Trynton's calloused hand rose, silencing the murmurs around us. His eyes, hard as flint, flickered from Anyae to Dyon, who stood rigid beside me.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Trynton's mouth as he jerked his chin towards the training square. "Come here, boy. We'll use you as an example so car face can have a break."
The bastard. My fingers instinctively traced the melted, grotesque patch of skin on my face, drawing disgusted looks from the surrounding thralls. I knew Trynton was putting on an act, but he seemed to be relishing the insults a bit too much. The scowl I shot him only widened his smirk.
Dyon turned to me. No one wanted to harm the poor little mute, least of all him. "Wish me luck, friend," he murmured.
I crossed my fingers in the air, forcing a weak smile. "You've got this." The words rang hollow though, memories of Anyae's cold, lifeless eyes on that wagon coming back to haunt me. How does one fight a ghost?
As Trynton stepped back, Anyae and Dyon faced each other in the training square. The wind danced through Anyae's choppy dark strands. At Trynton's signal, Dyon lunged forward, his elbow aimed at Anyae's face.
But this wasn't the scared teen I remembered. Anyae moved swiftly. She ducked, swirled, and weaved around Dyon's attacks as if they were nothing more than gentle breezes. Left, right, left again—each blow missing by a hair's breadth.
"Come on!" Trynton's mocking voice cut through the air. "Going to let some mute kick your ass? Let alone a girl?"
Anger flashed in Dyon's eyes. He spun, fist flying towards Anyae's face. But she simply closed her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she dipped beneath his arm.
In a flash, Dyon's free hand clamped around her wrist.
I found myself leaning forward, heart pounding. This wasn't the Dyon I knew—not the gentle soul who'd never harm a fly. And Anyae... the girl who once flinched at raised voices was now taunting a fellow thrall with nothing but a smile.
What happened next left us all breathless.
Anyae leapt, her body twisting in the air as she flipped over Dyon. The sickening pop of her shoulder dislocating echoed across the yard, yet she didn't even flinch.
My jaw dropped, mirroring the shocked gasps of the other thralls. And Trynton? For the first time since I'd known him, the hulking man looked as though he'd been frightened, wearing the same haunted expression I'm sure I'd worn earlier—as if he too had seen a ghost.
Dyon stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock and remorse. "I-I didn't mean to," he stammered.
Anyae uncoiled from her crouch, rising to her full height. Though she barely reached Dyon's shoulder, her presence seemed to fill the entire training yard. "It's alright," she said, her voice soft and husky, sweet as honey. The sound of her actually speaking and not using sign language sent a chill down my spine.
This wasn't the Anyae we knew.
Trynton crossed the distance in three long strides, his large hand clamping onto Anyae's slender, bruised shoulder. "Take a deep breat—"
Before he could finish, Anyae placed her delicate hand atop his calloused one. With a sickening pop that echoed across the yard, she pushed her dislocated shoulder back into place. The casual ease with which she did it left us all stunned into silence.
Trynton's face held a flicker of concern. "Maybe you should go to the Thrall infirmary," he suggested, his gruff voice softening as he pointed west across The Hollow's grounds.
Anyae nodded and walked away without a word. As Trynton began organizing the next set of opponents, I seized my chance. Slipping from the line as quietly as a shadow, I followed Anyae's retreating form.
I shadowed Anyae's steps, my breath caught in my throat as she made her way down the dirt trail. Everything seemed normal enough, save for her newfound fighting capabilities. Suddenly, she froze mid-stride, becoming as still as a statue halfway to the Thrall infirmary.
My heart stuttered in my chest. God, I must have looked like some creepy stalker. Panic rose in me as her head began to turn, those dark eyes sweeping in my direction. The small, squat building across from me offered the only refuge, but I'd never make it in time.
In that moment of desperation, two words flashed through my mind: Reckless Valor.
As if responding to my silent plea, the world around me sharpened. My senses heightened, and energy coursed through my veins. A translucent blue screen materialized before my eyes:
[System]
[Reckless Valor (Level 1) Activated]
• Activates in high-stress situations
• Boosts Strength by 20%, Speed by 15%, and grants 50% Fear Resistance
• Duration: 5 minutes
• Cooldown: 1 hour
The world blurred around me as my legs moved with inhuman speed. In a heartbeat, I found myself pressed flat against the back wall of the squat building, my chest heaving with exertion and adrenaline.
Had she seen me? I held my breath, pulse racing as I leaned out ever so slightly. Relief washed over me as I saw Anyae walking again, right past my hiding spot. But the relief was short-lived.
Crewcut was leaving the infirmary, his face looked worse than it had when they'd first taken him. Angry welts and dark bruises bloomed across his features, making his once-intimidating visage into a swollen mask of itself.
Good.The sight brought satisfaction to me. The way he was pushing around others was unacceptable, leaving me with no guilt at all.
The two nearly collided, Crewcut's good eye narrowing as he snarled, "Watch it." He shoved Anyae, but she hardly moved, instead stepping directly into his path as he tried to go around her.
I glanced around, searching for witnesses, but the area was deserted. The infirmary door was shut tight, the dirt road empty. Of course, I realized. Why guard a path when half the occupants inside were too injured to run? And those who tried... well, their untreated wounds would finish the job.
The setting sun painted the sky in deep purples, streaked with gold and pink. It should have been beautiful, but the tension in the air left me no room to enjoy the sight.
"You think this is funny, you mute little bitch?" Crewcut's voice dripped with venom, his words a toxic brew of rage and humiliation. "If you think I'll let you get the best of me like that scarred shit-face did, you're in for a rude awakening."
He snatched Anyae's ear, yanking her down with savage glee. My muscles coiled, ready to spring. I remembered how she'd helped me in the barn. So what if she was acting strange? She hadn't tried to harm me, right?
I edged out from my hiding place, poised to intervene. But what unfolded before me turned my blood to ice.
Anyae straightened, her movement fluid as quicksilver. In a heartbeat, she grasped Crewcut's wrist and twisted. The sickening crack of bone splitting flesh tore through the twilight air. White bone jutted from his forearm.
Before Crewcut's scream could escape his lips, Anyae's delicate hand clamped around his throat, lifting him as if he were no more than a rag doll.
"What the fuck," I breathed, the words barely a whisper. But in the deathly silence, it was enough. Anyae's head snapped towards me, and I recoiled, my skull cracking against the cold stone of my hiding place.
"Pl-please don't," Crewcut wheezed, his plea a pathetic rasp.
Anyae's cold laughter drifted to my ears. Unable to resist, I peered around the corner once more.
"You weren't so merciful when you tormented her," Anyae's honeyed voice was now laced with contempt. "Stealing her food, mocking her silence. I recall she begged too."
Crewcut clawed at her arm, leaving crimson trails. "Wh-who's 'her'? Why are you speaking as if you're not—"
Bubbling laughter shook Anyae's frame, the dying sunlight gilding her face in an unholy halo. "Because I'm not."
Before my disbelieving eyes, her choppy dark locks bled white, cascading down to her ankles like a moonlit waterfall. Her skin paled to alabaster, fingertips blackening like frostbitten flesh.
"Who are you?!" Crewcut howled, lashing out with a desperate kick. The being wearing Anyae's face caught his leg effortlessly. With a sickening wrench, she tore it free, discarding the limb like a broken toy.
The severed leg landed with a wet thud at the mouth of my hiding place. My throat constricted as a chilling realization dawned—this was no accident. She knew I was watching.