10. Training Hurts

The dream didn’t feel like a dream.

Crow saw herself, ten years younger, standing on the edge of a familiar marble dias. Sunlight poured down in unnaturally still beams, casting a burning light over blood-slicked floors; the stone cracked.

She recognized it–this was some warped version of her Unveiling.

She turned back to see her younger self collapsed on the floor, the source of the blood. At her feet lay her codex, split clean down the middle. The screen still glowed, eerily blank. No runes. The Church was in chaos: mages yelling, their polished grace undone. One tried to trap her and the broken codex in a warding circle. Another shouted a sealing spell—but the rune backfired, bursting in a spray of light.

“Contain her!” warped, distorted—like a command shouted underwater. “Quickly before the class settles–”

Above her, the sky split open.

It didn’t crack. It didn’t roar. It simply fell apart, revealing stars and swirling shadows.

A thousand voices spilled from the void above, all whispering in perfect unison:

“They tried to write you out of our prophecy…”

Panic swept through the clergy. Spells were abandoned.

Figures scattered.

Crow reached for the shattered codex. Her fingers passed through it like mist.

“...But the stars have written you back in.”

Stardust and shadow coiled around her limbs like living ink.

“Inked in rebellion. Inked in truth.

The same burning she felt in the ruins surged through her.

She opened her mouth to scream—

—and woke with a gasp.

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Her quarters in the guild’s west wing felt too small. Too close. Her shirt clung to her with sweat. Gasping for breath, she clutched her chest.

Clock: 4 AM. Training.

She shoved the sheets off and dressed quickly, making her way to the misty training grounds. Cold bit into her as she sprinted across the dew-soaked grass.

Kael was already there—shirtless, muscles taut as he brutalized a conjured training dummy. Every strike echoed. Sweat dripped from his jaw.

Duskbane stood beneath a tree, arms folded, watching.

He didn’t greet her.

She blinked up at him, “Morning?”

“You’re late,” he tossed something her way.

It hit her square in the chest. She caught it–wood, weighted, and unfamiliar in her hands.

A sword. She looked up to him in confusion.

“I have daggers. That I actually can use.” Crow frowned.

“You don’t get them today,” Duskbane didn’t glance up as he took out a notebook. “This will be close-quarters sparring. Your codex says you can use swords, I want to see.”

“It also says I’m an alchemist,” Her jaw tightened.

“And that you're a tactical combat class,” He gave drt smile, eyes sharp, “I’ve read your codex from front to back. Your class being a sentinel just proves my point further. ‘Eclipsed Sentinel’ means absolutely nothing, unfortunately. The Guild’s never seen that class. So we test what we can read."

She rubbed her face and moved to the actual training area, heart racing.

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“You’re not going to cry when I knock you on your ass, right, Birdy?” Kael’s smirk was insufferable.

Crow adjusted her grip. Her stance was solid—but too rigid, too textbook. She moved like she was solving a puzzle.

“You’re not worth my tears,” She shot back, chin tilted.

“Cute,” He grinned.

Then he lunged.

The first bout lasted all of ten seconds. She parried once, dodged poorly—and hit the ground with his blade to her throat.

“Too slow,” he said.

They reset. She tried to circle, faster this time. He adjusted quicker. Another takedown.

"You’re thinking too much," Duskbane said without looking up. “Fights aren’t equations.”

Third round. Crow planted her feet, grit in her eyes. She knew how to do this. But Kael was a storm—relentless and explosive. She blocked a strike, only to catch a boot to the ribs. Air fled her lungs. She dropped the blade.

“Alright, give her a break,” Duskbane yelled to Kael.

Crow didn’t pick the sword back up. She staggered to the edge of the clearing, frustration radiating off her.

“I’m not a swordsman, I’m an alchemist.” She muttered to herself.

Yanking her codex out of its holster, flipping through the screens with angry hands. Scanning, hoping she could find what Duskbane saw in it.

