The Measure of a Warrior

Varin moved like someone who had never second-guessed himself.

His blows weren't hurried, weren't panicked — they were measured, deliberate, simple.

The sort of movements that issued from years of knowing how much force it took to snuff out a life.

I scarcely parried the next of his assaults, my muscles whanging from the blow. His sword was heavier than mine, but he swung it as if it was weightless.

I stepped back, looking to get my footing.

I was losing.

Not just getting beat — I was being tested."

Varin did not seek my death. Not yet.

He was testing me.

And I already knew what conclusion he was reaching.

Not enough.

The Difference Between Us

A movement to my right, a flicker.

Varin turned—just barely.

That was his mistake.

Asura was as swift as sight, conceptually closing the distance in one stride. Her dagger gleamed, and Varin had to block for the first time.

Metal met metal.

Sparks flew.

The power of her strike forced him to skid back half a step, the toe of his boot dragging across the stone.

He got to his feet quickly enough and readjusted his stance, and the smirk still on his face—was different now.

He was no longer just measuring.

He was fixing a miscalculation.

He had believed she was just like another knight.

Now he knew better.

The Unreachable Wall

Varin gave a deep breath, loosening his shoulders. "I see."

His stance relocated, the weight lowering atop, blade sedated.

Now he was taking her seriously.

I had witnessed Asura fight before. But this was different.

She wasn't just fast.

She wasn't just strong.

She was untouchable.

Varin moved first.

A feint, then a real strike. Clean, precise — a move that would have killed anyone else.

But Asura was already gone.

Not avoiding—just not being present.

Without hesitation, she counterattacked. A quick, sharp step forward, a twist of the wrist—and then suddenly her blade was at his throat.

Varin froze.

It was the first time his expression changed.

Surprise.

Real, genuine disbelief.

Then—a smirk.

Not arrogance. Not amusement.

Acceptance.

"Oh, you're something else."

Asura didn't move. The dagger remained pressed lightly against his skin; her breathing was calm.

But she didn't strike.

Not yet.

Because she was still sizing him up, too.

And I knew by her unchanged expression — she knew she had won.

The Only Path Forward

Varin slowly lifted his hands, stepping back just enough for the blade to slip from his throat.

He wasn't afraid.

Not of death.

Not of us.

That was the thing that disturbed me most.

He took a deep breath and arranged his cloak. "You'll need more than this."

He wasn't referring to skill.

He was referring to something larger.

Something he had seen. Something we hadn't.

Asura stared at him, her face inscrutable.

Then—"Who trained you?"

The words hung in the air.

Varin's smirk returned. "The same ones that are going to be coming for you pretty soon."

A slow chill ran through me.

This wasn't just about him.

There were more.

More like him.

More like those who had wiped Aldric.

I gripped my blade tighter. "How many?"

Varin cocked his head just a little, sizing me up. Me, not Asura.

Then, at last — "More than you're ready for."

A Warning We Couldn't Ignore

He did not have much time after that.

He could have fought harder. He could have attempted to kill us."

But he hadn't.

Because this wasn't a battle.

It was a message.

A warning.

And I was like, UGH! It got in my throat.

Varin had tested us. He had tested me.

And he had found his answer.

I wasn't enough.

Not yet.

I glanced at Asura.

She hadn't moved. She was still watching the spot where Varin had vanished, fingers still clenched around her dagger.

She had known all along.

And for the first time since all this began, I finally got something right.

This wasn't just a fight.

This was a war.

And we were only beginning to see how the battlefield looked.

...

The fortress stood still, but it was not peace.

It was the kind of silence that arrived when the world was holding its breath — when everyone had a sensation of something arriving, but nobody wanted to be the first to say it.

I sat on the edge of my cot and stared at my hands.

My bruises from my fight with Varin were already starting to fade, but the weight of his words had not.

"More than you're ready for."

I clenched my fists.

It wasn't just a warning. It was a truth.

We weren't ready.

Not yet.

The Shift in the Order

Word of the fight had spread. Not through official channels — not in a way that could be traced — but through whispers, through the way the people moved, the way conversations froze when we walked into the room.

People knew.

Not about the enemy. Not about the war drawing closer.

But they sensed that something was amiss.

Asura was sitting across from me, sharpening her dagger, calm, and deliberate.

She hadn't talked about the fight.

Not about how easily she had dealt with Varin.

Not the way he had sized us up as if we were corpses in a morgue tags and all.

She didn't have to.

I knew precisely what she was thinking.

One fight wasn't a victory.

It was only the first step toward something far worse.

A Meeting with High Command

At noon, we were summoned by the high command of the knight order.

Not just us—all the recruits who had been there during the mission.

A stone-and-iron hall met us, with long wooden tables and high-backed chairs. The smell of parchment, ink, and blood filled the air, the weight of a decision not yet made.

At the head of the room, Commander Gregor's expression was unreadable.

His gaze settled on me first.

He knew.

Not everything. Not yet.

But he knew enough.

He sat forward in his seat, fingers interlaced. "Tell me precisely what occurred in the wreckage."

I willed my breath to remain steady.

Next to me, I could sense Asura, perfectly still and silent, and waiting.

Waiting for me to conclude how much to say.

Because this was not merely about filing a mission.

This was about whom we could trust and who we couldn't.

The Missing Pieces

I told them a version of the truth.

Not all of it.

Not about the well. Not about the thing that had watched us from the darkness.

But I talked about the village, the empty houses, the sense that something had been erased.

Commander Gregor let him finish.

When I finished, he sighed deeply.

That's when he said the next thing that made me freeze.

"You're not the first to tell me something like this."

The room went still.

I shared a glance with Asura.

She had already suspected.

But to hear its confirmation was something different altogether.

Gregor continued. "Knights have disappeared like this for years." Missions that ought to have been routine, locations that ought to have been empty." **

He leaned back slightly. "None of them returned."

I swallowed.

We were the first.

A Name That Carries Weight

I hesitated, then spoke. "Have you ever heard of Etros?"

There was an instant shift in the room.

Gregor's expression did not change. But I saw the flash of recognition, the clenching of his jaw.

A sharp intake of breath escaped one of the senior knights, a man with gray at his temples.

They knew.

I felt my pulse quicken. "Who was he?"

Gregor paused for a long moment.

Then — "No one you need worry about."

A dismissal. A wall.

But I had seen it now.

The fear beneath his words.

The Pieces Are Moving

We were dismissed soon after.

No consequences. No punishments.

But it had been a clear message.

They weren't going to arrest us.

But they also weren't going to help us.

I did a puff of breath as we exited back into the hall, my hands balled into fists. "They're not saying everything they know."

Asura did not reply right away.

Then—"Of course they do."

Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it.

Not anger.

Something colder.

Determination.

Because now, we weren't merely seeking the truth.

Now it was ours to decide what to do with it.

The Pieces Are Moving

We were dismissed soon after.

No consequences. No punishments.

But the message had been unambiguous.

They weren't going to get in our way.

But they weren't about to help us either."

I breathed out as we entered the corridor, my fingers balling into fists. "They have more information than they're telling."

Asura did not reply immediately.

Then—"Of course they do."

Her voice was low but had an edge to it.

Not anger.

Something colder.

Determination.

Because now, we weren't simply trying to unmask the truth.

Now we had to figure out what to do with it