The morning horn was sounded once, twice, three times — sharp in the cool air. The barracks stirred with groans and shuffling feet. I rolled off my cot, tail brushing the floor, scales catching the faint lantern light. My ears twitched at the muted sound of boots outside; Halvern was already waiting.
By the time Squad Four assembled, Halvern stood in the yard, arms folded, expression unreadable. The other squads were already gathering, the smell of cold iron and oiled leather hanging in the mist.
His voice cut through the chatter. "The monster is dead. That matter is closed. You will not concern yourselves with it further."
No build-up. No explanation. Just the end of a chapter we weren't even allowed to read.
"You will resume normal training cycles," Halvern continued. "Patrol rotations will be reassigned. Today — close quarters drills."
He turned on his heel before anyone could speak.
Riken leaned toward me as we fell into line. "That's it? Just 'monster's dead, go back to work'? Not even a 'we fought valiantly' or 'it was the size of a barn'?"
"Would you really expect him to tell us?" I asked.
"I'd expect something." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "If I ever get eaten by a monster, tell a good story about me."
Vell snorted from behind us. "If you get eaten by a monster, Riken, I'm telling everyone you tripped into its mouth."
The training field had been marked with rope lines and wooden barriers. The air smelled faintly of trampled grass and sweat from earlier drills. Kael — the veteran from Halvern's squad — was already there, arms crossed. Her gaze swept over us like she was assessing tools in a rack.
We paired off for sparring. Riken took first watch, leaning against a post and tossing his knife in one hand. My partner was Danya — fast, precise, and utterly relentless.
Our first clash sent vibrations through my arms. I twisted, letting my tail sweep behind me to keep balance. The fin caught a glint of sunlight, and I saw her eyes flick to it — just for a moment.
"Better," Kael's voice cut across the field. She had moved without me noticing, standing just behind another pair. "But your stance is sloppy on the recovery. You'd be on the ground if this were a real fight."
Her words were not cruel, just exact. She turned her gaze to another group. "You two — you're fighting separately. Cover each other's openings. You're not brawlers, you're a unit."
She moved like a shadow, appearing wherever form faltered. "Back foot anchored. Hands up. Eyes on the chest, not the blade. If you keep watching the weapon, you'll always be a step behind."
I caught Riken muttering, "Remind me never to spar under her eyes."
"She's right, though," Brayden replied, panting from his own round. "She sees everything."
By midday, sweat stung my eyes and my scales itched under my uniform. My ears twitched at the sound of boots on the gravel path — another squad moving toward the field. Halvern barked a sharp order, sending them toward the southern grounds.
We broke for water, sitting in the shadow of the barracks wall.
"Anyone else think it's weird?" Riken asked between gulps.
"What, Halvern not explaining?" I said.
"No. The way they've been moving us around. Like they don't want us in one place too long."
"Maybe it's just training variety," Vell offered, but there wasn't much conviction in his tone.
Before I could answer, a ripple of unease ran down my spine. My ears shifted instinctively, catching a faint, distant sound. Not voices. Not wind. Something higher — the rush of air over wide wings.
I looked up. For the briefest second, a shadow crossed the sun. Broad. Graceful. Alive. It wheeled once, high above the training yard, before vanishing into the glare.
When my gaze dropped back to the field, Kael was watching me. Just for a heartbeat — then her attention was gone, fixed back on a pair of trainees fumbling a grip change.
Halvern's voice pulled me back. "Form up. We're running the gauntlet drill before sundown."
The rest of the day blurred into motion — strikes, falls, recoveries. My body moved on instinct, but my mind kept drifting upward, to the empty sky.
If the Beast was still out there, it hadn't given up its watch.