I was in the Pit.
How did I get here?
No. No. No.
I escaped. Aethera saved me.
I couldn't be back here.
I ran to the cage entrance, but it was locked. My heart thundered against my ribs as I clawed at the bars. Let me out! Let me out!
Behind me, the sound of metal grating against stone made my blood freeze. All six of the steel doors slid open in unison, revealing the dark shapes lurking behind them. Monsters. Hordes of them.
They rushed me, all claws, teeth, and unrelenting savagery. I fought—breaking bones, snapping jaws, spilling ichor across the floor—but there were too many. They overwhelmed me, their bodies piling on top of mine until the weight crushed the breath from my lungs.
I thrashed and bucked beneath them, a feral, desperate attempt to break free, but I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.
Suddenly, they were gone, vanished like smoke. Yet I was still paralyzed, trapped by invisible chains.
"Did you think you could escape me?"
My head snapped up at the sound of his voice.
"Sire," I snarled, the name tasting like poison on my tongue.
He chuckled, a dark, grating sound that crawled under my skin. "I made you, girl. You were worthless before I found you, and I turned you into my champion. MINE!"
"Fuck you!" I spat, fury burning through the fear. "I am not yours! I will never be yours!"
His grin was cruel, predatory. "Oh, you think you're safe now? You think those Fae can protect you? No one can keep you from me, Jay. You are my creation. I own you."
He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You'll only get them killed. Have you forgotten Mira already?"
The air around him shimmered, and suddenly, she was there—Mira, lifeless on the ground. Her veins were blackened, her unseeing eyes wide, blood still gushing from the deep gash in her throat.
"No!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face as I tried to move. But I couldn't.
Sire circled me, his voice a venomous whisper. "She loved you, and you got her killed. She didn't even know why she died, did she? Or did you tell her how you were becoming my perfect little killer?"
"I will kill you," I growled, my voice shaking but filled with pure, unfiltered rage. "I swear to god, I will get stronger, and I will kill you. Even if it's the last thing I do, you motherfucker!"
He laughed, a manic, bone-chilling sound. "Not if I find you first."
And then he was gone.
---
The toll of a bell yanked me out of the nightmare. It echoed through the walls, vibrating in my chest like a deep, relentless drumbeat, sounding like it was right in the room with me.
My skin was slick with sweat, my heart hammering as if it were trying to escape my ribcage. I sat up, gasping for air, my fists clutching the sheets like a lifeline.
Fucking nightmare.
I tried to swear out loud again, testing it. Yep. Definitely a dream. The real life me could never bring myself to swear so freely, no matter how much I wanted to.
The bell tolled again, distant now, as if it had retreated somewhere deep within the academy grounds. My eyes flickered to the windows, where faint light hinted at a sunrise. Some kind of magic, probably, to make sure we all woke up on time.
I dragged a hand down my face, my pulse still skittering from the dream. You're okay, Jay. You're not back there. Don't let him get to you.
A long, shaky sigh escaped my lips. Right. First official day at the academy.
And I already felt like I'd been run over by a fucking chariot.
The events of last night replayed in my mind—the dinner, the tension, the glances I couldn't quite decipher. Ember's casual grin and laid-back attitude had been the only thing that kept the awkwardness from swallowing me whole. I could still hear the hum of conversations and quiet whispers that came when no one thought they were being heard. I would have to face that again this morning
I sighed again, forcing myself to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floor sent a sharp jolt through me, grounding me in the present.
Dragging myself to the bathroom, I splashed cold water on my face. It stung, but it was a relief, snapping me into something resembling alertness. But my reflection… damn.
The braid that I'd worn for years—hell, decades—was a tangled mess. The kind of mess you couldn't fix with a brush or a comb. It was more like one solid, unruly clump of hair that looked like it could strangle anyone who tried to tame it. I wasn't even going to bother. There was no time for that. I wasn't here to impress anyone with pretty hair anyway.
I wiped my face dry and stared at myself in the mirror, taking in the full picture. I wasn't sure how to feel about the girl staring back at me. She looked stronger, more capable, like she finally had a purpose in this world. The girl in the reflection was someone who was ready to fight, even if she didn't quite know all the rules yet.
Time was ticking.
I walked to the dresser, fingers brushing over the smooth wood as I opened it to retrieve the uniform we were required to wear today. Yesterday, I'd carefully folded and arranged everything inside, a ritual that had felt almost sacred. These were the first possessions that were truly mine, the first items I could claim as my own.
The thought settled warmly in my chest, softening the ever-present ache of displacement. These things — small as they were — were mine. The simple act of touching them made me feel a little more grounded, like I was beginning to carve out a space for myself in a world I wasn't sure I belonged in yet.
It was a fragile start, but it was mine, and that was enough.
