Khristen dumped a large bucket of water over her head. The liquid seeped through the short strands of her hair before pouring back into the babbling stream beside us. I stood beneath a tree behind her, listening to birds chirping in the branches and frogs croaking in the bushes, bathing in the sunlight that filtered through the leaves.
"Ah, I can't believe I lost so terribly," she said, running her fingers through her hair and squeezing out what water remained. "My students must think I'm such a weakling."
"No, they don't," I said with a soft smile. "You could still wipe the floor with every one of them. I'm sure they're just as scared of you as they were before."
Khristen drew in a breath and straightened. "Right," she said. "But tell me something." She turned to face me. "You were holding back, weren't you?"
I fell silent, my smile fading.
"A single blow to the gut would have been enough to end my life if that had been a real battle," Khristen continued, turning away. "Just like the elf."
"That… was an accident," I said.
"That's what I don't understand," Khristen said, frustration edging her voice. "If you've lived for centuries like you claim, possess the physical strength of an angel, and fight like a fucking mercenary, then why the fuck were you running from the elves?"
"That's… a lot of curses," I muttered, lowering my gaze.
"Yeah, well put a stick up my ass and hang me over a fire," Khristen snapped.
My eyes narrowed as the image formed in my head.
Khristen stepped toward me. "Explain something to me, Aurelia. Why are you so afraid of a sword?"
I stayed quiet for a moment.
"When angels killed my father and destroyed my home," I began, "I understood exactly what I was capable of. But instead of embracing my power, I became terrified of it."
She took a step back, her face softening as droplets of water slid down her cheeks.
"I spent most of my life serving wealthy men," I continued. "I was handed from one man to another. They did unspeakable things to me because I was unbreakable. Each time, I grew more afraid of people."
Khristen's brows curved, worry creeping into her eyes as she watched me.
Unlike Carla, she didn't seem afraid.
"I never let them have their way with me, though." My eyes dropped to the dried leaves and stones at our feet. "I had heard what they did to sex slaves. So I killed a few men while trying to escape. That only made me more afraid of my power."
I paused.
"Even when the angels came again and again and took everything I loved, I was too much of a coward to fight back."
Khristen drew a slow breath and released it.
"Angels don't have hearts. I'm afraid the day I truly accept this power is the day I lose what little humanity I have left. The day mine stops beating."
"I…" Khristen stammered, lowering her eyes. "I'm sorry."
I noticed a stick on the ground behind her.
I walked forward, crouched, and picked it up. "When I train, it's different." I rose and pointed the stick toward the stream as if it were a sword.
Khristen turned.
"When I was with Amelia and her sister, I felt safe. Truly safe. I learned to swing a sword without fearing I would hurt someone." I paused. "That's why I fight so confidently during training."
"When it's real danger, I become that frightened little girl again."
My hands dropped to my sides.
I turned to Khristen and gave her a faint smile. "As much as I want to help, I will not fight with you at the border. I will guide the people across, but my power will be of no use to you."
Khristen studied me for a moment before sighing.
"I understand, Aurelia Angel—"
"Aurelia!" Minius's voice cut in.
We both turned and watched him slide down a slope leading to the stream.
Khristen's brows furrowed. "What are you doing out here?" She marched toward him and grabbed the collar of his shirt.
"Do you want the elves to see you?" she asked, glancing behind him.
"I'm alone, I swear. I was quiet," Minius said frantically between breaths.
"It's okay, Khristen. He's a friend of mine," I said.
Minius nodded, staring back into her intense gaze.
Khristen released him, and he stumbled backward, falling onto the dry leaves.
"What do you want, Minius?" I asked, walking toward him.
I crouched in front of him. "You know no one is allowed outside the camp at this hour."
"I know," he said. "But I needed to find you."
My brows drew together.
"I saw you at the announcement earlier. You're a Wanderer," he continued. "I want to join. I was hoping you could put in a good word for me."
"I thought you hated the Wanderers."
"I hate my father. I want to protect my mother. And my people," Minius said.
"You look strong," Khristen said. I glanced at her. "If you're over eighteen, I don't see why not."
I slowly turned back to Minius.
We exchanged a knowing look.
I squinted.
"Please," he begged, shaking his head.
I thought about Corven's true purpose for the battle at the border. Images of the coming casualties flashed through my mind as if they had already happened.
I sighed. "I'm not even a full-fledged member of the Wanderers. And even if I were, I'd hate to put your life in danger. Who would take care of your mother if something happened to you?"
I had to find a way to talk him out of it.
"My purpose is to be a warrior for my people!" Minius shouted.
"I understand that," I said softly. "But think about your mother. Does she even know you're here?"
Minius fell silent, his expression dropping.
I rose to my feet and turned away.
