Aeris

Aeris woke to the sharp clang of the morning alarm. The deep, resonating sound echoed through the barracks, signaling the beginning of what would be their final day of training before war.

The girls around her groaned as they stirred from their beds, the reality of what was to come settling heavily in the air. No one spoke much these days. There was nothing left to say.

Aeris sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her body ached from weeks of relentless training, but she had grown used to it. Pain was nothing new.

As the recruits shuffled toward the communal baths, she followed silently. The water was cold as she splashed it onto her face, sending a shiver through her already tense muscles. She didn’t linger. With the war so close, no one did.

After a light breakfast—stale bread and watered-down broth—they made their way to the training grounds for the last time before battle.

The sun hung low in the sky as she arrived, her boots kicking up dust as she crossed the field. The air was thick with tension, the usual chatter of the trainees subdued, their movements sharper and more purposeful.

Kael was already waiting for her.

She had grown accustomed to his presence. He was the only one she spoke to, the only one who didn’t treat her like she was fragile or strange. As she approached, he leaned against a post, arms crossed.

“You look like hell,” he greeted with a smirk.

Aeris exhaled through her nose. “You’re not exactly a sight for sore eyes yourself.”

He chuckled but quickly sobered. “You should talk to the others, you know. They’re going to be fighting beside you tomorrow.”

She frowned. “I don’t need friends.”

Kael sighed. “You don’t have to be alone, Aeris.”

“I’ve always been alone.”

He watched her for a moment, then shook his head. “Suit yourself.”

They took their places among the trainees, their swords gripped tightly as they prepared for the last time.

The training was easier than the first time. Kael had helped her in areas where she was lacking and gradually, she was becoming more of a solider than a street fighter.

Soon, the training ended and Lord Lucian appeared.

He strode onto the field, his dark cloak billowing in the wind, his presence commanding absolute silence. His gaze swept over them, cold and calculating.

“Tomorrow,” he began, his voice steady, “you face the Veldrosians.”

Aeris felt a shiver crawl up her spine at the weight of his words.

“For years, they have taken from us. They have raided our lands, burned our villages, slaughtered our kin. They believe we are weak. They believe we will cower beneath their blades.”

His voice grew sharper, each word a dagger.

“But they are wrong.”

The recruits straightened, shoulders tightening, jaws clenching.

“They will see that we are not cowards,” Lucian continued. “That we do not kneel. That we do not forget.”

Aeris swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Kael looking at her.

“Tomorrow, we take back what is ours. We fight, not for glory, not for gold, but for vengeance. For every mother who has wept, for every child left orphaned, for every home reduced to ashes. We fight in King Saran’s name.

And we do not stop until every last one of them drowns in their own blood.”

A silence followed, heavy and suffocating.

Then, as if on cue, a roar erupted from the trainees.

Aeris did not shout, but she felt the fire in her chest.

Lucian’s gaze found hers. And then, he signaled for her to follow.

Kael moved to follow, but Lucian stopped him with a single glance.

“Not you.”

Kael frowned but obeyed. Aeris hesitated before stepping into the commander's private chambers.

The office was grand but cold. A large wooden desk stood at the center, maps and scrolls scattered across its surface. Weapons lined the walls, each blade polished to perfection.

Lucian turned to her, folding his arms.

“How have you been faring?”

Aeris blinked. That was not what she expected.

She hesitated. “Fine.”

Lucian tilted his head slightly. “No troubles with training?”

She shook her head. “None.”

His dark eyes studied her. “Good.”

Aeris glanced at him, once again struck by how young he was. Earlier, she had estimated him to be in his late twenties but she was sure that he could be younger than that and yet, he commanded one of the most feared armies in the seven kingdoms.

“How did you…” she hesitated, then reworded her question. “How did you become this at such a young age?”

Lucian’s lips curled slightly. “That is a story for another time.”

There was something almost soft in his voice. Not the ruthless commander who had just spoken to a field of warriors. It unsettled her. He wasn't this soft to anyone.

He exhaled and stepped closer. “Stick with Kael during battle. You fight better together.”

Aeris frowned. “Why do you care?”

Lucian’s eyes darkened slightly, as if the question had struck something deeper than she intended.

“You remind me of someone.”

Aeris blinked. “Who?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back to his desk.

“This won’t be easy,” he said instead. “Be ready.”

Aeris watched him for a moment, then nodded. “I will.”

She turned to leave but then—

“How old are you?”

Lucian looked up, startled. “…What?”

“How old are you?” she repeated.

For the first time, Lucian almost looked amused. “That’s none of your business.”

Aeris narrowed her eyes. “Come on.”

Lucian exhaled, as if debating whether to humor her. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

He nodded. “Then I’m twenty-four.”

Aeris tilted her head. “That’s… young.”

Lucian smirked. “Is it?”

She hesitated, then asked, “How did you become a general so young? What of your parents? Siblings? Are you King Saran's son?"

The amusement in his eyes faded instantly.

His entire demeanor shifted—his expression turning to stone.

“Leave.”

Aeris stiffened at the sudden change. “I didn’t mean—”

“Leave, now.”

Aeris swallowed, her throat suddenly dry.

She murmured a quick apology and turned to go, the tension in the air pressing against her back.

She had asked the wrong question.

And now she couldn’t stop wondering why.