"Good job, both of you." Captain Reed's voice cut through the training field like a well-worn blade.
"Brittany. Darcy. You're up."
The two girls stood from opposite ends of the bench—sisters only by name.
Brittany moved slowly, eyes lowered, fingers curling tighter around her sword's hilt with each step toward the clearing.
Darcy rose with a scoff, already spinning her blade as if the match were over before it began.
Raymond leaned forward, elbows on knees.
Roland crossed his arms. The other princesses giggled in anticipation, but no one knew what they were thinking:
This won't be fair.
Captain Reed gave them a nod. "Ready?"
Brittany forced her spine straight and gave the faintest nod.
Darcy grinned like a wolf. "Let's dance."
"Begin."
Brittany's back stiffened as Darcy's eyes locked on hers—predatory, gleaming.
Then she charged.
The air split with the sound of steel slicing forward.
Brittany barely got her blade up in time—clang!
Sparks flew.
The impact rattled her bones.
A moment later, she was on the ground, breath knocked out by a kick to her gut.
"Too slow, pipsqueak," Darcy taunted, bouncing lightly on her heels.
Her dark hair whipped across her shoulders, catching the breeze like a banner of smugness.
Brittany rolled to her side, coughing.
Darcy leaned forward, voice syrupy and cruel. "Remind me again what you are? Oh, right. A fragile little human mistake. I swear, I feel sick every time I see your useless face."
A few of the princes flinched. Dawn looked away. No one spoke.
Brittany's hand tightened around her sword hilt. She rose slowly, teeth clenched, trying to keep her pulse steady.
Her vision blurred around the edges—not from fear, but something else. Something off.
Darcy came again, quick and merciless. Their swords clashed, steel scraping steel.
Brittany held her ground longer this time, but her limbs felt sluggish. Her breathing grew shallow.
Darcy stepped back with a snort. "What, are you dizzy now too?"
She spun.
A roundhouse kick flew—but Brittany ducked beneath it, springing up with a sudden burst of clarity and driving her boot into Darcy's side.
Darcy staggered back.
The field paused.
Brittany blinked. Her chest heaved. Something burned under her skin.
"You—" Darcy hissed, face twisting in rage. "You btch!"
She rushed forward, shouting a half-finished incantation as sigils ignited around her blade.
A volley of flame-laced strikes rained down.
Brittany stumbled back, fell to her knees. Her sword caught most of them, but one slash sliced across her upper arm.
She winced.
Why do I feel… strange?
A sharp pulse throbbed behind her ribs. The air thickened.
Darcy raised her sword again, poised to strike.
"Just as worthless," she spat. "You'll always be—"
Her body crashed backward mid-sentence, flung like a rag doll across the clearing and into the tree line.
The thud echoed like a distant drumbeat. Bark cracked. Leaves scattered.
Silence gripped the field.
Brittany hadn't moved.
She stood with her head lowered, hair falling like a veil over her eyes, blade loose in her fingers.
The aura hit them a second later.
Not just power—bloodlust.
It poured from her like smoke from a wildfire, ancient and untamed.
The kind that prickled every neck, tingled every spine, froze every breath.
Roland stiffened. "What is that?"
Even Captain Reed blinked, jaw tightening.
It was as if something had uncoiled inside her. Something dark. Something waiting.
Darcy rose shakily, hair tangled, blood at her lip.
"B*tch… I'll—!"
She lunged without thinking.
Brittany looked up slowly.
Her eyes glowed faintly—amber-gold, molten and unfocused. Her lips curled into a small, calm smirk.
Darcy struck.
Clang.
Then—Pow. Pow. Pow.
A blur of blows.
Brittany's blade moved faster than it should have.
Her footwork was flawless. She didn't block—she anticipated.
She flowed like shadow, like fire.
And when she struck, it was like getting hit by something much heavier than a girl her size should ever carry.
Darcy flew again—back into the same tree, this time with a cry of pain that cut off on impact.
The clearing exhaled in one breathless gasp.
Nobody moved.
Not the guards, not the captain, not her siblings.
Raymond's brows furrowed. Richard, for once, said nothing.
Brittany stood in the centre of the training ground, sword lowered, shoulders rising and falling with each shallow breath.
Her expression unreadable. Like a predator in between instincts.