"I'm sorry, Minius," I said. "Go back home."
"I don't understand," Khristen said, staring down at him. "Is he not eighteen?"
"No… he's not," I replied.
…
The rest of the day moved quickly.
The students trained from noon until evening. The whips of their blades and the grit in their battle cries rang through the camp, and the air in the training yard reeked of dirt and sweat. I demonstrated some of the techniques Amelia had taught me, and though the students were unrefined, they mimicked as much as they could.
As orange light bled into the sky, they were dismissed.
By nightfall, fires were lit all around the camp, and as the moon shone gloriously overhead, a ceremony began.
My hair whipped in the wind as I watched from atop one of the wooden towers the Wanderers had built to look out for elves and monitor the camp.
While the men remained inside their tents, the women and girls stepped out with torches. Their footsteps were quiet at first, growing louder as they approached the center of the camp.
They formed long lines radiating outward from a gathering that had formed within a large circle of tents. Torches guttered in the wind, and a great campfire burned brightly at the heart of the procession.
For a long moment there was only silence. Only the crackling of embers and the roar of the fires filled the air.
Then the first woman at the center parted her lips.
She began a continuous tune, loud enough to be heard throughout the camp.
A second woman joined her, singing a different melody. Then a third. Then all of them.
The music rippled outward from the center of the camp, flowing through the long lines of women and children.
An involuntary smile spread across my lips as I watched.
I had seen this before. Many, many years ago.
When war was imminent, the wives of soldiers would leave their homes and pray together for the protection and guidance of the gods. The men were not allowed outside that night, so the prayer would remain pure—the beautiful, enchanting voices of the maidens of the mortal realm rising alone beneath the sky.
Even with all the ugliness in this world, this—and many other traditions—were what made humanity beautiful.
A creak sounded behind me.
My eyes snapped to the left.
I drew in a breath, catching the scent of whoever stood behind me.
I sighed, recognizing it instantly.
The floorboards creaked again, just loud enough that only my ears could hear.
Closing my eyes, I said, "My father once told me the gods don't give two hoots about human practices."
He froze.
"The gods enjoy being worshipped by humans," I continued, "but they believe intervening in mortal affairs only creates more problems."
"Who are you talking to?" Minius asked behind me.
"You, idiot." I rose to my feet and turned to him.
He was holding his wooden sword.
"Were you planning to push me off?" I asked, squinting as I leaned toward him.
"What? No!" he blurted, stepping back.
"Oh? You wanted to kill me because I refused your reckless request?" I stepped forward, and he retreated again, closer to the opposite edge of the tower.
"Why would I do that?" he said.
"Then why are you here? All the men are supposed to be inside," I asked.
"I know," he replied.
He suddenly settled into a stance, pointing his wooden sword at me.
"I'm here to prove that I'm good enough to serve the Wanderers."
My shoulders sagged, my brows curving in resignation.
I turned away and walked back to the edge of the tower.
"You know it's not about your skill," I said, sitting down and letting my gaze drift back to the crowd below. "Wielding a sword—hurting someone with it—is not the same as striking a training dummy."
"I've watched too many people I care about die right in front of me," I added quietly. "I don't want the same thing to happen to you… or any of you."
Minius sat down beside me.
"Is it true what you said?" he asked.
"What?"
"About the gods."
I looked back toward the ceremony. "Well, Yes."
"So they never answer our prayers?" Minius asked, slowly swinging his legs back and forth.
"Humans answer their own prayers," I said. "Belief is all you need."
"Belief in yourself. Belief in others."
"I believe in myself," Minius said. "Do you believe in me, Aurelia Angelborne?"
I turned to him. His hair drifted gently in the wind, his grey eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"Of course I do."
"Then you'll let me do this one thing."
I remained silent.
My gaze returned to the procession.
The songs had quieted, and the women now prayed as they extinguished their torches one by one with cups of water.
"There is one god who loves humanity deeply," I said. "My father told me about him."
"What god is this?" Minius asked.
A memory of my father flickered through my mind—the way his grey-blue eyes caught the light, the way his smile brightened my mood every time I saw it. I hadn't remembered his face in decades, but the emotions I felt back then still burned within me.
"Hephaestus," I said.
"His name is Hephaestus."
…
The ceremony was still ongoing.
I had escorted Minius back to his tent, hiding him from the lines of women. Now I was on my way to see Khristen, hoping she would be in her tent.
She had told me she wasn't a very religious person and wouldn't be partaking in the ceremony. She had also explicitly stated that she didn't want to be disturbed while it was ongoing.
A few thoughts crossed my mind.
First: she was getting a good night's sleep before tomorrow's training.
Second: she was performing some private ritual and didn't want anyone to know.
