Initiation (1)

Thursday morning, 4:57 AM – Guest Bedroom.

I woke up for the umpteenth time with a knot in my stomach, inevitably followed by a sickening nausea. Feeling miserable, I propped myself up on my pillows that kept slipping out of place. It took me a few minutes to calm my frantic breathing. Was I suffering from post-traumatic stress since my kidnapping? Was I truly losing my mind? I had been turning the question over in my head for days, unable to pinpoint the cause of my nightmares. I hadn’t dared talk to anyone about it either.

I need to understand what’s going on. These sleepless nights can't go on.

Thankfully, ‘Danéma’ and its nightmares hadn't resurfaced since last Friday. But that didn’t mean the problem was solved. The truth was, I was utterly exhausted, too afraid to sleep. To make matters worse, I was enduring a grueling training, and the muscle aches wouldn’t subside without rest. In less than a week, a vicious cycle had taken root, and if I didn’t intervene soon, it would break me from the inside.

Convinced that falling back to sleep was out of the question, I dragged myself out of bed and lit the magical lamps with a snap of my fingers. Throwing on a robe, I grabbed the first grimoire from the stack Aurora had given me. To her, books led to knowledge, and knowledge was the source of power. I couldn’t tell if it was magic or reading that interested her, but her shelves overflowed with grimoires, and her collection had even spread into the living room. My hand mechanically flipped through the yellowed pages. I’d slipped in numerous bookmarks to flag the spells I felt were worth practicing first.

Leaning against the door of my wardrobe, I began studying my seventh magic formula. I wasn’t yet able to cast spells, but I was getting closer with each session. My task was to memorize incantations. Aurora checked my pronunciation every three days and corrected me when needed. It was such an exhilarating activity that I would lose track of time. Magic might be commonplace for the Asyrians, but they hadn’t spent their entire lives sealed under an anti-magic spell!

If I had a magical affinity, I might have been valuable in Father's eyes...

The more I read, the more I realized the endless possibilities magic unlocked. The grimoires contained all sorts of incantations, organized by type and difficulty. Some spells had activation conditions, like physical contact or a delay. Others could enhance the human body, making it stronger and faster. There were also healing spells, defensive ones, elemental manipulation, and even materialization!

“Desafio Ombracé,” I murmured under my breath.

One of the two spells I was working on today could dissolve magic. It only worked if cast before the opponent's spell was fully unleashed. But if the enemy didn’t pronounce the incantation, it was lost cause... Casting magic without an incantation required an extremely high level of mastery, and Aurora did it often with ease.

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that she was cheating. Skipping incantations was one thing, but bypassing the need for magical consumables... The only way to use magic without relying on incantation sand or crystals was by possessing a magical affinity. And even then, that freedom was limited to one elemental type! Yet Aurora seemed to have no limits.

Somehow, she had found a way to break free from all constraints. Did that mean she was drawing directly from her life force to cast spells? How could an ordinary human survive that? Did that mean Aurora wasn’t human...? Was she, like me, suffering from some kind of magical malfunction?

The next hour, I did a series of stretches and core exercises. Barefoot, I replicated the moves Aurora had taught me on a rubber mat. Keeping my breathing under control took all my focus, which was exactly what I needed. After a good hour, I finally left my room to take a shower. The house was incredibly silent. Everyone must still be asleep. In the Capitol, only the servants and night guards were active this early in the morning.

I walked down the main hallway, letting my hand glide along the wall. The scent of freshly cut wood mixed with the lingering smell of food. I reached the spacious living area, which had a cozy feel to it. Its warm brown tones and large fireplace reminded me of the comforting embrace of a rustic retreat. It was the complete opposite of the Hiven Palace, where everything was kept in an artificial coldness. At the palace, I had gathered an entire collection of paintings and curiosities that fed my imagination and allowed me to escape, even for just a second, from the reality that I was unofficially imprisoned within those walls.

