I lay in bed, shaking.
The dream had already broken apart, its pieces scattered like glass. Nothing coherent remained.
Just images that dissolved when I reached for them.
I couldn't remember the sounds or faces, only the weight of it. The kind that clings to your spine long after waking. My mind forgot. But my body didn't.
The fear lingered. Tight in my ribs.
Sharp in my hands.
Like the smoke left behind after fire.
Like a scar where no wound remained.
A knock broke the silence.
Light pooled beneath the door.
Alteria.
She stepped inside without a word. Her presence didn't fill the room. It settled, quiet and certain.
Her eyes were sharp, but there was something gentle behind them. Something waiting.
She didn't ask what I'd seen. Didn't pry. She just looked at me, really looked, and asked.
"Are you alright?"
There was a figure, I thought. Just before she came in. A shadow tucked into the edge of my vision. Still. Watching. Gone now.
"...Yeah," I murmured. "I'm fine. Thanks."
She didn't press. Didn't question my lie.
She only nodded once, then stepped out and closed the door behind her.
I turned away from the light, curling into the dark. It felt safer than whatever she had offered.
—————
Morning didn't wake me.
I'd never really gone back to sleep.
The castle stirred around me.
Soft clinks of armor, distant murmurs.
The subtle hush of routine. But the air still held the cold of night, like the sun had forgotten to rise.
We stood in the training yard before its light reached the castle walls.
The stones beneath our feet were damp.
Breathing out the night's chill.
Alteria stood across from me.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
I wasn't. But I didn't say it.
What would be the point?
Thalia passed behind us, quiet and efficient.
She left two cups of tea on the stone ledge.
Still steaming. Still untouched.
A nurse. A maid.
And something else I couldn't name yet.
Always moving. Always watching.
Alteria wore a veil again.
Her stance was elegant, her posture composed.
Every part of her still.
And me?
I felt like noise.
I lifted my hand to my chest.
The heat still slept beneath my skin, coiled like something half-awake. I called to it. It responded.
Purple fire curled across my palm.
Flickering in the early light.
She didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
I moved first.
The fire roared forward.
Messy, loud, alive.
Her cloak of water rose to meet it, not rushed.
Not panicked.
Just... there.
Steam hissed into the air, catching in the early light.
She stood unmoved.
Not enough.
I surged forward, fire spilling from my limbs.
The air shimmered around me.
Ash followed me like a wake.
My foot cut through the space between us.
A clean kick, sharper than anything I'd practiced.
She didn't blink.
She stepped aside. Effortless.
Again.
I twisted into another blast.
Laced it into a spinning strike.
Fire flared from my heel.
She moved back, just out of range.
Not attacking.
Just watching.
Studying.
Every move I made was met with silence. Not even the wind dared fill the gap.
I pressed harder. Fire licked up my arms, trailed from my shoulders. Another burst, aimed dead center. I wanted something, anything, to land.
I wanted proof.
Proof I wasn't a mistake.
That she didn't choose wrong.
Why won't she let me hit her?
Why won't she give me this?
Blast.
Dodge.
Kick.
Dodge.
Again and again. My body burned.
My chest ached. My breath came in pieces.
But I kept going.
Because stopping would feel like admitting something I wasn't ready to say out loud.
Another strike. wild. Sloppy.
She sliced it apart with a gesture, as if it were nothing but smoke. Then came the water.
It moved like a limb, like a thought.
It wrapped around me.
Clean, cold, absolute. I couldn't breathe.
Her eyes locked to mine.
Not angry. Not cruel.
Searching.
What are you looking for?
She didn't say.
Then she dropped me.
The water let go without sound.
I hit the stone hard, coughing.
My lungs screamed, but nothing came.
The cold clung to me, more inside than out.
She walked over, footsteps quiet against the stone.
She offered her hand. I didn't move at first.
I looked at it like it wasn't real.
Like it might vanish if I reached.
It wasn't her skill. Or her rank. Or her mana.
It was her presence.
She moved like someone who belonged to the world. Like she knew her place in it and didn't doubt it for a second.
I envied that.
I was just guessing. Every step, every breath.
Still... I reached up.
Her hand was warm. Steady.
She pulled me up—and didn't let go.
Instead, she pulled me close. A hug.
Tight. Grounded.
Like I was something precious she'd almost lost.
I froze.
I didn't hug her back. Not at first.
I didn't trust her. Not all the way.
Not yet.
But I didn't want her to let go, either.
And I hated that part of me.
The part that wanted this.
That needed it.
Why did I care what she thought?
Why did I need her approval?
Because she chose me?
Because I wanted to believe she didn't make a mistake? Because maybe, deep down, I wanted someone to believe I was worth choosing?
I hated how fragile that made me feel.
How small.
She held me like I mattered.
And I didn't know what to do with that.
I hadn't known her long. Days, maybe. Hours, if you counted only the real moments.
But something had shifted.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But something.
She didn't say anything.
Neither did I.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It just... was.
The steam from the tea had stopped rising. The stones underfoot were warming with the first touch of sun. The veil over her face caught a glint of light, but her eyes stayed hidden.
She pulled back.
Let me go.
The cold rushed in where her warmth had been. Not cruel. Just real. I didn't look at her right away. My eyes stayed on the ground.
I felt like I'd been broken open. Not shattered.
Just exposed.
I was still breathing. Still standing.
But something inside had shifted.
I wasn't ready to name it.
Not yet.