Nightfall after nightfall, days transitioned seamlessly into weeks, and before I realized it, three entire months had elapsed since I had relocated to Fleya's tent. Orryn, ever the persistent presence, tried to bridge the chasm between us, attempting conversation on numerous occasions. But Fleya, the fiercely protective younger sister, was always quick to steer me clear from his approach, making sure he never crossed within our immediate perimeter.
Gradually, the ache in my heart began to ebb away, replaced by a growing numbness. The sleepless nights filled with incessant tossing and turning as I yearned for his comforting presence started becoming infrequent. His proximity and the soft rhythm of his breathing that used to lull me to sleep no longer haunted my solitude. I was slowly adapting to his absence, adjusting to a life that didn't revolve around him.
Ttoday marked a significant milestone, the commencement of my training. A few days ago, Seraphina had finally given the green light for me to engage in light physical activities, including some mild stretching and gentle exercises. She had been hesitant, hoping to keep me away from the training grounds for a while longer. But thanks to Fleya, my translator and confidante, I was able to insist on starting my regimen at the earliest.
Our communication skills had considerably improved over time. We had come up with an array of symbols to express more complex thoughts, enabling a deeper level of interaction. Fleya no longer needed the original page to decipher my symbolic language, showing just how attuned we had become to each other. Her constant companionship was a comforting constant, her presence a soothing salve against the backdrop of Orryn's absence. And honestly, I relished her company. Because whenever she wasn't there to distract me, my thoughts had an uncanny tendency to stray back to him.
Today, though, Fleya's distraction couldn't hold a candle to the onslaught of apprehension that washed over me as I faced the prospect of training. It wasn't the physical exertion that worried me; rather, it was the inevitable crossing of paths with Orryn that the training grounds promised.
As we approached the training area, the clanging of metal against metal and the grunts of effort sent a shiver down my spine. It was a lively scene, filled with members of the resistance sparring, exercising, and strategizing. Despite their shared, grim reality, there was an underlying camaraderie and resilient spirit that permeated the air. And standing amidst it all was Orryn, his commanding presence impossible to overlook.
His eyes found mine as we approached, an inscrutable expression clouding his features. I felt my heart clench as Fleya tugged at my arm, directing me towards the beginners area. As the distance between Orryn and I increased, I couldn't help but steal one last glance at him. His gaze was still fixed on me, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of something akin to regret in his eyes. Shaking off the confusing feeling, I resolved to focus on my training.
The first few days were grueling. My body ached from muscles I hadn't used in years being pushed to their limits, and my nights were spent nursing my wounds and recuperating. But the pain was a welcome distraction, a tangible struggle that kept my mind off Orryn. As weeks passed, I felt myself growing stronger, my body slowly adapting to the rigors of the training.
And so the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, our lives falling into a new rhythm. Every day, I'd train and grow stronger, and every night, I'd retire to Fleya's tent, sharing in her infectious energy and enthusiasm. The nights were no longer haunted by Orryn's absence, but filled with laughter and companionship.
Through it all, one thing remained constant, Orryn's lingering gaze, and the fire it set ablaze in the pit of my stomach. No matter where I was, I could always feel his eyes on me. Though we were a world apart, his presence was as palpable as ever, a reminder of the complicated knot of emotions we were entangled in.
Despite the distance between us, I couldn't help but wonder what could've been if things had been different. But the reality was stark and undeniable. As I looked at my reflection each day, the woman who stared back was no longer a prisoner, but a warrior, ready to face whatever the future held. I was a part of the resistance now, my destiny forever intertwined with theirs. And despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, I felt a sense of belonging I hadn't felt in a long time. I was home.
The woman I had become was a far cry from the wan, emaciated creature I once was. After six demanding months of training, my body had undergone a significant transformation. My hollowed cheeks were now full, the ashen pallor of my skin replaced with a healthy glow. The frail skeleton I once was had been supplanted by a figure adorned with lean muscles, a testament to the countless hours of exertion I'd subjected myself to. The slight curves that now traced my form were a testament to the much-needed weight I had gained, supplanting the alarming thinness that had once hinted at my desperate state.
