We’ve been running for over an hour—on our hundredth or thousandth lap, I can’t tell anymore. As we approach Maldos, who lounges against the gate and picks his nails with a dagger, Cassiun finally breaks.
“Why… are we still… running?” he pants. “We’re perfectly sober.”
Without looking up, Maldos answers, “Don’t converse with me. Until Rollech says otherwise, keep trudging.”
Cassiun throws his head back and groans loudly, his frustration echoing across the courtyard.
Niasao chuckles. “What are you complaining about, Cassiun? This is just a light jog.”
“Don’t… talk to me right now!” Cassiun snaps.
I glance at him and smirk. “Cassiun, are you crying?”
His only response is to speed off, leaving us in the dust.
Beside me, Inrissa struggles to keep pace, her breaths ragged. She glances at me and says between gasps, “I’m… honestly thankful he sent us to run. I never want to feel intoxicated again.”
Her gaze lingers on me longer than it should. I offer a reassuring smile. Does she remember what she did?
Another grueling hour passes before Maldos finally rises from his perch. He sheathes his dagger and waves us to a halt.
“I hope you’ve all learned your lesson,” he says, his voice cold. “Next time, Rollech won’t be so lenient with his punishment. Now, head to the training square and wait for him there.”
<<
Everyone sits in the square, grouped by the schools we came from. Some lean against barrels, weapon racks, or the stone railings enclosing the space. The Nutarth group sits near me, except for Dharron, who perches on a crate, examining a saber. I watch him from my spot by the barrels.
Casthus yawns, sprawled on the ground. “This wait is tiring.”
Cassiun and Andreus lean back against the stone railing. Cassiun, eyes closed, mutters, “Running around this castle for two hours is tiring.”
Casthus sniffles. “Fair point.”
Annihiri fidgets with her septum piercing, her bright blue eyes distant. Suddenly, she speaks. “Did you all hear about the village destroyed in the west?”
We exchange glances. Niasao voices what we’re all thinking. “Where did you hear that?”
“Some soldiers near the storeroom were talking about it.”
Skarius, sitting cross-legged beside Casthus, shakes his head. “It’s insane that people still choose to live near the Maledicta.”
Ozemon moves closer from the railing where he’d been sitting. “Nortamo probably assured them they’d be safe. Now we wait to see how people react after an entire village was destroyed under his protection.”
Andreus straightens, his voice hopeful. “Let’s just pray no other towns or villages get destroyed.”
I sit up, my tone firm. “The other towns are east and south of Trego. Nothing’s getting past that fort or its garrison.”
“Doesn’t hurt to wish them well,” Andreus replies with a shrug.
Annihiri stops fiddling with her piercing and chimes in again. “I also heard we’re training tomorrow.”
Cassiun chuckles. “What don’t you hear, nosy girl?”
“I’m not nosy,” Annihiri retorts, “just highly observant.”
Casthus props his head in his hands and smirks at Cassiun. “You’ve got to stop being so mean to girls. At this rate, you’ll never lose your purity.”
Cassiun scowls. “How about you let me fuck you instead since you’re so concerned about my purity?”
Our corner erupts in laughter. Inrissa, sitting beside me, bolts upright in mock outrage. “How vulgar!”
Before the laughter dies down, the echo of Rollech’s boots fills the hallways. The sound cuts through the air, snapping us to attention. We scramble to our feet, hastily forming ranks as the noise grows louder, a heavy tension settling over the square.
Rollech emerges, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched like a cinderblock. His silence is suffocating as his eyes sweep over us, studying each face. Finally, he speaks.
“That display in the food hall was an insult—to me, to our legion, and most importantly, to our Duke.” His jaw tightens as he continues. “I could give each of you ten lashes for what happened, but today, I’m feeling merciful. Let me make this clear: never let that happen again. Understood?”
“Yes, dux,” we respond in unison.