I pulled on the uniform without a second thought. It felt… right. The soft leather caressed my skin, cool and flexible, molded to my body like it had been made just for me. The high collar sat against my throat, drawing attention to my jawline in a way that made me feel sharper, more dangerous. The chest and waist were tightly fitted, showing off the muscle I hadn't even realized I'd built until now. It was all sleek and deadly, but damn, it looked good in a way that made my own pulse quicken. The belt slung low on my hips would hold weapons later when we do get them. The whole thing was the perfect balance between function and form—made for battle, but undeniably alluring.
I checked myself over in the mirror again, letting my eyes linger on the way the uniform made me look. I felt different. Powerful. Dangerous. Maybe a little too much so for comfort. But then again, this was the life I was choosing now, whether I liked it or not.
I walked to the door and swung it open, stepping into the hallway. The cold stone beneath my feet, the faint echoes of footsteps somewhere down the hall—it all felt so… final. So decisive.
And then, there was Ember.
He was leaning casually against the doorframe of the room next to mine, his easy smile as wide as ever. His carefree aura was like a breath of fresh air compared to the heaviness of everything else. As soon as he saw me, his eyes narrowed with that familiar mischievous glint.
"Did you eat?" he asked, his voice smooth, with a hint of teasing as if this were any other morning.
I shot him a look and sighed tiredly. "No. I really don't wanna step foot in a dining hall this morning ."
He tossed a protein bar my way with a flick of his wrist, too casual to be bothered. "Well, You'll need food. You need to fill in all that empty space. You look like you could be blown away by the wind at any second."
I caught the bar mid-air and glared at him. But he was already pushing off the doorframe, turning to lead the way down the hall. I followed, the distant whispers of other recruits reaching my ears before we even rounded the corner. Their voices were hushed but charged with curiosity, some not-so-quiet murmurs catching my name. 'Why is she walking with Ember? The second-in-command?'
It was impossible not to overhear them. I could feel the weight of their questions pressing down on me as if they were trying to dissect me with nothing more than a few passing comments.
But I ignored them, focusing instead on the echo of my footsteps on the cold stone floors and the quiet hum of Ember's presence beside me. He was walking like it was just another day, his posture relaxed. What I wouldn't give to be that relaxed right now.
We got to the courtyard where the rest of the new recruits were gathered for the orientation. We were all wearing the same uniform. I joined the crowd as they shot curious sidelong glances at me but I ignored them.
See? I was getting good at this ignoring thing already.
Ember stepped to the front of the crowd where a few other Elites stood, clearly preparing to address us. The murmurs died down as everyone turned their attention toward him. But then, suddenly, everything changed.
One moment, Ember was the laid-back guy I'd grown used to, the one who joked around with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The next, he was someone else entirely. His shoulders squared, his gaze sharpened like a blade, and his voice dropped an octave. The carefree Ember was gone, replaced by the commander I had only heard rumors about.
"Alright," he said, his voice carrying with a force that made it feel as if it could reach every corner of the academy. "Listen up, recruits."
His words sliced through the whispers like a knife. A chill ran through the air. All eyes snapped to him, the shift in energy palpable. The Ember I knew? Gone. The leader stood in his place, commanding respect with nothing more than his presence.
"Welcome to the Elite Academy. Some of you may know this place is a neutral ground," he continued, his tone firm, unwavering. "That means you're not here to be part of any court. You're here because you left everything behind. Your courts. Your allegiances. Your pasts. From this moment on, you belong to this academy and your loyalty is to the Academy and the Academy alone. Do you understand?"
A sharp chorus of "Yes, Commander" rang out, echoing across the courtyard.
I felt the weight of his words settle deep in my chest. There was no room for mistakes. No room for hesitation. This wasn't about politics or history—it was about the realm. And that, above all else, was the only truth that mattered.
"The academy is here to protect," Ember continued, his gaze sweeping over us all—fifty-plus recruits, strangers to him in more ways than one. "To serve. To mediate when the courts threaten war. But most importantly, we are here to protect this realm from threats you can't even imagine yet. And let me be clear: if you're not ready for that... if you think you're here for the prestige or the respect... walk out now."
Not a single recruit moved. Ember's eyes hardened as he went on.
"Good. Because if you stay, there's no going back. You will face two sets of trials. Fail both, and you're out. No exceptions. Only those who pass can be sworn in. But even then, your loyalty will be tested. If you can't be trusted, you won't make it through the semester. And you sure as hell won't make it as one of us. The Elite Warriors are only as strong as the trust between them. Without it? You're nothing."
The tension in the air thickened as his words sank in. No one dared to speak. No one dared to breathe too loudly. Passing the trials didn't guarantee anything. The weight of the Academy's standards was suffocating, and for the first time, I realized just how high the bar was.
"The first trial is at the end of the semester," Ember went on, his voice cutting through the silence. "The second will be at the end of your second year, upon graduation. But before those, you'll face mini-trials throughout the semesters. If you have any questions, ask your handlers. Do you understand?"
A unified "Yes, Commander" rang out again, the cadence almost military in its precision.
"Good," Ember said, his voice softening just enough for us to feel the shift. "Now, follow me. I'll show you around."