The winter winds howled against the stone walls of the orphanage, their icy fingers sneaking through cracks to steal warmth from the sleeping Wardens. Arteja pulled her thin blanket tighter around her shoulders, staring at the moonlight spilling through the high, barred window of the dormitory. Around her, the other girls were fast asleep, their faces serene despite the grueling days they endured.
Not Arteja. Her muscles ached from the relentless training, and her mind churned with questions she couldn't answer. Who had left her here? Why? Did they expect her to survive this place, or had they abandoned her to die?
The door creaked open, and a familiar figure slipped inside. Lirael, her long auburn hair tied back in a loose braid, padded over to Arteja's cot and crouched beside her.
"You're awake again," Lirael whispered, a teasing smile playing at her lips. "Thinking too much will get you killed, you know."
Arteja managed a weak smile. "And sleeping too much will leave you unprepared."
Lirael chuckled softly. "You're impossible." She sat beside Arteja, pulling her knees to her chest. "Corliss was talking about you today. Said you've got potential."
Arteja's brow furrowed. "She did?"
"Don't act so surprised." Lirael nudged her with an elbow. "You've been outpacing most of us for weeks. Even Rowyn's noticed."
Arteja didn't respond. The praise felt hollow. What good was potential if she couldn't protect herself—or anyone else?
"Hey," Lirael said, her tone softer now. "You're not alone, Arteja. Whatever happens, we've got each other's backs, right?"
Arteja nodded, though she wasn't sure she believed it. In the orphanage, survival came first. Loyalty was a luxury few could afford.