Page 87 of The Awakening of Essensia

She glanced at Ressa. The woman walked steadily through the rain, her hood drawn but her shoulders square, jaw set. There was a grit to her, the same grit Vaelira saw in herself.

Ressa turned, snagging her gaze. Vaelira smiled and shook her head slightly. Nothing, she said silently, realising she knew so little about the woman. Maybe it was time to start letting Ressa in.

As they passed through the gate and into New Town, people stepped aside to let them through, most with heads bowed and shoulders hunched, but some watched curiously. Some of the faces were smeared with grime, their eyes sharp and accusing, as if the recruits had been the ones to wipe the dirt on their faces.

A small girl in a faded coat darted alongside them, waving and giggling when someone waved back. Her mother scooped her up, and the girl squealed with laughter, kicking her feet wildly.

“They stink like the Abyss,” muttered a voice behind her.

Vaelira stopped. The recruit collided with her back.

“Watch it,” he snapped.

Vaelira turned to face him, Fang and Ressa flanked her.

“I wanted to check something,” Vaelira said, tilting her head and wrinkling her nose. “Hmm. You seem to be mistaking their stench for your own.”

The man sneered. “What would a prince’s whore know about it?”

Fang cracked his knuckles.

The man stuck out his chest. “Can’t fight your own battles? Guess the prince’s little—”

Vaelira’s hand snapped out, striking him in the throat. He staggered back, choking. She kicked out his legs and let him crash to the cobblestones where he wheezed for breath, clutching at his neck.

Her palms prickled, but she took a slow breath and the sensation vanished. She turned to catch up with the rest of the group, not waiting for him to get to his feet.

“That was satisfying,” Ressa said, stepping beside her.

“Yeah. I hate Lukas,” Fang added with a grin.

Vaelira smiled.

The training field was half drowned. Ressa stood across from her, rubbing her shoulder where Vaelira had landed the last blow.

They were barely ten minutes in, and Vaelira’s boots were already filled with water, her toes stinging and numb from the cold. It was really time for her to invest in some new gear.

Rain lashed her face with every gust, her braid whipping around her shoulders, soaked strands clinging to her skin. The wind howled so loudly she could barely hear her own breath, let alone Jurah’s instructions.

Then it wasn’t the wind that made her ears ring. It was something else, something… wrong. She glanced around, but nothing seemed out of place.

Ressa swung at her and Vaelira parried the blow, sending it over her shoulder. Ressa crossed, twisting and swinging with the other fist. It landed squarely on the side of Vaelira face, and she staggered back. A metallic tang coated her tongue, the same as the night before, and a chill ran the length of her spine, more cutting than the rain.

“You didn’t block,” Ressa said, panting.

Vaelira shook her head. “Go again.” She raised her fists, trying to focus on the moves Jurah had demonstrated.

The metallic taste flared again, and her gaze snapped to the left. She dropped her fists.

Kolborn stood alone under a small shelter, watching the drills from a distance. Something crouched low behind him, something dark and hunched. It rose, its movements unnatural.

Her body screamed to act, but no sound left her mouth. Her voice was trapped in her throat, panic lodged there like a stone. She reached for her power, but it didn’t answer.

The shadow leapt.

A single flash of movement and the figure vanished.

Kolborn collapsed. Blood pooled beneath him, seeping into the sodden grass.