Dawn broke too soon. The first shafts of sunlight slipped past the wooden shutters of the barracks, cutting lines of gold across the floor. Children stirred one by one, groaning as they pulled themselves from their mats, rubbing their eyes, preparing for the daily ritual of sweat and exhaustion.
Atlas sat up smoothly, stretching his arms overhead until his joints cracked. His muscles were sore, but not unbearably so. The routine had become second nature.
"Alexios," he called across the room.
No answer.
Curious, Atlas pushed himself to his feet and crossed the room. Alexios still lay on his back, unmoving, his spear propped against the wall beside him. But when Atlas leaned closer, he froze.
Alexios's eyes were open. Wide open. Dark circles carved shadows beneath them.
Atlas blinked, then let out a laugh before he could stop himself.
Alexios groaned. "Don't you dare laugh."
Atlas covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. "I—ha—sorry, but you look like Hades himself rejected you."
"I wonder why?" Alexios muttered, glaring. "Maybe because someone decided to drag me across rooftops last night and reveal the truth of my entire existence?"
Atlas burst out laughing again, unable to hold it in. "By the gods—your face—"
"You're at fault for this!" Alexios snapped, though his lips twitched, betraying the faintest smile.
Atlas wiped his eyes, still grinning."I admit it. But if you could see yourself right now—"
Alexios groaned again and sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Anyway, let's go. The guards will notice if we're late." He grabbed his spear and pushed himself to his feet.
Atlas eyed him, smirking. "Can you even train in that state?"
"Shut up," Alexios growled, jabbing his finger toward the door. "Let's go."
The training field burned beneath the morning sun. Children clashed with wooden weapons, their shouts mixing with the barked orders of masked guards. Dust clung to sweat-slicked skin, turning every child into a creature of grime and effort.
Atlas wielded his training sword with practiced ease, his strikes precise, his parries efficient. Alexios, on the other hand, looked like he might collapse. He swung his spear with less of his usual vigor, sweat pouring down his face, his movements sluggish.
At one point, mid-swing, he staggered and pressed a hand over his mouth.
Atlas couldn't resist. "What's this? The mighty Alexios, brought low by lack of sleep? Should I fetch you a cradle?"
Alexios shot him a glare that could have cut stone. With a growl, he thrust his spear forward in a sharp jab, forcing Atlas to dodge.
"Still strong enough to gut you," Alexios snapped.
Atlas chuckled, stepping aside with ease.
"You're enjoying this too much," Alexios muttered between thrusts.
By high noon, the children collapsed in the shade, their bodies aching. Water skins passed between them, though never enough to quench their thirst. Atlas sat cross-legged, his eyes half-lidded, letting the hours slip by in thought. To him, time seemed swift, each moment a stepping stone toward the night's true task.
For Alexios, the opposite was true. Every minute dragged like an eternity, his mind replaying the sight of cradles, the whispers of stolen children. He tapped his spear restlessly, glancing at the sun, feeling the sun was moving slower today.
"Can you calm down a bit, you're getting restless," Atlas observed.
Alexios growled. "Easy for you to say. You didn't learn last night that your whole life's a lie."
Atlas tilted his head, unbothered. "True."
Finally, the break ended. Atlas and Alexios rose together.
"Let's hunt," Atlas said simply.
Alexios grinned, though his eyes were shadowed. "Finally."
They headed toward the forest, slipping away from the main group. But just as they reached the edge of the camp, a voice called out behind them.
"Atlas! Alexios! Wait!"
They turned to see two figures jogging to catch up: a boy and girl, both ten years old, their faces familiar.
The girl, Thea, was striking despite her shy demeanor—dark hair framing bright eyes, her expression uncertain but her steps quick. She carried a bow across her back, moving with surprising grace. The boy, Lukas, was her opposite: large for his age, his frame already broad, his stride heavy but confident. A heavy bladed axe rested in his hand, though his movements carried the ease of someone who had been taught to use it properly.
"We're coming with you," Lukas said cheerfully, his deep voice booming louder than necessary.
Alexios raised a brow. "Coming with us? Since when do we take tagalongs?"
Thea flushed, her eyes darting away. "We thought… we could help. Hunt together." Her voice was soft, hesitant.
Atlas studied them for a long moment. His mind flicked back to when he had first met them—how Lukas had struggled with his heavy weapon, his swings powerful but slow, leaving him open. Atlas had guided him to a lighter blade until he grew older, teaching him footwork, patience. Thea had been even more surprising—shy in words, but fierce when her bow was in her hands.
He had trusted them enough to share the secret of Eagle Vision, guiding their steps toward survival. And when he and Alexios had been away, it was often Lukas and Thea who took the lead in hunts, feeding the camp.
Atlas and Alexios exchanged a glance. No words passed, but the meaning was clear. These two could be trusted.
Alexios smirked first, spinning his spear into his hand. "Fine. But don't slow us down. We've got work to do."
Thea smiled faintly, relief softening her face. Lukas grinned wide. "Good. I was tired of swinging my axe at training posts anyway."
Atlas's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Then let's hunt."
And together, the four of them stepped into the forest, the shadows of trees swallowing their figures as the sun began its slow descent.
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