Chapter 19: Ashes And Resolve

Aaron woke up with a sharp gasp, his body aching from the previous day's events. His limbs felt like lead, every muscle sore, his mind foggy with exhaustion.

For a brief moment, he thought he could steal a few extra minutes of rest. But just as he closed his eyes—

Burning pain exploded through his body.

It was as if molten fire surged through his veins, igniting every nerve at once. He gritted his teeth, his back arching involuntarily as his fingers clenched against the sheets. A sharp, familiar glow flickered in his vision.

A system message.

> Failure to comply with Mandatory Training Protocol will result in extreme pain.

Resistance is futile. Adaptation is necessary.

Aaron let out a ragged breath. So this was it. No choice, no room for negotiation. Either he got up and trained—or he suffered.

Just as the pain subsided, the door to his room swung open.

Hydra stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her piercing gaze scanning him.

Aaron let out an irritated groan. "Am I not even allowed privacy?"

Hydra raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Privacy? As long as you're in the Sky Weaver's lair, you're entitled to nothing. This isn't a vacation, and it sure as hell isn't a leisurely health walk. You either keep up or get left behind."

Aaron scowled but said nothing.

Hydra tilted her head slightly, studying him. "I'm surprised you're already awake, given the early hour. But it saves me the trouble of dragging you out of bed. You have five minutes to get ready and meet me outside. Don't be late."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode off.

Aaron exhaled slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Five minutes. Great.

The Training Hall

When Aaron joined Hydra, she led him down a long corridor before stopping in front of a massive door. With a simple push, it swung open, revealing an immense underground chamber carved entirely for training. The air was thick with the scent of stone and sweat, the faint echoes of past sessions lingering in the vast space.

Aaron's eyes widened. "This place is…"

"Built for warriors," Hydra said flatly. "Which you are not. Not yet."

His gaze swept across the chamber, taking in the various stations meant for combat, endurance, and agility drills. Then, his eyes landed on a familiar figure.

Era.

Despite everything—the loss of her arm, the pain she had endured—she was already training. Aaron can't believe it, and maybe Hydra does, even if she doesn't show it. Sweat clung to her brow as she pushed through a set of rigorous exercises, her movements slightly off-balance as she struggled to adjust to fighting with only one arm.

A weaver guided Aaron to a changing room, handing him a set of training gear. He changed quickly, the fabric light but durable, before heading back out.

As soon as he returned, his own training began. The exercises were brutal, designed to push him past his limits. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep up, but his gaze kept flicking toward Era from time to time.

She never stopped. Never faltered. Even though it was clear she was struggling, she refused to give in. Her breath was heavy, her stance unsteady, but she kept pushing through, adjusting, adapting.

Aaron clenched his fists, refocusing on his own drills.

The hours dragged on, sweat dripping down his back as his muscles burned from the relentless pace. It wasn't until Hydra finally called for a break that he allowed himself to breathe.

And that's when he made his decision.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and walked toward Era.

She was sitting on a bench, catching her breath, her expression unreadable. Up close, he could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the quiet frustration at having to relearn everything with just one arm.

Aaron hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

"…Era."

She didn't look at him.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry. For your arm."

She tensed slightly, but still said nothing.

Aaron exhaled, his voice lowering. "If I had been stronger, I could've protected you. You wouldn't have—"

"Stop."

Era finally turned to face him, her gaze sharp. "Don't waste your breath on apologies. What's done is done."

Aaron's throat tightened. He hesitated before speaking again. "For everything you went through because of me… I know I have no right to ask anything from you, but I need answers."

She stared at him for a long moment.

Then, quietly, he asked, "Why did you testify against me during the trial?"

Silence.

Era's jaw clenched, her good hand forming a fist. Then, after what felt like forever, she finally spoke.

"Things are more complicated than you think." Her voice was quieter now, but there was something heavy beneath the surface. "My family hates you, Aaron. And they won't stop until they take that ring from you."

Aaron felt a chill creep down his spine.

Era's eyes darkened. "The burns from the ring? They're nothing compared to what they want to do to you."

A cold shiver ran through him.

Hydra's voice sliced through the tension like a blade. "That's enough talk." She gestured toward the center of the chamber. "Break's over. Back to training."

Aaron exhaled slowly, his fists tightening at his sides.

No more hesitating. No more running.

As Era turned to walk away, Aaron stepped forward, instinctively reaching out. His fingers brushed against her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

She didn't turn around, but he spoke anyway, his voice firm.

"If I'm training to become stronger, it's not for me." His grip briefly tightened, his next words carrying a quiet intensity. "Believe me, it's for you. And if something like that ever happens again… I swear, I'll be strong enough to protect you."

His words hung in the air, final and unshakable.

Era didn't respond right away. For a moment, Aaron thought she might just walk away without a word.

But then—without turning—she murmured, "Then stop talking and prove it."

And with that, she kept walking, leaving Aaron standing there.