irhena. A real one. Low, almost warm, if such a word could be used for her.

  We didn’t win the gym. Nor did we lose.

  We matched them—blow for blow, glance for glance. Not through direct confrontation… but through presence.

  By the time we finished, the air smelled of sweat and challenge. Thessia clapped slowly, and Vaelyn muttered something about “not being too bad after all.”

  Maren, as usual, said nothing. Just stared at us with those tired eyes and a strange smile that never touched her lips.

  And Irhena?

  She gave us one last look, her expression unreadable, then turned back to the barbell.

  —Not bad, little goddesses —she said—. Let’s see how long that shine lasts.

  Then she went back to lifting.

  The end of the workout came like a slow exhale. Our bodies were sore, our muscles aching, and sweat clung to our skin like a second layer. The gym, once buzzing with tension, now pulsed with something else—respect, maybe. Mutual understanding. Or at least a temporary truce.

  Velka lay on the mat, arms spread wide, catching her breath.

  —Someone tell my thighs they're allowed to rest —she groaned.

  Neyra giggled from her place near the water fountain, fanning her flushed face.

  —We survived... mostly.

  Maren was sitting with her back against the wall, legs stretched out, breathing slowly. Vaelyn practiced spins with her segmented spear, silent but focused. Thessia had her head back, grinning as if the whole session had been foreplay for violence.

  But I was watching Caelia.

  She was on the bench, pushing through her final reps. The bar held exactly one hundred kilos—nothing extraordinary for a magical girl, but her arms were trembling now. She had perfect form, but even steel has limits.

  I took a step forward, instinctively ready to help.

  Before I could move another inch… Irhena was already there.

  Silent, confident, she moved behind the bench with the casual grace of someone who had done this a thousand times. Her hands hovered beneath the bar—not touching, but close enough.

  Caelia gave one last push, the bar clinking into the rack with a sharp metallic sigh.

  Their eyes met.

  Caelia sat up, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. Her breath was short, but her voice steady.

  —Thank you.

  Irhena tilted her head slightly, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

  —Of course, sweetheart. Can’t let you break that lovely frame of yours.

  Caelia blinked. Her mouth opened just a little, then shut again. She didn't respond—just nodded and stood.

  Irhena didn’t push further. She stepped back with the same calm presence, wiping her hands with a towel before turning away.

  —Shower time, goddesses —Velka called, stretching like a cat—. I smell like victory… and death.

  We gathered our things, still buzzing from the session, and headed toward the locker rooms. Even if our training in disguise was far from over… in that moment, we had proven something to ourselves.

  That we belonged here, too.

  That we could stand among wolves—and not look away.

  Steam filled the showers like a soft mist, wrapping us in a strange kind of calm. After the gym session, every muscle ached with a satisfying intensity. I leaned against the tiled wall, letting the hot water run down my neck, back, and legs.

  — I didn’t even know I had this many muscles until they started hurting —I muttered.

  Velka, a few meters away, chuckled.

  — See? And then they mock me when I complain about keeping these curves.

  — I didn’t think training included lifting a building —Neyra added, sitting on a bench, massaging her shoulders.

  Caelia stood silently, washing with slow, precise motions. Her face was softer than usual. For a moment, she seemed far away.

  Irhena hadn’t joined us. Somehow, that made the moment feel more intimate.

  We laughed, shared quiet complaints. We helped each other braid our hair, swapped the products we had managed to sneak into our kits. For a few minutes, we weren’t goddesses or soldiers or impostors. Just girls under hot water, letting the exhaustion speak for us.

  Later, dry and dressed in our training uniforms, we returned to the practice room. The spy was already there with her notebook, one eyebrow raised.

  — I thought you had melted —she said dryly.

  Velka winked.

  — Almost did, but we survived… for now.

  The rest of the day was a string of corrections, repetitions, and frustration. We practiced gestures, colloquial phrases, formal greetings. Caelia mastered the pronunciation but struggled with softer emotions. Neyra remembered all the details but laughed at the wrong times. Velka had the perfect accent but improvised phrases no serious researcher would ever say.

  Me... I did what I could. Every time I faked a kiss on Velka’s cheek or called her love, a pang of guilt hit me. It wasn’t real. But it looked like it was. And maybe that was the real problem.

  Night fell like a velvet curtain, and the clocks struck eight.

  We were taking a short break when I let out the biggest sigh of the day... and spoke:

  — Girls… I need to ask you something.

  All three turned toward me.

  — What’s up? —Neyra asked, still sitting on the floor with a juice box in hand.

  I swallowed hard.

  — Tonight… I need to go out. Not for long. But I have to. I’m going to see someone.

  Caelia raised an eyebrow, already suspicious.

  — Someone?

  Velka narrowed her eyes, her tone playful… but gentler than usual.

  — Silas?

  I nodded.

  — I promised him. It’ll only be an hour or two. I just… I need to see him. Explain things. Face him.

  Silence followed. Then Velka stepped closer, her smile soft and sincere this time.

  — Then we’ll cover for you. Whatever you need to say… say it right. But come back in one piece, okay?

  — I will —I replied.

  — What if someone asks for you? —Neyra added.

  — We’ll say she was called for a medical check. After all, she just got back from a mission —Caelia said calmly—. But don’t be long. And watch your words.

  I looked at them, deeply grateful.

  — Thank you. Truly… thank you.

  Velka nudged my shoulder lightly.

  — Go get pretty, love. Tonight, you’re not Carolin. You’re Lyss.

  And for the first time all day… I smiled without fear.

  The room was silent. The girls had stayed in the training hall to cover for me in case anyone asked, while I rummaged through the small metal locker by my bed. I had no dresses, no soft blouses, no perfume. Just the standard uniform.

  I sighed. It didn’t matter.

  I grabbed the least wrinkled set and ran my hands over it, using a small heat spell to smooth out the fabric. I sat in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, tied my hair into a loose braid, and applied a touch of blush Velka had hidden in her things. I dabbed a balm on my lips. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  I didn’t want to look like a Goddess. I wanted to look like me.

  Once ready, I looked at my reflection and whispered to myself:

  — I'm just Lyss. And I'm going to see him.

  I snuck through the dimly lit hallways, dodging patrols and sensors. It wasn’t the first time someone broke the rules, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t mischief. It was necessity.

  I reached the outer wall of the academy. The security fence shimmered with magical detection fields, but I had studied its pulse. Every exact minute, the field dropped for five seconds to allow authorized passage.

  I took off my shoes, placed one hand on the fence, and whispered a levitation spell. My feet lifted weightlessly, hovering just above the electric field. For a second, the world seemed to hold its breath.

  — Don’t fail me now — I whispered.

  And I jumped.

  I landed on the other side with a soft thud, rolling over the damp grass. My uniform picked up a few stains, but I no longer cared. I stood, heart pounding as if I had just returned from the battlefield… or like I was about to enter a new one.

  The night in Seravenn was clear, dotted with stars. I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and walked down the side street without looking back.

  Because up ahead… he was waiting for me.