Eleven months. It had been eleven months since Orryn had carried me, more dead than alive, out of the torturous confinement of the prison. Eleven months since we'd breathed the sweet taste of freedom and safety, even if it was tinged with the bitter knowledge of those we'd left behind.
Plans for a rescue operation to liberate the others still trapped in the prisons were underway. Many of us, scarred by our shared experiences, had been clamoring to launch the mission far earlier. But Orryn, ever the pragmatic leader, insisted on patience and preparation. We needed to be ready for the inevitable confrontation that would ensue, he argued. The heavy toll of the previous rescue mission, the wounded warriors, the expended resources, the mental strain, served as a sobering reminder of the risks involved.
The urgency of the impending mission was palpable, but there was also an undercurrent of resolve that ran through the camp. We were all willing to risk everything to free those still suffering under the brutal regime. The promise of freedom, a beacon that had guided us during our darkest moments, was now within our reach.
As I gazed upon my own reflection, a wave of profound gratitude washed over me. I was alive. Not just surviving, but truly living. Yes, the burden of our pasts still weighed heavily upon us all, but in spite of that, or perhaps because of it, we were all determined to change the fate of those still suffering. For their sakes, and for ours, we had to succeed. We had no other choice but to.
"Are you absolutely certain about this, Nadya?" Fleya's voice echoed in the room, her concerned gaze resting on me as I adjusted the warrior's uniform I'd been given. She was sprawled across her bed, her eyes never straying from my form. "You've been thriving under your current captain's guidance. You don't need to transfer to Orryn's unit."
Yet, I did. As I caught her eye, I conveyed my resolve without uttering a word. It was a bitter truth I had grappled with for days on end, in order to elevate my skills to the next level, I had to train with the one person I was determined to keep my distance from. This internal conflict tore at me, the thought of reigniting my one-sided feelings an ever-looming threat.
Yet, the draw of the battlefield was too potent to resist. The strategic dance of war, the sheer adrenaline rush that surged through me during every simulated skirmish, had ignited a fierce passion within me. I felt as if I was meant for this, that I had a natural affinity for the strategic dance of war, a prodigy born for the heat of battle.
Yet, training under Orryn was not a decision I was taking lightly. His notorious reputation for being a demanding, no-nonsense instructor had not escaped my attention. I was well aware of the physical and mental challenges his rigorous training regimen posed. And as Fleya was quick to remind me, there was no hope of special treatment.
"Remember, Orryn has explicitly stated he won't go easy on you if you switch units," She continued, her expression stern. "He won't treat you any differently just because you two have a history."
A faint, wry smile played on my lips at her words. I wasn't seeking any favours, nor did I expect any. 'Exactly as it should be,' I thought, rolling my eyes subtly at her protectiveness. It's not as if we are friends.
Fleya and Orryn's relationship, had healed over time. Her love for her brother had eventually won over her anger, and they had resumed their familiar interactions. Yet, her protective streak for me remained as strong as ever. Despite their reconciliation, she had continued to keep him at bay, ensuring he had minimal access to me.
"Its almost time," Fleya's voice was quiet but steady, betraying her lingering concern as she watched me. Her eyes were filled with an intense mix of worry and hope. "Are you ready?"
I turned to face her, feeling a reassuring surge of determination pulsing through my veins. I was prepared for the journey that lay ahead, the difficult days of training and the impending battles I would have to face. Drawing a deep breath, I gave her a firm nod. 'As ready as I'll ever be,' my eyes spoke volumes, silently promising that no matter how strenuous the journey, I was resolved to brave it.
Every fiber of my being seemed to resonate with this newfound courage, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. From this point on, there would be no turning back, no escaping the path I'd chosen. Yet, in the face of uncertainty and trepidation, I felt an empowering sense of clarity and resolve. For the first time in a long time, I felt that I was exactly where I needed to be.