I spotted her tent in the distance.
The soft glow of a single lantern filtering through the dark canvas told me she wasn't asleep.
"Good," I whispered, hurrying toward it.
The closer I got, the louder a strange noise beyond the tent walls became.
I slowed down, narrowing my eyes.
I stepped closer.
"Yeeehs!" she moaned loudly.
I froze, my eyes widening.
What in the actual hell? I screamed in my head, my face flushing.
"Ahhh!" she cried again.
I flinched, ducking as if someone had hurled a rock at me. My face grew even hotter.
I could hear a man's heavy breathing as well, along with the unmistakable sound of bodies slapping together.
"The entire camp is performing a sacred ceremony," I muttered under my breath. "And this woman is… this woman is…"
My body grew warmer the longer I listened, my heart pounding like it might burst from my chest.
Then I remembered him.
Daniel.
The way he had touched me in our quiet moments. The way he held me so close.
Ah! Snap out of it!
I slapped my cheeks repeatedly.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Khristen cried again.
My eyes snapped upward.
I swallowed hard. Isn't she afraid of being heard?
I stepped closer until I stood directly before the tent flaps.
Slowly, I reached for them.
Then froze.
My hand hovered in the air.
I exhaled slowly, my brows furrowing.
Finally, I grabbed the flap and pulled it aside.
"Khristen!" I shouted.
There was a sudden scramble inside the tent.
Then Khristen and her lover turned toward me.
She stared back with wide eyes—completely naked, drenched in sweat—sitting atop the blond brat from the training yard.
Shock tightened my chest.
My eyes widened.
I parted my lips to scream.
She lunged at me.
…
"Will I see you again?" he asked.
"In the training yard," Khristen said, pushing him toward the tent flaps while I stood to the side, rubbing the spot on my head where she had driven her knuckle.
He had put on his trousers and held his shirt in his right hand.
"That's not what I mean," the boy said with a repulsive smirk. "You know what I mean."
"Get out!" Khristen shoved him.
His shirt dropped.
She picked it up, pulled the flap open, and threw it at his face.
Then she turned to me, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"You do not barge into someone's room without knocking first!" she snapped.
"Why would you be having sex with your student?" I demanded.
"Why not? We're both adults," she said. "Besides, he has a lot more to offer me with the sword between his legs than with an actual sword."
"Disgusting," I sneered. "You shouldn't be having intercourse on a night that's meant to remain completely pure!"
"Oh, spare me the fairy tales," Khristen groaned. "We both know religion is one big scam."
"Right…" I said, remembering. "You don't believe in the gods."
"Nope." Khristen dropped into a chair made of hay covered in thick cloth. "Now tell me, why did you interrupt my rituals this fine evening?"
I stepped closer.
"Well, it's about the boy from the forest. Minius."
"What about him?"
"I agreed to talk to you about him joining the forces."
"You know the rules, Aurelia. Only those eighteen and above can become Wanderers," Khristen said.
"I know," I replied. "But he won't stop asking until he's allowed in."
"It's not possible." Khristen stood and walked past me. "The boy is too young."
I watched her move around the tent, arranging clothes and weapons, clearly trying to avoid the conversation.
My brows furrowed, my fists tightening.
"I'll protect him!" I blurted.
Khristen straightened.
She turned.
"He'll help me guide the people across the border, and I'll watch him. If I see any sign of danger, I'll take him and we'll run."
Khristen scoffed and walked back toward me.
She stopped two steps away.
The only way I could describe her smile was devious.
"Fine then," she said. "Let's see how that works out for you."
I let out a breath, satisfied with her response.
Even if I sensed something sinister behind those words, I was relieved to know Minius would finally get what he wanted.
I returned to my tent that night, ready to sleep and forget everything I had seen.
The boy's face still lingered in my thoughts. I couldn't believe Khristen would do such a thing.
As I approached my tent, I saw someone crouched in front of the flaps.
I wasn't carrying a lamp or torch, so I couldn't see them clearly.
As I drew closer, I recognized her.
It was the girl from the announcement earlier that day.
Carla's daughter—Edith.
I hurried toward her.
"Hey," I said, crouching in front of her and taking her hand. "What are you doing here so late?"
She slowly lifted her gaze.
She looked exhausted. Her eyes were dark, as though she had been crying for hours.
"I…" she stammered. "I couldn't sleep there by myself."
"Oh," I breathed.
I understood completely how she must have felt after seeing her mother's head on that stake. The face of the angel who murdered my father still haunted my dreams.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked. "Just for tonight."
I cupped her cheek.
"You can sleep here anytime you want."
She stared at me for a moment, then wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in my chest.
I wrapped my arms around her and lifted her from the ground, carrying her into the tent.