It was midday when the ten trainees finally took their first break. When Dalen Rho led them into the mess hall, the air was already thick with food and voices, and the great cauldrons by the kitchens stood half-full. One by one, the small group scattered to whatever seats were left.
The mess hall was a long, rectangular space of stone and timber, its narrow windows set high, with shutters kept half-closed even in daylight. Furnishings were plain—sturdy tables bolted to the floor, benches worn smooth by countless bodies. There was no decoration at all, only a few Ignium lights fixed to the walls.
Soren found himself grouped with three others. As soon as they settled, the brown-haired Aren Cael—seated across from him—was the first to break the silence.
"What an upgrade. No more mess hall duty. Perks of being Ignisants." He kept his volume low, green eyes flicking toward the unfamiliar faces at nearby tables. They had only set foot in the Compound that morning; better to stay cautious than be overheard saying something foolish.
"Trainee Ignisants, mate," Enari Heikka—blond, seated beside Aren—corrected dryly, already halfway through his plate. "We don't even have the toys yet."
"I can't wait to get my hands on one," Aren muttered, stabbing the meat with his fork. "We marched for days, and all Ignisant Rho gave us was a tour and the same confidentiality speech, again and again."
"You think the Ignis Corps hands out ignisers like bread rations?" Enari gave him a pitying look.
Aren only raised a brow at the mocking tone, then tipped his chin toward the ash-blond beside Soren. "Hey, older Bach—you've seen one fired, right? What's it like?"
Seppo Bach, who until then had been eating in the same quiet rhythm as his younger brother, finally glanced up, his hazel eyes flicking between Aren and Enari as he spoke.
"Nothing like a warbow. No draw, no arrow. Just a crack—loud, sharp, like the world splitting. The Ignisant barely moved when he fired. Just a breath, a squeeze. Sound tore the air, and the target was down. I never saw the shot itself. Only the fall. Like lightning striking."
Enari froze mid-chew, suddenly alert. "And the wounds?"
Seppo shook his head. "Didn't see. Too far. I was cover that day, keeping eyes outward while the pair of Ignisants worked. Once all targets were down, we pulled out."
"Of course they'd keep it vague," Aren groaned, rolling his eyes. "Always the mystery. Wouldn't kill them to share a little with their own men."
Even Enari looked disappointed now. Both were ready to sink back into their plates when Soren spoke.
"It punches through."
All three looked over at once.
"And burns," he went on, smiling faintly. "Hair singed. Flesh blackened. Skull cracked, brain burst apart. A hole rimmed with fire."
Seppo stared hard. "When did you see that?" The look he gave Soren said the rest: You knew this, and never told me? Your own brother?
"I didn't." Soren's smile widened. "Just guessing."
Aren and Enari stared, unsettled.
At length Aren blinked at him, then barked a laugh. "Gods, younger Bach. Had my hopes up for a moment. Almost sounded like it'd be worth ten weeks of hell training."
"Sorry, mate. Guess we'll all find out," Soren said coolly, lowering his head to his plate again.
"Speaking of training," Enari muttered, "you think she might be one of the Ignisants paired with us?"
"Who?" Seppo arched a brow, chewing.
"Mate, who else?" Aren frowned. "The she that showed up this morning. Clemens."
Seppo finally caught on. "Oh. The Ignisant everyone talks about."
"Didn't expect to run into her our first day," Enari admitted, shock flashing across his face at the memory. "Sina, wasn't it? Odd name."
A dreamy sigh escaped Aren. "Insanely gorgeous up close. Like a walking sculpture."
"A doll," Enari countered flatly. "Looks more like a Prime House lady than someone who's put half a regiment in the ground. Hard to believe, just looking at her."
"That's just what they recorded," Aren shot back, smirking. "My hero lady's got more in her than that." His smirk faltered entirely when his gaze slid to Soren across the table. Bitterness edged his tone. "But why was she staring at you earlier, younger Bach?"
Soren lifted his head, his golden eyes tilted in amusement. "Did she?"
The question deepened Aren's scowl. But before he could snap back, the air in the hall shifted. A hush rolled through the long room, drawing every eye to the entrance.
Sina Clemens appeared there without flourish, her stride quiet, her expression blank, her platinum braid hanging still against her back. She paused at the threshold, light-blue gaze cold as ice as it swept the room, searching.
Most of the hall had emptied by then, but those who remained stopped mid-motion, staring as though her presence was a rare sight.
Aren and Enari exchanged an uneasy glance. They hadn't expected to see her again—not so soon, not right after they'd been talking about her. Seppo noticed the tension but felt little of it himself; his eyes drifted instead to his younger brother.
Soren sat still, unnervingly calm, his golden gaze fixed on her. The fork he had been holding was now placed neatly beside his plate, the meal before him completely forgotten.
When her eyes finally met his again, Sina started forward, heading straight for their table. Around her, chatter picked up again, forced and nervous, spoons scraping against bowls as heads dipped low.
Aren looked away at once, his throat tight, his voice a tremor. "Is she... coming this way?"
"Yup," Enari muttered, equally wary. "Twice in one day. What are the odds."
Seppo kept eating, unbothered. Soren didn't. He held her gaze as she approached, the corner of his mouth curling higher with each step.
"You there." The words landed on Soren as soon as she reached his table. "When you're done, I want a word. I'll wait outside."
Soren smiled, his posture relaxed, his tone casual. "Aren't you going to eat, madam? They're about to clear the tables."
Sina studied that smile. She had waited all morning for this, counting the minutes until she could approach the young man with the familiar face. She had watched him walk into the mess hall with the rest of his group, then deliberately held back until lunch was nearly over before stepping in herself—avoiding the prying eyes and low whispers, and giving the young man time to finish his meal.
But as the minutes dragged on, unease had crept in—what if he slipped out through the back door by the basin instead of the main hall? Better to be certain. So Sina had stepped inside at last, laying the demand on him plainly before she lost the chance. She had expected questions, objections, perhaps even refusal. Instead, he offered none of that—only an imperturbable calm in the face of her sudden command.
"Not fond of the food here," Sina said with a shrug.
"I'm done," Soren pushed back from the bench and rose. His plate was half-full.
She glanced at his plate, doubt flickering in her eyes for a brief second. "Come, then." She turned, her braid swaying lightly at her back.
Without a word, Soren followed. The two slipped out through the main entrance, and muted murmurs filled the space again once they had gone.
At the table, silence lingered. Aren, Enari, and Seppo sat rooted in place, each left with nothing but questions none dared voice aloud.