I had no idea why everything hurt so much. My limbs ached, and my heart felt like a dagger had slammed into it. Lumi had gone quiet. For a hot flash he tried to help, like he did with the blood curse, but nothing he did made a difference.

  I knew I wasn’t on the ground for long, but it felt like a lifetime. The emotions bled together, raw and unfiltered. When they finally dissipated, I looked up into the awaiting black eyes of the statue.

  No reaction. No empathy.

  I looked down at the sword in my hand. The spatha looked like it had aged in that moment. The shield too looked rusted, and the wood seemed brittle beneath my grip.

  “The blowback is inevitable,” said the statue.

  I looked up.

  “With this power growing inside you, both of these curses are now fighting for dominance,” he said.

  I glanced down at my arm and watched the scars there. They pulsed dimly. Nowhere near as angry without Lumi, but still alive.

  “Do you understand what it is that infects you?”

  I did not answer straight away. I had seen how that power was used in this very room. I looked at the tattoo on his shoulder, then at Lumi. A faint idea formed of who this statue resembled.

  In the memories, I had seen the daggers of blood drawn. An ugly wrongness twisted in my gut each time they struck. I hated them, and I feared them. Yet I had also seen them crack.

  “The sword can break it,” I said at last. “From its source.”

  The statue nodded.

  “You are the only one who can cut it.”

  A steady warmth spread through me. It did not remove the pain lingering in my chest, but it steadied it. Determination.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  “Good. You have found the will within. Once you cut the thread, you will be ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  He gave no answer.

  The statue stepped back into its original position, hands and arms raised as before. The weight of everything I had taken, physical and emotional, made the room feel hollow around me. I pushed myself upright, steadied my footing, and stepped forward. Then I placed the sword and shield back where I had taken them from.

  It didn’t feel right to take them with me. Whatever power they held, I doubted it would linger through the door.

  I looked up at the statue’s face once more. He had given me only what I needed to move forward. Nothing more. This judgment had not ended the way I expected, but it had shown me what mattered.

  I stepped back.

  At least I had one thing. The threads of weapons. That strange feeling of tapping into memories. Whatever I had drawn from the sword and shield had been fleeting. The expertise and skill I gained lasted only a short time, and only while I held the weapon, a direct link to its soul.

  I let out a strained chuckle. The idea felt impossible, yet I had felt it.

  I left the circular room behind and followed the sound of my own footsteps through the dark. The torch had long since burned out. Only a thin line of moonlight cut through a crack in the roof far behind me, barely touching the floor.

  Lumi stayed silent. No hum. No presence pressing at the edge of my thoughts. He had withdrawn, siphoning the blood curse without a word.

  The door opened freely with the sword, and I stepped into the training hall. Doyle was nowhere in sight.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  The core runes lit the moment I crossed the threshold. A steady tingling spread through my limbs, sealing fresh cuts and feeding strength back into my muscles. I kept walking, barely noticing the quiet around me. My thoughts stayed fixed on the soul curse and the blowback, the ache that had reached deeper than I thought it could.

  Hunger tightened in my stomach. The ache in my chest lingered, so I headed for the kitchen.

  As I stepped through the doorway, a small noise came from inside.

  My eyes settled on a slim back framed by long dark hair. She wasn’t dressed for court. Form-fitting leather traced her frame, layered with deep green cloth that moved cleanly with her body. The cut hugged her waist and shoulders without excess, built for movement, not show. A new bow rested over her shoulder, polished and balanced. A small green gem was set into the riser, catching what little light there was.

  “Hey,” I said. My voice shook.

  She spun around. Her eyes widened and a sharp breath caught in her throat.

  “Sean.”

  She crossed the room in a few quick steps and threw her arms around me.

  I went rigid. I had not expected that. Of all the ways she could have reacted, this was the last one I imagined.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, then lifted my arms and returned the awkward hug.

  She held me tighter for a brief span then pulled back.

  Her glistening eyes searched my face. For a moment, she had forgotten herself.

  She cleared her throat and glanced toward the door, then back at me.