My heart pounds like a drumline. I didn’t expect such a severe punishment for something as simple as drinking. Foolish of me to think this place would be anything like the academy—this is a different world entirely.
“Go to your rooms and stay there until tomorrow. Be lined up here and ready for training at first light. Dismissed.”
We file out silently, the weight of Rollech’s words sinking in. As we make our way from the square to our quarters, no one dares to speak. The room we enter is spacious enough to house both Sersia and Nutarth students. Yaeserra, however, has their own separate quarters.
“What a day,” Damzire sighs, shutting the door behind him.
The beds are arranged along both sides of the room. Niasao collapses onto hers beneath a window, groaning. “I wonder what he’s got planned for us tomorrow.”
Cassiun rummages through his belongings, chuckling. “Nothing good, I’ll bet. That gorngaar looked ready to rip our heads off.”
I drop onto my bed by another window, noticing Inrissa has chosen a spot far from mine. Annihiri sits across from me, tying her hair into a neat bun. Her bright blue eyes and pinkish complexion catch my attention, and I find myself staring until Shaza’s sharp words break the moment.
“This is Zageth’s fault. We never should’ve followed him into the hall.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You didn’t have to come, Shaza. Guess the devil made you do it.” I glance at Annihiri and whisper with a grin, “Get a load of that one.”
Annihiri chuckles softly, finishing her hair. As I settle into my bed, I notice Inrissa watching me from across the room with a mix of worry and disdain. I smirk, blow her a kiss, and pull the sheets over me. Sleep comes quickly.
I wake earlier than expected. The room is bathed in faint orange light, the sky outside still cloaked in darkness. “The peek of the dark,” I think, rising quietly. My stomach growls, interrupting my thoughts. I need food.
I sneak toward the food hall, but it’s locked. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
The HQ is eerily silent, save for distant murmurs from civilians beyond the walls. There’s a strange peace in the stillness, and I’m tempted to explore despite the risk. Logic battles curiosity, but curiosity wins. The library in the glass dome seems like the perfect destination.
Reaching it without trouble, I find the door unlocked. The library is vast but oddly sparse—tables and chairs scattered across the center, bookshelves lining the circumference of the dome. It’s less grand than I imagined, but the view takes my breath away.
The God’s Eye nebula stretches across the sky, its purple hues shimmering above the fortress walls. I approach the glass, marveling at the sight. Am I dreaming? How can something so otherworldly exist?
Catching my reflection in the glass, I study my face—black, slicked-back hair, bright gold eyes, a face too perfect to be real. My fingers trace my jawline, and I smile until my gaze lands on the mark beneath my eye. A flaw on an otherwise flawless face.
Shaking off the thought, I refocus. One section of shelves catches my attention—books uniformly black with red designs. I run my fingers over the spines, reading the titles aloud: He Who Goes Before, Force of the Champion, Decay of the Great, The Key of Solomon, Scourge of Pride—
Wait. The Key of Solomon?
I double back, pulling the book free and flipping to a random page.
“First, upon the night of the waning light of the world, thou shalt prepare a circle thrice drawn with the blade of iron, within a place where none but thou shalt tread. The circumference shall be sealed with the dust of charnel grounds and the blood of a blackened goat, sacrificed at the hour when man is fast asleep.”
A summoning ritual?
Excited, I flip to the first chapter. The words leap off the page, their title written in vivid red: The Karm. To Call Forth Shadows from the Abyss.
An illustration of a knight appears beneath the text—armored, with pale grey skin and a skull for a head.
My heart races. I can’t help but grin. This is going to be interesting.
I sit at one of the tables and open the book from the beginning. The first few pages are dull, resembling a typical storybook introduction—mundane details about origins and history. But as I read further, the content shifts. It delves into evocation, describing the process of summoning harmless spirits.
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I feel a flicker of excitement. Trying my hand at such a ritual would be fascinating, but the required resources are far beyond my reach.
