Silence choked the training hall, thick with dust and shock. Amidst the debris littering the floor near the cracked wall, a figure stirred. Kiera groaned, pushing herself up on trembling arms. Crimson blood streamed from a gash on her forehead, painting a macabre mask over her features and dripping into eyes already blazing with fury and pain.
What kind of idiot uses that kind of force in a spar? Corvus thought, a mix of disbelief and reluctant admiration warring within him. Adrenaline might be fueling her, but her body was clearly wrecked.
Kiera spat a mouthful of blood onto the stone floor, staggering to her feet. Even as her legs wobbled, a feral, bloody grin split her lips. Corvus moved swiftly, catching her before she could collapse, letting her lean heavily against him. Her breath came in ragged, wet gasps – the impact had clearly driven the air from her lungs and likely bruised something vital.
"You okay?" Corvus asked, genuinely impressed by her sheer, stubborn resilience, even if it bordered on suicidal stupidity.
Kiera managed a weak nod, then coughed violently, flecking his duster sleeve with more red. "Yeah... peachy... just... need a sec..." Her voice was a strained rasp.
"Clearly, you need to sit down before you fill your lungs with blood," Corvus stated flatly, scanning the suddenly still room. Every eye was fixed on them, expressions ranging from shock to disapproval. Such brutality had no place in training.
"HAHA! My bad!" A booming laugh shattered the tension. Varek Stone swaggered forward, chest puffed out like a preening rooster, a stupid, unrepentant grin plastered across his slab-like face. He was enormous – bald head gleaming, shoulders impossibly wide, towering over most in the hall. "Guess I'm not used to holding back for fragile little things!"
No remorse. No concern. The sight ignited a cold fury in Corvus's gut. He despised this type – bullies who treated others like playthings. But the anger flared hotter, sharper, fueled by recognition. Varek Stone. A ghost from his past, a tormentor who had never faced consequences. Memories of humiliation and helplessness surged.
"Apologize properly, baldy," Corvus snapped, the words out before he could filter them.
Varek's eyes narrowed with annoyance, then widened in recognition, morphing into malicious amusement. "Well, well! Look what the tide dragged in! What are you doing here, Fuller bastard? aint any gutters to scrub here."
Kiera, still leaning on Corvus but recovering some fire, squinted at Varek. "Why would he think the guards let a cleaner in here?" she rasped, genuinely confused. "Is he stupid?"
Corvus tapped his own forehead with a knuckle. "See the dent in that polished dome? Should answer your question."
Kiera looked back at Varek's gleaming head, then shook hers slowly, wincing. "Right. My mistake for asking him to spar."
Corvus started steering her away, deliberately turning his back on Varek. The dismissal was absolute. Varek's face flushed crimson, the smug grin vanishing. Insulted? Ignored? In front of everyone? He was Varek Stone, a Kindled vessel connected to the Royal Family! Unacceptable!
A faint, fiery ring ignited around Varek's dark irises. "Running away again, bastard?" he bellowed, voice thick with rage. "How typical! Scuttling off like the gutter rat you are!"
Corvus didn't flinch, didn't turn. He kept walking.
Varek's control snapped. "Your family paid good coin trying to find their lost embarrassment! And what did they uncover? You, holed up in some stinking port town, playing house with a washed-up tavern whore!"
Corvus froze. The world narrowed to a pinprick. He released Kiera, his movements suddenly deliberate, terrifyingly calm. He turned slowly. His eyes, when they met Varek's, were like chips of frozen amber. "What," he enunciated, his voice dangerously low, "did you just say?"
Varek laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Struck a nerve, gutter boy? Heard she was desperate enough to take in even your kind! Laughable!"
Melissa. The name echoed like a detonation in Corvus's mind. Varek wanted his attention? He had it. Fully.
Corvus walked back towards Varek, closing the distance with measured steps. He stopped mere inches from the towering Kindled, tilting his head up to meet Varek's burning gaze. The pressure radiating from Varek was immense, a physical weight pushing against Corvus's chest, making it hard to breathe. Yet, Corvus stood rooted.
"I suggest," Corvus said, his voice devoid of all inflection, "you take that back."
Varek leaned down, the fiery ring around his pupils blazing brighter, bathing Corvus's face in an eerie light. His smile was predatory. "And if I don't?"
"Then you will die for it."
The words hung in the air, absolute and cold as a grave. No bluster, no heat. A simple statement of fact.
Varek's grin widened, a predator scenting worthy prey. "Oh," he breathed, the pressure intensifying, "I'd love to see you try, gutter trash." He raised a massive fist, knuckles cracking, the air around it shimmering faintly with heat.
Corvus braced, every muscle coiled. He might be un-Kindled, but he knew where to strike, how to make it hurt, how to end it. He'd tear this bastard apart with his teeth if he had to.
But before Varek's fist could descend, a different pressure slammed into the hall. It wasn't heat or force; it was sheer, icy command, freezing everyone in place. The air itself seemed to solidify.
"ENOUGH!"
Captain Cesara Vale's voice cracked like a whip, echoing off the stone. She stood in the doorway, radiating an aura of absolute authority. The sharp click of her boots on the stone floor was the only sound as she strode towards the center, her icy blue eyes locked onto Varek with lethal intensity.
"All of you," she commanded, her voice cutting through the paralysis, "sit. Now."
Behind her stood four figures:
A young woman with striking lavender hair pulled back severely, wearing a crisp, tailored version of the military uniform, her expression impassive.
An ancient man leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane, his back bent, eyes milky but somehow unnervingly aware.
Two stern-faced priests in dark robes, carrying a small, ornate box draped in pristine white silk between them.
the recruits and soldiers shuffled towards the benches, the earlier tension replaced by wary obedience. Varek slowly lowered his fist, the fiery ring fading from his eyes, though his expression remained defiant. He leaned close to Corvus as he passed, his voice a venomous whisper.
"Saved by the Captain... again. Run along, bastard."
Corvus didn't react outwardly. He watched Varek move away, his own face a mask of calm. But beneath the surface, his mind was a churning maelstrom. The cold fury hadn't dissipated; it had crystallized.
When he'd said Varek would die for it, it wasn't a threat born of anger. It was a promise. A debt now etched in ice and blood. Sooner or later, it would be settled