chapter 19

They stood across from each other, both breathing hard.

Veyra's blade arm bled—just a thin line down her gauntlet, but blood all the same. It sizzled on the hot stone beneath her feet, each drop a slow-burning ember. The glaive-haft in Kael's hand had split down the middle, but it still pulsed with residual loyalty.

Kael's ribs ached. His shoulder was half-numb from the last hit, and his left hand barely responded. But he stood upright, staring her down.

Veyra didn't charge again.

Instead, she turned her blade downward and drove it into the stone. It hissed as it sank in halfway, locking in place like a judge's gavel.

Kael raised an eyebrow. "What, no dramatic finish?"

She exhaled sharply. "I don't waste killing strikes on men who don't flinch."

Kael tapped the glaive-haft against the floor. "I'm touched."

Veyra stepped forward. Her eyes no longer burned with aggression—they watched him the way a hunter watches another predator in new territory.

She circled him slowly.."

Veyra stopped in front of him. "That thing inside you—the Core. You're not in control."

"I'm not out of it either."

"I want access."

Kael blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I want to study it. Watch what it does to you. How you bend with it. How much before you break." Her voice was steady, not cruel. Just… interested.

Kael didn't answer.

The Knife pulsed lightly against his hip. "Do not agree. Risk unacceptable."

He met Veyra's gaze. "No."

The corner of her mouth curled.

"I expected that."

She turned back to her blade, yanked it from the floor with one smooth motion, and slung it over her shoulder.

"Then we do it my way," she said. "I teach you war. Not trials. Not matches. War. And if the Core tears you apart, I'll be there to bury the pieces. But if you survive…"

She paused at the edge of the circle.

"…you might make them remember what fear tastes like."

Kael tilted his head. "This a recruitment speech?"

"No," she said.

"It's a warning."