This was one of the rare times I found myself alone in the mercenaries' house. I took advantage of the solitude to take a closer look at the décor: almost all the furniture was crafted from solid wood, showcasing quality craftsmanship.

Over the days, everyday objects like linens or chairs would mysteriously change places, making it seem as if the house came alive when we weren't around. Justine had arranged the decorations so that no matter where I let my gaze wander, it always landed on a trinket or a plant. Having grown accustomed to studying pictorial works on the walls, I quickly noticed that this house had not a single framed photo. The realization left a bitter taste in my mouth. What kind of family didn’t frame any memories?

Deciding it was time to move on, I braced myself for the dampness outside. With all the other doors closed, I slipped out through the sliding door to head toward the paddock at the far end of the garden. The three horses had been relocated there until the stable expansion was completed. Justine had said it would take about a week and a half, meaning it would be finished in five days.

Each time I crossed the garden, I couldn’t help but notice Justine’s green thumb. Her flowerbeds bloomed in a thousand colors. The sight reminded me of the royal garden, always meticulously maintained to perfection. Once at my destination, I opened the paddock gate. The horses perked up at the sound.

They were always excited to see me because it meant feeding time. I walked up to Prince, a rather introverted animal. He was my first companion, truly mine, not just another means of transportation. I took great pleasure in riding him through the forest, following the unflappable Aurora, who guided us at a trot. Out of respect, I always groomed Prince myself, giving him all the care and attention he deserved. A faint dappled pattern covered much of his neck, descending onto his shoulders like shadows of leaves cast on his dun coat. I removed his blanket and brushed his coat and mane until all the impurities were gone.

I wish I had a mother who took care of me with such care...

Cleaning the paddock and hauling food buckets kept me busy long enough to see the shadows of the grove disappear under the light of dawn. Despite all the beauty before me, I couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. The oak forest surrounding the house formed an impenetrable wall: I was trapped, condemned to return over and over to this fake Eden.

My world had shrunk to doing chores and preparing to one day become a killer. I was slowly withering away, and no one cared. It didn’t take a Court elite to see that I wasn’t truly their guest or their comrade. If I believed our contract, I had become their slave...

Particularly enraged, I stomped back into the house and tore off my clothes in frustration. Justine witnessed my anger, but didn’t stop stirring a blueberry mixture behind the counter. I shot her a cold look, and she returned a kind smile. I hadn’t expected to be caught in such a state, but in the end, it didn’t matter. No one here cared enough to keep up appearances.

I sat down on the stool reserved for me, waiting indifferently for the cook to finish her jam. I couldn’t tell if I was hungry; I simply watched the sugar mix with the fruit. Justine was the complete opposite of her vulgar housemate. Of the three of us, she was the closest to normal. So how could Aurora, who had grown up in such a healthy environment, be so dishonest?

Last Tuesday, I had asked to change tutors for one training session, and Justine had kindly agreed. She let me use a sword instead of the training sticks Aurora insisted on. Justine was incredibly understanding. She never belittled me when I failed. On the contrary, I’d say she adapted to my pace.

She had taught me that one of the keys to victory in combat lay in anticipation: cutting off any chance of a counterattack. Whether facing an unarmed civilian or an experienced soldier, one should never underestimate their opponent and strike them down with the same technique.

“Everyone has the strength to win a fight, but few know how to use it properly,” she would say. Her insight was beyond question: I much preferred her guidance over that of an immature female adolescent! The more I thought about it, the more Justine seemed like the mother I never had. She always knew what to say when I lacked motivation or when to remain silent so as not to make things worse. That’s what she was doing now, filling her glass jars with no more than a simple “good morning.” In her presence, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

The owner of this house would grant me peace for as long as I needed it, even an eternity if necessary. Or so I thought. I had spoken too soon. Like a stalker, Aurora wildly intruded, shattering our illusion of tranquility.