As I read, a chill crawls up my spine. Then, as if a cold hand grazes my neck, the hairs stand on end. I jerk upright, nearly knocking over the table, and spin around to find…nothing.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, heart racing.
My gaze shifts to the grimoire. I slam it shut, laughing nervously. How ridiculous to spook myself like this at the peak of the dark. But the sensation of that cold touch—so vivid, so real—I know I didn’t imagine it.
Am I losing my mind?
Shaking off the unease, I tuck the book under my arm. I fix the chair, straighten the table, and head toward the exit.
“Zageth,” a voice whispers into my right ear.
I drop to the floor, hand clamped over my mouth to stifle a scream. My body trembles with pure terror. “What the…FUCK!” I mutter.
“Calm yourself, Zageth. It is Plaara,” the voice replies.
“What the…how are you talking to me right now?” My voice shakes, the fear still gripping me. The sound I hear is surreal—a blend of Plaara’s voice and something spectral, reverberating unnaturally with every word.
“It seems you have not been given your poltergeist,” she explains calmly.
“A what?!”
“It is a spirit Legionnaires use to communicate over long distances. I apologize for not informing you earlier.”
I let out a shaky laugh, nerves barely contained. “Would’ve been helpful to know. I almost had a heart attack!”
“My apologies,” she says, unfazed. “How are you finding your time here so far?”
“Everything’s great,” I lie, the words automatic. Then, unbidden, the truth slips out. “But…Plaara, I feel lost. When am I going to do something meaningful? Something that truly serves your cause?”
“There is nothing to do yet. Simply fulfill your duties as required. When the time comes, I will summon you.” Her voice takes on a sharper edge. “And please, for the Emperor’s sake, compose yourself when I address you.”
I chuckle weakly. “I’ll try.”
“Good. Stay safe, Zageth. Goodbye.”
The spectral connection vanishes, leaving me in eerie silence.
I glance at the grimoire in my hand. On a whim, I flip it open again. A single title leaps out at me: Poltergeist.
I exhale sharply. “A shame I didn’t see this sooner.”
Closing the book, I sneak back to the barracks and stow it carefully in my bag. Pulling the covers over myself, I close my eyes. The day’s tension ebbs away, and soon, I’m drifting off into restless sleep.
<<
Shouts drag me from sleep. My body jolts upright, and I rub the grogginess from my eyes. Maldos storms through the room, pulling each of us from our beds and shoving us toward the door.
“Get up! Head to the square!” he bellows.
Still half-asleep, we shuffle like zombies toward the training square. My head pounds—a splitting headache from the abrupt wake-up. “Move fast-like!” Maldos snaps.
Can this bastard shut up for once? I rub my temple, trying to suppress the growing ache.
Beside me, Cassiun stretches with an exaggerated yawn. “I feel refreshed.”
I glare at him. Of course, you do.
Maldos barks at us to grab wooden machaeras and line up in rank. The training blades feel heavier than expected, their weight pressing down on my arms as we stand like statues. Maldos, meanwhile, perches on a barrel, lazily flipping through a small book with his own machaera resting beside him.
The idle moment pulls me back to last night. Was it real? Of course, it was real. A sigh escapes me. Lately, everything feels surreal, as if I’m drifting through someone else’s life. Plaara, give me something meaningful to do. Anything.
“Let us begin,” Maldos announces abruptly, snapping his book shut.
We straighten, holding the machaeras properly instead of leaning on them like walking sticks. Maldos twirls his weapon effortlessly. “Warm up those bones,” he says, taking a battle stance. “Watch my movements and follow when I say. Understood?”
“Yes, melior,” we echo in unison.
Maldos starts slow. Deep lunges, deliberate shoulder rotations, controlled slashes, and precise jabs. He moves with the kind of fluidity that comes from years of practice.
This bastard woke us up for yoga? Rage bubbles inside me.
“Do as I do,” he commands.
