Second attempt

As always, the cadets were lined up at the gates by dawn. Stern faces. Straight backs. A heightened sense of discipline. And Cassie Hale stood slightly off to the side. Like it was accidental. Like it was just more comfortable that way. In truth — because she hated waiting. Always had. Waiting left too much room for memories.
The early morning was gray. Not from fog, but from the ground itself — from the dead dust that clung to boots and skin. The soil here hadn’t birthed anything in years. It was dry, as if scorched from within — scentless, lifeless.
Somewhere beyond the perimeter, outside the invisible edge of the safe zone, wandered those who were never mentioned out loud. Sometimes you could hear them at night — like wind rustling through bones. Here, inside the Academy, it was quiet. But silence didn’t mean safety. Just routine. And anxiety had become background noise — like a faint ringing in the ears.
Cassie stood with her back straight, hands buried in her pockets. A wrinkled T-shirt cuff peeked out from under her uniform. Her hair was tied back in a lazy ponytail — just a little longer than regulations allowed. She looked like someone asking to be reprimanded. Or testing if anyone would dare.
Her face was angular, her features a bit too sharp. There was something about her appearance that threw people off — some would call it too boyish, others too bold for a girl. But her eyes — Her eyes said everything. Half-lidded, a lazy squint, like the whole world — including the people beside her — bored her to death. There was a kind of casual defiance in her gaze, barely held back by a single thought: "You're not worth my time... unless you prove otherwise."
No fear in those eyes. Just exhaustion. Not from lack of sleep — from everything.
She had come back. Not because she wanted to. Because she didn’t know how not to.
Instructor Vance walked along the line. He stopped when he saw her.
“You’re back,” he said simply. He nodded — restrained, almost formal. “I hope this time goes differently. Try not to repeat your past mistakes.”
He paused, then added:
“Vyre can help, if it gets too much. He doesn’t have a famous name, but he knows how to work. Sometimes, that counts more.”
He walked away without waiting for a reply. Just like before — leaving the choice to her. Only now, everything was different.
She wasn’t being welcomed back as the general’s daughter. Not as Sofia Hale’s sister. No one welcomed her at all.
She was just Cassie. Back from nothing.