She’d thought the hardest part would be the training, the fighting, surviving the Trial that killed seventeen of her Brothers.

  She’d been wrong.

  The hardest part was standing here, deaf and grounded, watching Varian prepare for his Hunt.

  She’d spent the past seventy-two hours going over strategy with him, discussing Hexan tactics, reviewing everything in the Book of Beasts. It still didn’t feel like enough.

  Alessia stood in the main hall watching Varian check his pack one final time. Masters Tormund and Vickers as well as Scribe Willem stood nearby, but Alessia spoke first.

  “Do you have the salt?”

  Varian looked up from his pack. “Salt?”

  “For the Hexan,” Alessia said, pulling a small pouch from her belt. “Remember what we discussed? Iron and salt disrupt their charm. Keep this on you.” She pressed it into his hand. “If she gets close, throw it in her face. Might buy you the second you need.”

  Varian nodded. “Thank you, Sister.”

  She nodded in return.

  Master Tormund gestured to the assembled children. They’d been waiting quietly, watching the preparations.

  “Wise of you, Sister,” Scribe Willem said.

  “Until we meet again, Brother,” Master Tormund said, extending a hand.

  “Until we meet again, Master,” Varian replied as he took it.

  “I was going to announce this yesterday,” Master Vickers said, “but today feels more fitting. Word from Brother Konrad has arrived. His first Hunt is complete. He has slain a cave troll in Kaston, at the holy site of Venture’s End.”

  The children spoke amongst each other in hushed whispers.

  “Told you it was a troll,” one of them said, but Alessia couldn’t pinpoint who.

  That should have been my Hunt. This should be my Hunt.

  The Presence stirred behind her thoughts, eager. She forced the frustration down before it could take root. I see you.

  Master Tormund raised his hand. “Honor your Brother and wish him well during his Hunt.”

  The children formed a line and one-by-one they said their goodbyes. They each returned to their individual drills afterwards.

  Scribe Willem gave Brother Varian some parting advice. “Remember, the Presence is a tool, not a weapon. Call upon it only when necessary, and shackle it afterward. Never indulge its greed.”

  “Of course, Scribe Willem,” Varian said.

  “And remember,” Master Tormund chimed in. “If something feels wrong during the Hunt, don’t ignore it. The Presence is alerting you to something you haven’t yet seen.”

  Varian nodded. “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be, Brother,” Master Vickers said. “You are beyond prepared.”

  Varian turned his attention to Alessia but before he could speak she embraced him.

  “I would wish you good luck, Brother,” she said, “but luck runs out. So I’ll wish you intelligence instead.”

  His arms wrapped around her and leaned back so she could see his lips. “You act like I’ll never see you again.” He stepped back after a moment, cleared his throat and gave her a theatrical bow. “I still have to live long enough to see what our Silver Sister writes for herself in the Book of Names.”

  “Only if you stop telegraphing your strikes. Otherwise, the Book will read: ‘Brother Varian: Predictable to the end.’”

  Varian laughed until tears formed. Master Vickers shook her head and smiled. Even Master Tormund couldn’t help but smirk. Scribe Willem remained stoic, though something in his clouded eyes suggested approval.

  With a smile still on his face he shouldered his pack. “Thank you, all of you,” he said as he turned towards the door.

  Alessia watched as he left the main doors.

  Konrad was in Kaston. Varian was heading to Ithrix. And she was here, grounded, broken, left behind.

  The last of her Brothers had gone to Hunt without her.

  Master Tormund put his hand onto Alessia’s shoulder to get her attention. “Come with me, we need to talk.”

  She glanced back to the door Varian had left through and sighed. She nodded toward Master Tormund and began to follow him.

  Master Vickers and Scribe Willem stayed and continued instructing the children.

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  They made their way down the office wing. It struck Alessia that after all these years, she had never been inside Master Tormund’s office.

  Master Tormund gestured for her to sit. She took the chair across from his desk as he settled into his own. The office was dark apart from a small candle on the table between them. The cabinet behind him was filled with scrolls and smaller leatherbound notebooks, notes on his pupils no doubt. The office smelled of old parchment.

  “You’ve broken every barrier,” he said. “Succeeded where all other women would have failed. Where Phantom Ophelia failed.”

  “It hasn’t been easy, Master.”

  “Nothing worth doing ever is.” He paused studying her for a long moment. “The northern realms, Ascal and Esca are at war, Sister. Are you ready to Hunt?”

  She gripped the chair’s armrest. This had to be real.

  She steadied herself. “I’m ready, Master Tormund.”

  “Good,” he said. “War means two things: corpse ghouls and corpse feeders.” He retrieved a piece of parchment from his desk drawer, the seal had already been broken. “But there’s a condition.”

  Of course there is. There always is.

