Sera's Pov
The morning air carried a sharp bite, chilling against my skin as I stepped onto the training grounds. The sky was still a shade of deep blue, the sun barely beginning to rise.
The grounds were already filled with trainees, their postures stiff with tension. A week had passed since the brutal competition, and the scars—both seen and unseen—still lingered. Most had not come out of that unscathed.
Some trainees adjusted, while others stood still, shoulders squared, jaws tight. Those who had barely scraped through the competition looked different now—hardened, desperate.
A familiar figure leaned casually against a post, arms crossed, exuding an ease that didn't match the charged atmosphere. Green eyes met mine, gleaming with amusement.
Kael.
He'd told me last night that the instructors had been delaying the strategy meeting until I recovered. If that was true, then today would mark something far worse than training.
A heavy silence fell as the instructor stepped forward, gaze sweeping over the gathered group. His presence alone demanded attention. Scars lined his face, each a testament to experience. When he spoke, his voice was rough, like it had been carved from stone.
"You've had a week to recover. Some of you healed. Some of you still bleed." He let the words sink in, watching reactions closely.
"None of you should have forgotten the pain of that competition. The purpose of that trial wasn't just to see who could fight—it was to see who could survive. And now, we move forward."
The weight in his tone pressed down on us, but no one dared speak.
"I reviewed all your performances," he continued, eyes narrowing slightly. "Some of you made quite an impression."
His gaze locked onto me.
"You endured a wound that should have crippled you. Fought past it. Won." A pause. "But survival isn't always victory. You got lucky."
A few smirks flickered among the crowd. I forced my expression to remain neutral.
The instructor shifted, now setting his sights elsewhere.
"Then there's Kael."
Tension rippled through the group.
"You put on quite a show. Ruthless. Efficient. Maybe too much." His voice dipped lower. "I wonder if you would have stopped if we hadn't intervened."
Silence.
Kael barely lifted a shoulder. "A win is a win."
A muscle in the instructor's jaw twitched, but he didn't press further. Instead, he turned sharply and motioned toward the large table set up in the center of the grounds. A map was spread across it, weighed down by daggers stabbed into each corner.
"The raid," he announced.
The gathered trainees edged closer, tension coiling thick in the air.
"This isn't a game. We're not sparring. We're not competing for positions. We are going in, to kill."
Breath hitched in more than a few throats, but no one backed away.
"The target is a rogue encampment," he continued, dragging a pen over the map to mark the location. "They're part of the faction looking to start a war but we'll clip them, starting now."
The words settled heavily over the group.
"Our objective is complete extermination."
Some reactions were immediate. A few trainees stiffened. Others shifted, barely concealing their anticipation.
"You will split into two groups." The tip of the pen traced over the terrain. "The ones who lost in the competition will infiltrate the camp, the others will wait in the trees surrounding the site—no one escapes. However, two of them must remain alive."
My fingers curled into fists.
A chill ran down my spine.
"Prisoners," he clarified. "We need information."
Something in his voice shifted, dropping lower.
"That means interrogation."
No one needed further explanation.
The weight of his words crushed the last remnants of hesitation in the air.
"This mission is not optional," he continued, scanning our faces. "If you hesitate, you die. If you are weak, you die." His gaze bore into each of us, as if etching those words into our very bones.
A long silence followed, thick with the promise of blood.
Finally, he straightened, voice firm and final.
"We move at dusk."