Training Starts Now

Chapter 18

The morning light had barely touched the sky when Evelyn and Marcus were summoned. After a restless night in the Council's headquarters, they were awoken by Seraphine's knock, her voice echoing through the narrow hallway outside their rooms. Both were still shaken by the events of the previous night—the chilling whispers, the deal with Zorin, and the looming threat of the wraiths tracking them down.

Evelyn sat up, rubbing her eyes as she glanced out the small, high window in her room. The faint glow of dawn was visible against the towering buildings of Grimvale. Her body ached from exhaustion, and the weight of the coin in her pocket was a constant reminder of the danger they faced.

"They're ready for you," Seraphine had said, her face unreadable as usual.

Minutes later, Evelyn and Marcus found themselves in a dim, stone-walled room deep within the Council's headquarters. A table was laid out in front of them, neatly arranged with dark uniforms. The fabric looked sturdy, built for movement and endurance, with silver thread woven through in intricate patterns.

Seraphine motioned to the uniforms. "These will be your training outfits. The Council spares no expense in preparing those who are... connected to forces like yours." Her eyes briefly flickered toward the coin still tucked into Evelyn's jacket.

Evelyn stepped closer to the table, brushing her fingers over the fabric. It was lighter than she expected, but something about the intricate stitching made her uneasy. There was a faint shimmer to the thread, as if the silver lines pulsed with a hidden energy. She picked up one of the uniforms, eyeing the silver accents.

Marcus reached for his own uniform, holding it up to examine. "What's this made of?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Seraphine offered a small, enigmatic smile. "It's reinforced with protective wards, designed to help dampen magical interference. Let's just say it's not from a typical tailor." Her tone suggested that more was hidden beneath the surface, but she didn't elaborate.

They quickly changed, the new clothes fitting snugly against their skin.

Evelyn ran a hand over the smooth fabric of the new clothes as they entered the training hall.

A mirror by the door caught her eye. She took a quick glance at herself—a tall woman with deep brown skin and striking blue eyes. The uniform fit snugly, the silver lines reflecting just enough light to make her feel a bit more confident. She brushed a curl away from her face and looked over at Marcus.

He was adjusting his sleeves, getting used to the fit. The uniform suited him, too—simple and neat, fitting his slim frame. His usual calm expression was there, but she could see a hint of tension in the way he moved. He flexed his fingers as if testing the clothes, preparing himself for whatever was coming next.

Seraphine's voice pulled them back to the task at hand. "It's time," she said, leading them to the center of the room.

The large training room was silent except for the creak of the wooden floor beneath their boots. Weapons of all kinds hung on the walls—swords, staffs, and tools Evelyn couldn't even name. At the far end of the room, a man stood waiting for them. He was tall, his gray hair pulled back into a knot, and his face lined with years of experience. His sharp eyes tracked their every move as they approached.

"This is Master Kal," Seraphine said, stepping aside. "He'll be your trainer."

Kal's gaze swept over them, sizing them up. "You've survived this long," he said, his voice low and firm. "That's good. But surviving doesn't mean you're ready. You're not fighters—not yet."

Evelyn and Marcus exchanged a glance. There was no arguing with Kal's assessment.

Kal motioned toward the weapons lined up on the wall. "Pick your weapon," he said. "But understand, these aren't ordinary tools. They're forged specifically for what we face here. Guns won't help you against the kinds of creatures we're up against. Bullets pass right through wraiths, and demons laugh at steel unless it's enchanted."

Evelyn hesitated, her hand hovering over the staff. "Enchanted? How?"

Kal gave her a hard look, his hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. "Every weapon you see here was crafted with runes, wards, or substances that affect dark forces. That staff you're holding? It's laced with protective charms, designed to disrupt any dark magic that gets too close. This isn't about brute force. It's about wielding the right tool for the job."

Marcus picked up a sword, running his fingers along the blade. There were faint markings along the edge—runes he didn't recognize. "So this is all magic?"

"Magic and skill," Kal corrected, stepping forward. "These weapons have power, but they won't save you if you don't know how to use them. You'll learn to fight with these as extensions of yourself. Trust the weapon, and it'll protect you. Use it wrong, and you'll end up dead."

Evelyn tightened her grip on the staff, feeling a subtle pulse of energy from the wood. This was more than just a stick to swing—it was a tool with purpose, built to face things far darker than any criminal she had ever chased.

Kal frowned as he watched Marcus. "That's your first time holding a sword, isn't it?"

Marcus nodded. "Yeah."

Kal let out a short grunt. "Then we're starting from the ground up."

He stepped forward, positioning himself in front of Marcus. "First lesson: stance." Kal nudged Marcus's feet into position with the tip of his boot. "Keep your knees slightly bent, feet apart. You need balance, or that sword will get you killed before you even lift it."

Marcus adjusted his feet, trying to mirror Kal's stance. Kal nodded, though his eyes were still critical. "Better. Now, grip the sword properly." He reached out, adjusting Marcus's hands on the hilt. "Firm, but don't squeeze too tight. Let the sword move with you."

Evelyn watched quietly, absorbing the information. Kal was clearly experienced, his movements precise and fluid. He wasn't just showing them how to fight—he was teaching them how to survive.

"Alright," Kal said, stepping back. "Now, swing."

Marcus hesitated before giving the sword a clumsy swing. The blade wobbled in the air, and his stance faltered.

Kal shook his head. "Too stiff. You're fighting the sword. Let it move. Again."

Marcus tried again, this time loosening his grip and allowing the sword to flow more naturally. It wasn't perfect, but Kal gave a slight nod of approval.

"Good. You'll get there." Kal turned to Evelyn, gesturing to her staff. "And you. Show me how you hold that."

Evelyn raised the staff, gripping it in the middle, trying to remember what little self-defense training she'd had back in her detective days. Kal stepped closer, tapping the end of the staff with his own blade.

"Hands too close together," he said. "Spread them out, give yourself more control. The staff should be an extension of your body."

She adjusted her grip, feeling the weight of the staff shift. It felt more balanced now, easier to control. Kal circled around her, watching her stance.

"Not bad," he muttered. "But don't think too much. Trust your body to react."

Without warning, he swung his blade toward her. Instinctively, Evelyn blocked it with the staff, though the impact jarred her arms. Kal's eyes gleamed with approval.

"Good reflexes," he said. "But you'll need more than that."

For the next hour, Kal took them through the basics—how to hold their weapons, how to stand, how to block and strike. His instructions were clear, though his tone was gruff, and he didn't hesitate to point out every mistake.

Marcus struggled more, his movements awkward and unsure, but Kal was patient, correcting his form and showing him how to move with the sword instead of against it. Evelyn picked things up a little faster, her instincts as a detective helping her stay alert and quick on her feet.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Kal stepped back, lowering his blade. "That's enough for today," he said, his voice rough but not unkind. "You've got the basics. Now it's time to build on them."

Evelyn and Marcus both stood, breathing heavily, their bodies aching from the effort. Kal's eyes swept over them, his expression unreadable.

"Rest while you can," he said, turning to leave. "Tomorrow, we begin again. And it only gets harder from here."

Seraphine gave them a small nod. "You did well for your first day," she said quietly. "But he's right. This is just the start."

Evelyn wiped the sweat from her brow, leaning on the staff for support. Marcus, still holding his sword, glanced at her with a tired smile. "That wasn't so bad," he said, though his voice was strained.

Evelyn let out a dry laugh. "You barely survived Kal's footwork lesson."

Marcus shrugged, chuckling softly. "Guess I'll be practicing that tonight."

As they left the training room, the weight of what was to come pressed down on them. But for now, they had taken the first step.