The squad's barracks were quiet when I entered, the distant rumble of thunder the only sound beyond my footsteps. The room smelled faintly of aged wood and damped stone, its dim light casting shadows.
It wasn't the first time I'd been assigned a room, but It was the first time I felt the weight of sharing with others.
A boy who was about my age sat one of the bunks, leaning back casually with his legs stretched out. His reddish-brown hair was unkempt, curling slightly at the edges, and his amber eyes gleamed with a mischievous light. Despite his relaxed demeanor, his posture hinted at a readiness to spring into action into any moment.
"So, you're the new guy," he said, grinning. "Name's Fenrick. Looks like we're roommates."
I regarded him coldly, dropping my bag onto the nearest cot. "Modred," I said curtly.
Fenrick chuckled, unfazed by my tone. "Not much of a talker, huh? Don't worry you'll get used to it."
I didn't respond, turning my attention to unpacking.
We exited the barracks to the campfires, as we sat down three more figures approached us, their chatter cutting through the unnerving silence.
The first was a woman with long, silver hair in a loose braid. Her violet eyes were sharp yet kind, she carried herself with a quiet confidence. She wore a slim dark tunic, and her fingers absentmindedly traced the hilt of a dagger at her side.
"I'm Ana," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I hear you held your own against Draven."
I nodded, not meeting her gaze.
The second was a tall guy with pale skin and piercing green eyes. His short, black hair was neatly cropped, and his build was muscular but not overbearing. He carried a massive halberd strapped to his back, the weapon gleaming faintly.
"Jean," he said simply, his deep voice resonating in the air. "I saw the fight. Impressive."
The last was a girl no older than me, her short, wavy brown hair framing a face full of curiosity. Her bright hazel eyes sparkled as she looked me over.
"I'm Luna!" she said cheerfully, her voice breaking through the tension. "I'm the best at mana control in Squad five. If you ever need help with yours, just ask!"
Her enthusiasm was almost overwhelming, but her genuine smile made it difficult to dismiss her outright.
Before I could respond, Xeraniel strolled in, his white hair and glowing blue eyes drawing attention. He leaned casually against the tree nearby, his ever-present grin firmly in place.
"Looks like the gang's all here," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "How's it feel, Modred? Finally making friends?"
I shot him a glare but said nothing.
The group settled into the air, their voices filling the space with stories and laughter. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself drawn into the conversation.
Fenrick encountered the time he'd gotten lost during a mission, only to stumble upon a hidden village where the residents worshipped a giant chicken a god. Ana rolled her eyes at his antics but couldn't hide her smile.
Jean spoke of his time training under Captain Bran, describing the grueling regimen that had shaped him into a warrior. Luna chimed in with tales of her experiments on mana control, including one that had accidently set her own hair on fire.
"Modred," Fenrick said suddenly, turning to me. "What about you? Got any stories?"
I hesitated, the campsite falling silent as they waited. Finally I spoke. "Not much to tell."
"That's a lie," Xeraniel interjected griming. "He nearly gave Draven a run of his money earlier. That's a story worth telling."
The others murmured in agreement, their gazes turning to me with newfound respect.
"Most people can't even last a minute against Draven," Jean said, nodding. "You've earned your place here."
As the night went on, Luna moved closer to me, her hazel eyes bright with determination. "You said you're not good with mana control, right?"
I nodded reluctantly.
"Then I'll teach you," she said with a smile. "I promise. You'll be unstoppable."
Something in her voice-her sincerity-stirred a faint warmth within me, one I hadn't felt in years.
As the others began to drift off, I sat alone, starring at the dark blue sky. The faint echo of my grandfather's voice rang in my mind: "Live. And find something worth living for."
For the first time in years, I allowed myself a faint whisper of hope.
"Maybe I've found a new family, Gramps."