If this were a banquet, she would have been thrown out for her grotesque manners. She had no charm whatsoever. Her oversized top was crumpled, and her hair was tangled into an unholy mess. Good grief, that mercenary had no concept of what social etiquette could possibly be...

~~~~

I had gotten up so early that I finished my daily list of chores faster than expected. Unsure of how to keep myself busy, I felt the urge to see what the others were doing. The first person I encountered was Justine, lounging in front of the stable. Reclined in a deck chair, she was reading an interior design magazine. Judging by her sunglasses and the angle of her seat, she was keeping a close eye on the workers. They had already opened the back of the building to extend it a few meters, and the roof had been adjusted accordingly. This morning, they were focusing on installing an elevated platform that I assumed would be a mezzanine, but for now, it was just a grid of beams and shaky scaffolding.

"Excuse me, ma’am, do you know where Aurora is?"

Without looking at me, she pointed toward the clearing. I thanked her and made my way around the stable, eventually spotting someone in the center of the sand-covered training ground. As I got closer, I recognized my tutor, seemingly engaged in a battle with an invisible opponent. Her silver-and-crimson hair was messily braided, with strands sticking out in all directions. The same wildness showed in her striped outfit, which left her shoulders and chest exposed. Tirelessly, she repeated the same movement with uncanny precision: the positions her body twisted into defied the limits of flexibility.

She moved with the grace of a bird and the agility of a snake—a deadly combination. Her brilliance was enough to erase my presence on the field because next to her lethal dance, I felt utterly ridiculous.

This is what real mercenary training looks like. No wonder they had the audacity to infiltrate the palace with this level of skill...

If I had been confident during our first fight, I now understood my place was far lower on the food chain.

"What do you want? Haven’t you been practicing with your candles yet?" she suddenly asked, stopping mid-motion.

"I have, but..."

"Still stuck?"

My silence was taken as a "yes." I had improved in combat, but certainly not in magic... After several days, I had come to the conclusion that something was holding me back from mastering this exercise. Was it because I had grown up under an anti-magic spell? Or was it proof that I didn’t have any magical malfunction?

I’m not a cheater. And definitely not defective.

Deep down, I knew fear was the root of my blockage. Using magic meant reconnecting with Danéma and reviving my nightmares. To distract myself from this thought, I changed the subject, "Actually, I came to see how you train. You mentioned taking me under your wing for your personal training sessions, but you still haven’t done anything."

"Not this time. What I’m doing is way beyond your level. Go play elsewhere until it’s your turn."

"Yeah, I noticed. Isn’t there another part of your training I could try? After all, the best way to learn is through imitation..."

Aurora stepped forward until she was right in front of me. She towered over me by a good ten centimeters, amplifying my feeling of inferiority. Still, it wasn’t enough to make me retract what I’d said.

"If you insist... Fine, get in position. We’ll do push-ups."

She shot me a merciless look that made me obey without question. Once I was on all fours, I felt a crushing weight settle on my back.

"Hey, what are you doing?! We were supposed to do this together!"

"You wanted to know how to get strong? This is how I proceed."

"By sitting on people?!"

Her legs, dressed in loose-fitting harem pants, were crossed in a lotus position, turning me into nothing more than a piece of furniture.

"No, idiot, by working out! Core training is what builds abs, and since they're the hardest muscles to develop, we work them first. If you're not happy, go somewhere else."

"No, I... I'll do it," I gritted through my teeth.

I was used to doing push-ups, but not like this.

Good grief! What does she eat to weigh this much?! Is it the weight of her muscles?

As I pushed myself up, my arms began to shake. Despite the searing pain ripping through every muscle, I refused to give up. My reputation was on the line, and I definitely didn’t want to come off as a nuisance.

"What was that?"

"What was what?" I protested, out of breath.

"You didn’t touch the ground with your nose."

"What now?! You want me to eat the sand?"

"Exactly. You bailed on me and left me to clean everything up after our first training session, remember? I’m not your maid, and this session is going to help you remember that. Now, give me fifty push-ups. If you don’t eat the sand, they won’t count."