  He handed her the note. It read:

  The war is escalating in the north. The amount of corpse ghouls present is beyond our initial estimations. I believe this to be a direct result of the body count on both sides. There have also been rumors that King Jorgek is planning to join the conflict. If that were to happen Queen Herja will follow, bringing all four of the northern provinces into the war.

  —Hunter Julian.

  Alessia looked up from the note. “I assume the condition is I’ll be in training. Under another Hunter.” She rubbed her face.

  “You’re going out in the field, there is no more training.”

  “I’m going out in the field to be babysat.”

  Master Tormund eyed her. “Easy now, Sister. I know this is uncommon, but the north needs help and it sounds like things are only going to get worse.” He stood from his chair and leaned across the desk. “Including Brother Varian, I have just nineteen Hunters in the field. Total. For all of Trinovia.”

  One Hunter for each of the provinces in Trinovia. It's that bad.

  “Hunter Julian has been in the field for about twenty-seven years, there’s plenty he can teach you.”

  “So I am to be trained?” she asked, leaning forward in her chair.

  “Training is over,” Master Tormund said. “It’s life or death now. The north needs help, thanks to the politics of men dragging all four provinces toward war.” He held her gaze. “Stop being so pessimistic, Sister. You’ve achieved the impossible. Now prove you can Hunt.”

  “I know how to handle corpse ghouls and corpse feeders.”

  Master Tormund went silent as he pointed to the huge scar running from the side of his head. He opened his cloak, it went even further down his side, and then he lifted a pant leg that revealed it ended at his knee. “How about an Imperial Griffon?” Master Tormund walked around the desk, showing the damage in devastating detail. “I wouldn’t be here today, if not for Hunter Julian.”

  She sat there in silence as she looked at what should have been a death blow.

  “We always wondered what happened,” she said quietly, “but none of us had the courage to ask.”

  “I owe Hunter Julian my life,” he said, as he began to cover the scar. “I don’t doubt your capabilities, Sister. If I could afford the time investment, I would send each new Hunter out with him for some time.”

  “When do I leave, Master Tormund?”

  “Two days,” he said. “We need a few things from Hawk’s Rest first.”

  Alessia stood from the chair and extended her arm. Master Tormund shook it.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “You’ve earned it, Sister,” he said. “Phantom Ophelia would be honored to know that you’re carrying her legacy.”

  She nodded and glanced at Silver Sister attached to her hip and then to the hawk medallion.

  For Ophelia and Damian.

  Alessia made her way back into the main hall, pride in each step. She had her Hunt, and a mentor who was, in his own right, a hero. Without Hunter Julian, Last Pass wouldn’t have Master Tormund. There was no telling how many Brothers have been saved by Tormund’s tutelage.

  Alessia watched as Alana and Yara studied the other’s form when holding the practice sword. They were talking amongst themselves but she couldn’t read their lips from the distance or angle.

  The Sisters turned towards Alessia once they noticed her approaching.

  “Silver Sister,” Yara said.

  Alana bowed. “Sister Alessia.”

  “Do you need help, Sisters?” Alessia asked. “The two of you—”

  “Please, Sister Alessia,” Alana said. “The Brothers keep disarming us during sparring sessions. Something is wrong with our grips.”

  “Show me your forms,” Alessia said. Both Sisters raised their practice swords into guard position.

  Alessia stepped closer, studying their hands. Alana’s grip was too tight, knuckles white with tension. Yara’s was too loose, fingers barely wrapped around the hilt.

  “Alana, you’re strangling it. The sword needs to move with you, not fight you.” She turned to Yara. “And you’re holding it like it might bite. Firm, but not rigid. Feel the balance.”

  Alessia watched both Sisters make the adjustments.

  “Good,” she said to them. “Now watch.”

  Alessia drew Silver Sister, holding it at guard. “See? Fingers wrapped, but wrist loose. When someone strikes—” She shifted her weight, letting the blade flow with the movement. “The sword moves, I move. We’re not fighting each other, we’re unified. I’m as much a part of it as it is of me.”

  The two Sisters looked to one another and took up their guards. Yara lunged first, her grip was tighter now. Alana deflected it and countered, the wooden blade connected to Yara’s thigh.

  “Good,” Alessia said. “Both of you. Keep practicing and muscle memory will take over. The boys will have a harder time disarming you now.”

  “Thank you, Sister,” the two of them said in perfect unison.

  “You’re very welcome Sisters.”

  “Sister Alessia,” Alana said. “I want to be just like you.”

  Alessia saw from the corner of her eye that Master Vickers was smiling. Was this what granted someone the title of Master?

  Alessia felt the tears behind her eyes, but she choked them back. “It’s not an easy path, Sister,” she said quietly. “But I will say this, you can do anything you dedicate yourself to.”