  “Ah, sorry,” she said softly, holding her voice steady.

  That was when I noticed it.

  The battle outfit was fine, clearly bought with her father’s wealth, but the fabric near the neckline had been torn. The folds that closed the top hung uneven, a jagged rip cutting through them. Someone had grabbed at her and failed to finish the job.

  Above her brow, just beneath the line of her hair, a cut had only just stopped bleeding.

  “What happened?” The words came out sharp. “Are you okay? Who did this?”

  She pulled back from me. “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I got knocked around a bit, but my brother…”

  My stomach dropped. As first impressions go, neither of us had started well, but we had moved past that, and I had come to respect him. The thought of him hurt did not sit well at all.

  “What happened to Calum?” I asked, forcing the words out slower.

  She looked at me for a moment, something unreadable in her eyes. Then she swallowed, drew a steady breath, and prepared herself to answer.

  “We began our trials right after the barracks ones.”

  A chill ran down my spine.

  “Is he…?”

  “He’s alive,” she said. “But there’s something wrong with him.” She searched my face. “Do you know anything?”

  “How would I know?” I asked carefully.

  Her control slipped for a second. She drew it back in, swallowed, then took my hand and pulled me from the kitchen. We climbed the stairs quickly. She did not slow as we crossed the landing and stepped into her room.

  Doyle sat beside the bed. A sheet had been pulled tight over the form beneath it.

  I stepped closer. Celeste covered her mouth.

  I had lived with pain my entire life. The shock from the weapons had nearly torn me apart.

  Calum lay still, his face rigid, eyes fixed on the ceiling without blinking. He was alive, but only just. The sight of him stopped me cold. Scars marked his skin, the same jagged lines I had lived with for as long as I could remember.

  I stepped back as if burned.

  I reached for Lumi in my thoughts. Can you help him?

  Silence. He remained withdrawn, still reeling from what had happened below.

  My jaw tightened. I turned to Celeste.

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  She trembled, fighting the sob that threatened to break through. Doyle stood at the bedside, his expression hard. He watched us both but said nothing.

  “We were fighting in the nobles’ trials,” she began. “They set ours up differently. It was supposed to be simple sparring. Two against two. More like a friendly match,” she swallowed. “The two nobles we fought… they didn’t seem to get along.”

  “Do you remember their names?” I asked.

  She nodded. “One was a black-haired kid from the Vortigern family. The other…” She met my eyes. “It was Nick.”

  The way she said it told me she knew I recognized the name. My jaw tightened.

  “And then what happened?”

  She flinched. “At first, it went well.” She adjusted the bow over her shoulder. “If it weren’t for this, we would have been overwhelmed from the start. We managed to push them back, but only for a few moments.”

  She drew in a breath and forced herself to continue.

  “I was focused on my fight when everything changed. Calum started to convulse. The crowd began to scream. The medics pulled me away before I could reach him.”

  I looked down at Calum. His eyes stared at the ceiling, empty.

  “How did you get him back here?” I asked.

  “Jerald,” she said. “He took him, brought him to Doyle. Then he went back into the city. Said something big is happening. Father was furious.”

  I nodded.

  “Has he said anything?” I asked. He seemed awake but not reactive.

  Celeste shook her head.

  Doyle cleared his throat. “I think we should let these two get some rest.”

  “But—” Celeste began.

  “You’ve taken a few hits yourself,” Doyle said. “You’ll need rest for your trial tomorrow.”

  The colour drained from her face.

  “You too, Sean.”

  I let out a breath and watched Doyle press one of his bitter potions into Celeste’s hand.

  I left them and headed toward my room. I glanced into the others as I passed. Both stood empty. Rob and Amelia had not returned, likely still planning with their new teams.

  I rubbed a hand over my face. Let’s hope tomorrow doesn’t end badly.

  Inside my room, I crossed to the washroom and stopped at the mirror.

  “Oh… bloody hell,” I muttered, staring at my reflection.

  With Lumi withdrawn and my thoughts scattered, I had made one careless mistake.

  I had not changed my face.