We mimic his movements. The slow lunges and controlled strikes leave us drenched in sweat within minutes. My muscles, at least, feel awake now, but the indignity of it all gnaws at me.
“Now,” Maldos says, straightening, “on to the main drill.”
He shifts into a flurry of fast, sharp movements. Each strike flows into the next, an unrelenting combination of offense and defense. After demonstrating for twenty minutes—without breaking a sweat—he gestures for us to begin.
“Do as I do.”
The tempo is brutal. My arms burn within two minutes, the machaera now feeling like a lead weight. Some of the others falter, slowing their pace. Maldos pounces on them, slapping their thighs hard with his weapon. I grit my teeth and keep going.
Finally, after an agonizing twenty-one minutes, Maldos calls a stop. My hands loosen involuntarily, and the machaera slips from my grasp, clattering to the ground.
Maldos’ head snaps toward me.
I scramble to retrieve the weapon, but my arms are too sluggish. He’s on me in an instant. Four sharp blows—two on my thigh, two across my face.
The gasps from the Nutarth students cut through the air. They’ve never seen me disciplined like this before.
I hold my face, rage simmering just beneath the surface. My chest tightens, my body trembling as I suppress the violent urge building within me.
Maldos and I lock eyes. We’re nearly the same height, but I’m slightly taller—a detail that doesn’t escape me. His expression hardens, and I see a flicker of tension in his stance.
I could take him.
The thought is intoxicating, but I force it down. What would Plaara think?
I straighten, gripping the machaera tightly and standing at attention.
The tension in Maldos seems to dissipate, like smoke curling into the air. He steps closer, jabbing a finger in my face. “Do not ever drop your weapon again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, melior,” I reply, my voice steady despite the fire in my chest.
He lingers for a moment, then turns away. “Let us ease your muscles now,” he says to the group. “I would not have you suffer the ill of cramping.”
We follow his lead as he slows the tempo, guiding us through controlled breathing and smooth, flowing movements with the machaeras. My body obeys, but my mind seethes.
All I can think about is how satisfying it would be to ram a saber through his chest.
<<
We are made to pack tools required to make tents and are given water and a snack. They call the snack “eclerin.” It's not the best tasting, but they said it was to provide us with the necessary nutrients for the day and I am already beginning to feel it take effect.
“In line!” Maldos shouts. We move with great difficulty carrying this weight but thank goodness for the training we received before coming here, it makes the weight bearable. Can’t say the same for the others, Annihiri for one looks like she is going to snap under the weight, that goes for some of the students from, Sersia, and Yaeserra. I can’t help but smile when Shaza urges one of them to stand upright with a shove to the frustration of Damzire.
Maldos meets us here in the courtyard of our Midnight HQ accompanied by four other legionnaires, all dressed in full armor. “Hope you’re ready to trek mites,” he says laughing at his own joke. “Whoever has the pleasure of being named Valmir step forward. A demon with deep blue skin pushes through our ranks and emerges to the front. I flex my jaw, of course, they're gonna give this bastard a leadership role. I catch Cassiun and Andrius taking a peek at me as if they already expected to see me angry at the promotion of the guy who beat me at the institute. I’m getting too predictable. I exhale and raise my head taking on a more neutral expression.
Valmir stands at attention. Maldos looks him up and down before looking back at his fellow legionnaires and chuckling. “Valmir Of Yaeserra, you have been selected as a centurion of these milites,” Maldos says taking a medallion from his pocket. “Take this medallion, and lead your allies to victory through their trials.”
Valmir bowed his head, “Thank you, melior.” He stays in that bowing position causing Maldos to look back and laugh with his legionnaire friends.
“I’m not your servant, boy, put it around your own damn neck” Maldos drops the Medallion in his hand. One of the other legionnaires steps forward with a rolled piece of parchment in her hand.
“Take this, you’re gonna need it,” she says, dropping the parchment in his grasp.
Valmir dawns his medallion and opens the map, “If you don’t mind me asking meliors, where are we going to be going on this map?”
