Dawn in Draeven wasn't gentle.
The royal barracks exploded into motion before the sun had even touched the city's blackstone towers. Horns blared. Swords clashed. The stench of sweat, steel, and damp stone filled the air.
And I stood in the middle of it all, wrapped in a worn leather tunic, facing down a ring of Draeven's finest like a lamb thrown to wolves.
> This was my first day as a recruit of the royal guard.
Captain Ren paced before us—tall, rigid, with scars crisscrossing his arms like stitched battle hymns.
"Rule number one," he barked. "You don't fight for glory. You fight to live. Rule number two—don't waste my time. Rule number three—if you bleed, don't cry about it."
A few of the other recruits snorted or exchanged glances. I said nothing.
I didn't come here to make friends.
---
Bastien stood at the edge of the sparring circle, arms crossed.
He was the one who scoffed at me yesterday. He didn't hide his dislike now, either.
"Let's see what the charity case can do," he muttered, stepping forward.
Captain Ren raised a brow. "You want to be the first to spar with her?"
Bastien smiled like a wolf who already knew the outcome. "She's small. I'll go easy."
I stepped into the ring.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I had to.
---
The circle formed around us—recruits watching, whispering, grinning. Swords were drawn, dulled for training but heavy enough to bruise bones.
I kept my breathing even. Light on my feet. I'd done this a thousand times behind palace walls. But never like this.
> This time, they didn't know who I was.
This time, I wasn't Seraphina.
I was just Sera.
The whistle blew.
Bastien struck first—fast, powerful, reckless. His sword came down like a hammer. I pivoted, letting the blade skim past my shoulder, and deflected the next strike with a sideways parry.
He was strong. Trained.
But he was also used to winning.
> I could've knocked him flat in under a minute.
But I didn't.
I held back.
Slowed my steps. Pulled my strikes. Missed on purpose.
Let him control the fight.
He grunted with frustration, his swings growing sharper.
> "Stop playing cute."
I didn't answer.
He lunged again—this time catching me with a shoulder to the ribs. I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from my lungs. His blade stopped at my throat.
"Guess the forest made you soft," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
I didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
Just looked him straight in the eyes.
---
After the session, as the recruits dispersed, Bastien caught me before I left the ring.
"You let me win," he said under his breath.
I didn't respond.
He stepped closer. "Don't insult me. I saw it in your footwork—you were holding back."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said quietly, brushing past him.
But he grabbed my arm—not hard, just enough to stop me.
"You're not who you say you are."
That made me pause.
He looked at me, not angry now—curious. Cautious.
> "What are you hiding, Sera?"
I met his eyes.
"Nothing worth your time."
---
Later that night, in the quiet of the barracks, I sat alone, tending the bruise on my ribs. The candlelight flickered against the stone walls.
Bastien's words echoed in my head.
> "You're not who you say you are."
He was right.
But he wasn't ready for the truth.
No one was.
Because the girl I used to be had died the night the sword slipped into my hand.
But I had my reasons for holding back.I don't want attention. I just wanna get stronger and this is a huge opportunity to get stronger.