“Staring at it won't fix your footwork,” Kael squatted down beside her.

“Maybe it will tell me why I’m constantly eating dirt.”

He snorted, “Because I’m better than you.”

A frustrated growl ripped through her throat, slapping down her codex between them.

Light flickered from both their devices.

Then something began to glitch on her screen–faint at first, like the shimmer of heat over stone. Kael took out his codex, it was doing the same. Glyphs pulsed, lines of text rearranged, a phrase flashed across the screens that neither of the pair could understand.

Kael stood quickly, stumbling back, codex in hand.

“What the hell was that?”

Crow couldn’t answer. Her fingers hovered above the last rune as it faded. She could feel Duskbane’s eyes on them in the distance.

“Whatever the hell you did, Birdy, it better have not messed with my codex. I can’t get another until next year.” He huffed.

“What, do you eat them or something?” She grumbled, still looking down at the device.

“They’re fragile!”

“Break’s over,” Duskbane called.

Crow sighed and pushed herself up.

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It was late afternoon before she managed to escape Duskbane’s clutches; her body was a map of bruises. Kael had been ruthless, taking it upon himself to correct her form with painful precision. Every mistake earned a smack. Every slip-up, a trip to the ground. She lost count of the amount of times she landed on her ass.

“Stop thinking about it, Idiot,” he barked, “Flow with it. You’ve got the strength, wield it.”

When she finally escaped to the canteen, she collapsed at a far table, her cheek down on the table as her hand hovered above her. She activated her healing skill with a soft mutter. Umbral Restoration—void magic. Gentle, draining, manageable.

“Crow?”

She cracked one eye open. Myra crouched beside her, face concerned. “What the hell happened? You have a black eye!”

“Kitty Cat,” She mumbled, exhausted, “Horrible instructor.”

As she spoke her eye flashed through stages of healing—purple, yellow, gone.

“I thought you had celestial magic?” She said, eyeing the violet aura radiating from her hand.

“Huh? Oh. That one was. The skill I used on Gar and the demon,” she closed her eyes, “Too unpredictable. This one is different. Void-based. Predictable. Absorbs mana or something. I can’t remember.” She started muttering, “Just makes whoever's used on tired. Drains your staMyra.”

“Why not use it when the boys came in?” Myra slid onto the bench next to her.

Crow froze, eyes opened, serious now.

“Because that kind of damage—it might have killed them. If I forced their bodies to heal all at once—think of how long it takes to heal that injury naturally, how much energy the body would use over that course of time, now imagine if it happened all at once. It would put a massive strain on the body, and maybe someone like them could have handled it, but there’s no way to tell.”

Myra’s eyes lit up with surprise, “That’s crazy! That means every wound you heal with that skill means you have to make a judgment call every time!”

"'Tis the life of a healer," Crow hummed in agreement. Her eyes drooped closed. She just wanted a small nap.

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She didn’t know how much time had passed before a tray slammed in front of her, startling her awake.

Then she heard him.

"You're drooling," Kael said.

"I'm dreaming about punching you," she muttered in response, not opening her eyes.

“Eat, Idiot,” Kael muttered through a mouthful of whatever he had.

Crow blinked blearily at the food. “Did I die? Why did you get me food?”

“Not yet,” Kael said. “Eat.”

She grumbled and sat up to look at the food in front of her. She saw a small berry filled tart before she even acknowledged the rest of the food. She went to grab it, Kael smacking her hand away.

“Eat the real food first you damn gremlin.” She glared at him, Rowan flinching as she did.

“Whatever,” She silently ate, grumbling to herself about strangling Kael one day.

“You would have to land a hit to strangle me,” He smirked. She ignored him.

Between bites, she dropped her codex onto the table, “Hey. Has your codex ever… glitched? Kitty Cat’s and mine freaked out earlier. Don’t know what changed.”

Rowan blinked.

Then frowned.

And said nothing.