Chapter-37 Rhythm Of Hunger
The days melted into weeks, a steady rhythm of routine punctuated by growth, discovery, and the occasional moment of joy. Life in the Night Court demanded nothing less than constant progress. Frederique and Frideria, now closer than ever, adapted together to this strange new world.
Each day brought its share of challenges, and slowly, the girl who had once been timid and insecure began to forge herself anew, her hunger driving her to become more.
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Morning:
Frederique's mornings belonged to the Shadow Corp.
The training grounds lay beneath the Night Court's labyrinthine hallways, a vast stone chamber where echoes of shouts, clashes, and the hum of magic filled the air. The walls were rough, imbued with protective enchantments to withstand even the strongest attacks.
The captain, a Nocker known for his brutal honesty, wasted no time. His methods were as unconventional as they were effective.
"Again!" he barked as Frederique stumbled out of her defensive stance, sweat dripping from her brow. She grimaced but pushed herself back into position.
Each day began with sparring matches against other members of the Corp. Frederique's opponents changed daily, ensuring she faced a variety of styles.
Eirlys, the Sidhe warrior, favored ice constructs... sleek, elegant, and lethal. The chill of her conjured blades made Frederique's muscles ache with each impact, forcing her to rely on speed and timing over brute strength.
Vorn, the Troll, deceptively quick for his size, used cunning traps and swamp-based magic to corner her. She learned to stay light on her feet and never linger in one place too long.
The most challenging, though, was Kael, the corrupted Boggan. His molten, obsidian-like features were unnerving, and his raw power often left her breathless. Even so, Frederique found herself growing more confident, her movements sharper and more deliberate.
It was during these sessions that she truly began to master Dance of Mirrors.
At first, creating a single reflection was a monumental task. The illusion wavered like heat on asphalt, barely distinguishable from the real Frederique. But day by day, her focus improved. The first reflection grew more defined: the same sharp eyes, the same red-streaked hair, even the faint scars on her hands.
From there, she began to push herself further. A second reflection joined the first. Then a third. Each one moved in perfect synchronization, weaving and darting around the training ground as her opponents struggled to keep track of her real position.
"Impressive," Eirlys admitted grudgingly one day after failing to land a blow. The rare praise filled Frederique with a flicker of pride.
Frideria was there through it all, a silent presence guiding her instincts.
"Think like a predator," she urged during moments of doubt.
"Be faster. Smarter."
And Frederique listened.
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Afternoon:
After the physical demands of the morning, Frederique's afternoons were spent in Lysandro's library. The elegant Redcap, always impeccably dressed, greeted her with a smirk each day as she arrived.
"Ready to expand that lovely mind of yours, darling?" he teased, leading her to a quiet corner surrounded by shelves of ancient tomes.
The lessons were multifaceted, blending Fey politics, history, and the intricacies of Primal.
Frederique found herself fascinated by the complexities of the Night Court. The delicate balance of power, the subtle manipulations, and the unspoken rules that governed their society were far removed from the simplicity of the human world. Lysandro spoke in riddles as often as truths, forcing her to question everything she heard.
"Never take anything at face value, my dear," he advised one afternoon.
"Especially in our world. Lies are often sweeter than truth."
Her studies in Primal were equally challenging.
The first level, Willow Whisper, required her to connect with objects on a deeper level. She spent hours with her hands pressed against surfaces, listening for the faint echoes of memories. The creak of a chair revealed how often it had been sat on. The cool touch of a blade spoke of countless battles it had witnessed. Even the walls whispered their secrets if she listened closely enough.
It was slow work at first, frustrating in its subtlety. But over time, she began to hear more clearly.
One afternoon, as she traced the edge of an old wooden table, she murmured, "Tell me your story."
The table answered in faint whispers: the craftsmen who had shaped it, the hands that had polished it, the weight of countless objects placed upon its surface.
Frederique marveled at the simplicity and depth of it. Frideria, ever curious, encouraged her to push further.
"If they can speak, they can listen too,"
Frederique realized one day, the idea sparking in her mind like lightning. It was a revelation that would lead her to experiment even further.
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Evening:
Evenings brought a much-needed reprieve from the intensity of her training. These hours were often spent with Lira, who had become both a friend and a calming presence in Frederique's life.
Their shared apartment became a haven, filled with laughter and lighthearted mischief. Lira's wind magic occasionally caused minor chaos... papers fluttering across the room, candles flickering out... but her playful nature always kept things entertaining.
They cooked together, though "cooking" was often more of a scavenger hunt for edible ingredients in their fridge. Frederique was no longer self-conscious about eating. She and Frideria embraced their hunger, savoring every meal without guilt or hesitation.
One night, as they devoured a hastily prepared pasta dish, Lira leaned back in her chair with a grin.
"You're not the same girl who showed up here weeks ago," she remarked.
Frederique paused, her fork hovering mid-air.
"Good," she said simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.
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Night:
As the days passed, Frederique began to notice subtle changes in herself.
Her hair, once a dull brown, now glimmered with streaks of red that deepened with each passing week. Her eyes seemed brighter, sharper, and her posture more confident.
One evening, after Lira had gone to bed, Frederique stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at her reflection.
She traced the lines of her face, noting how her features seemed both familiar and foreign. Her cheeks had thinned slightly, her jawline more defined. The faint shadows under her eyes spoke of the exhaustion of her training, but her expression was one of quiet determination.
Frideria's voice echoed softly in her mind.
"You're becoming what they never expected you to be."
Frederique smiled.
"And what's that?"
"Unstoppable."
With that, she turned away from the mirror and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over her. She felt lighter, freer... like the chains of her past had finally begun to fall away.
The girl she had been was gone. What remained was something new, something stronger.
And she couldn't wait to see where the journey would take her next.