“You’re heading to the Imperial Grove,” Maldos states, “ And I want you there in an hour, so you best get moving.”
Valmir salutes, before turning to us. It takes everything I have not to scowl. Valmir looks at his map once again, and for a good while before he commands us to move out.
<
We marched from Stronghold Nix to the edge of the city, and the weight of the pack on my back was already taking its toll. The straps dug into my shoulders, and my breath came heavier with each step. Annihiri, on the other hand, rolled her shoulders and neck to ease the strain, her face calm and composed. That’s what I admire about her—she doesn’t complain.
Valmir stopped us at the corridor leading into the city. We stood in a three-rank formation, allowing the civilian traffic to pass without interference. The people moved around us with wary glances, their curiosity apparent but unspoken. None dared approach. It felt strange, their silence almost visible, as though we were something to fear.
I shifted my weight, the strain on my shoulders growing heavier with every second of stillness. My stomach let out a loud, resonant growl. I pressed a hand to it, frowning.
“What the fuck?” I whispered.
Inrissa glanced at me, concern etched on her face. “Zageth, are you alright?”
I turned to her, wide-eyed. “What do you mean? Can’t you feel that?”
Before she could answer, the source of the rumbling emerged from the clouds. It was like watching a Titan descend to the world—a massive, otherworldly creature breaking through the heavens, blotting out the light.
My breath caught as its call tore through the air, a sound so immense and ancient it seemed to resonate in my bones. The creature’s cry was thunderous, echoing endlessly, and it descended with an almost deliberate grace.
Panic surged in me. My legs moved on their own, my instincts screaming to run. I had barely taken a step when Inrissa grabbed my arm.
“Zageth! What are you doing?” she asked, bewildered.
“ARE YOU INSANE? RUN! THAT THING IS COMING RIGHT FOR US!”
Cassiun and Dharron were on me in an instant, grabbing my arms to hold me back.
“Zageth,” Dharron said, his tone calm, “it’s just a Leviathan. There’s nothing to fear.”
Nothing to fear? Are they insane? That’s a monster straight out of Godzilla!
The Leviathan suddenly changed course, leveling out and heading away from the capital. As it moved, I noticed something peculiar: its body wasn’t entirely flesh. Metal gleamed along its vast frame, and its many tentacles moved in rhythmic, pushing motions, propelling it through the air like a celestial octopus.
I had read about Leviathans in books, but the illustrations had done no justice to the sheer magnitude of seeing one in the flesh. In its presence, all the knowledge I thought I had evaporated. I was left standing there, utterly humiliated by my reaction.
Cassiun’s laughter broke the silence. He doubled over, tears streaming down his face as he gasped for air. “You should’ve seen your face, Zageth! AHAHAHA!”
The others joined in, their laughter echoing around me like an unbearable chorus.
Inrissa caught my expression and tried to stifle her chuckles. She moved closer, clutching my arm lightly. “Zageth, was that your first time seeing a Leviathan?”
I cleared my throat, desperate to salvage a shred of dignity. “I’ve seen them in books. But yes, this was my first time seeing one... up close.”
“Aww,” she cooed, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “You must forgive them. They’ve never seen you so utterly terrified before.”
Cassiun let out another uncontrollable cackle, and my jaw twitched. I clenched my fists, trying to steady the rising anger in my chest.
“Enough,” Valmir’s voice cut through the laughter, though it did little to quiet the group.
“I believe the joke has passed,” I said sharply.
“Oh, don’t be such a bore, Zageth,” Niasao chimed in, smirking. “It was funny.”
My vision narrowed. Anger boiled under my skin, my jaw clenching hard enough to ache.
“Valmir has asked for silence,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Do as he commands and keep your mouth shut. We have a destination to reach within the hour.”
The group finally fell quiet, though the residual smirks on their faces burned at me. I adjusted the weight of my pack, my resolve hardening.
Never let that happen again. Never.