When Seirath used his portal to lead me back into the empty training room, I was expecting spinning blades, collapsing platforms or something ridiculous with spikes. Instead, he handed me a skipping rope.
For a second, I just stared at it, then back at him.
"You've got to be joking."
But Seirath doesn't joke. He's got the sense of humor of a brick wall. Nefira was there, waiting like she had been carved into the corner of the room with her blindfold on. Seirath's words were blunt.
"Eight hours, twenty two minutes. You'll be skipping rope the entire time."
"Pardon me Lord Seirath, but why?"
"The speed training I can't explain, but the stealth I can. Nefira is an expert in both speed and stealth. She's blind but she senses movements through air flow. Your goal is to use Xana on yourself while jumping. If she can't detect you or the rope, you pass. If you don't complete this by the end of the month, you'll continue until you succeed up to the end of spring. If you stop, you start over. No exceptions."
Yeah, I understood right away why he tacked on those extra two hours and twenty-two minutes. This is going to be troublesome. Seirath didn't linger. He left without so much as a pat on the back or a smirk of encouragement. He vanished to his black portal, which left me alone with Nefira.
She held a stopwatch delicately between her fingers and turned her head towards me. Does she know how to use it? She's blind, isn't she?
"Begin."
So I began.
I spun the rope lazily at first, letting it slap the ground in soft taps as I hopped over it. My Xana wrapped around me like always, but since I wasn't channeling it into anything special, it felt like I was just… existing. This isn't so bad. Eight hours of jumping rope wasn't nearly as terrifying as lifting that boulder. But then I caught the way Nefira's lips curled slightly, like she already figured me out.
"You have found yourself a loophole."
Of course she figured it out
"Loophole? No, no. Your father didn't say how fast I had to go. I'm not about to turn into a blur for eight hours straight. I'm not that stupid."
A sharp scoff left her. "Coward."
I laughed because yeah, maybe she wasn't wrong.
"Call it cowardice. Either way, I'm not killing myself for no reason."
The rope kept swinging. The air moved softly with each turn and I knew she could sense every shift and tiny push my body made against the air currents.
She leaned back against the wall, her arms crossed, but I felt her attention like a dagger at my neck. Blind or not, she sensed everything. This wasn't just about stamina. This was about erasing myself.
Xana has always been… tricky. Right now, it was the only thing keeping me from looking like a complete idiot in front of her. I tried pressing it closer like pulling a cloak around myself.
The rope brushed the ground.
"You're heavy," Nefira said suddenly.
I almost tripped. "Excuse me?"
"On the air. Every swing, every hop, you're dragging it. You're loud and clumsy."
"Wow. Tell me how you really feel," I shot back, though my pride stung a little.
"If I can still hear you this clearly, you're failing."
I exhaled through my nose and refocused. Eight hours and twenty-two minutes. There was a whole three months of this if I didn't get it right. The rope blurred faintly as I shifted my grip, speeding just enough to force myself into a rhythm where my body began to fade into something… lighter.
It wasn't perfect. Not by a long shot. Every so often, she'd hum softly or tilt her chin just so, and I knew she still had me pinned.
By the second hour, I was already regretting every single life choice that had led me here. My calves were burning, my arms aching from swinging the rope and the only thing keeping me sane was the steady rhythm of the rope.
Then, as if fate wanted to mock me, the doors opened.
Servants came in carrying trays of food. Rich broths, roasted meats, fruit so fresh it glistened and bread still steaming was all I could see. I caught a whiff of it and my stomach twisted violently.
Nefira didn't move much. She just acknowledged the servants with a nod, her stopwatch never leaving her hand. She sat, crossed her legs elegantly, and began to eat. Judging by how she looked for the cutlery, she's actually blind.
Each time an hour passed, she would say it aloud. "Two hours." "Three hours." "Four," just so I'd know exactly how much of my life was being drained into this rope.
By the third hour, the smell was driving me insane. She had a bowl of stew, the steam curling upward like it was trying to seduce me personally. The scent of garlic and herbs hit me like a hammer.
"Can I… have some?"
She didn't even look up from her spoon. "No. Focus on your rope."
"You're evil."
"If evil means reminding you of discipline, then yes."
But she didn't stop there. She actually summoned air currents around the room so the scent of food wrapped around me like a cruel perfume. Every breath I took was roasted meat, buttery bread and savory broth. I stumbled on a skip, nearly clipping the rope on my toes.
"Stop that!"
"It's not my fault the air is intoxicated with food."
"That's exactly your fault!"
"Complain less. Focus more."
I wanted to throw the rope at her face but if I stopped even once, I'd start over. So I sighed, swallowed the saliva flooding my mouth, and focused.
My body screamed at me. My mind drifted in and out of anger, hunger and exhaustion. I didn't like relying on the martial arts of my past life. It always dragged up memories I preferred buried but I had no choice.
So I closed my eyes.
I pictured the patterns, the stances and the breathing methods I once hated but knew better than anything. Each swing of the rope, each hop of my feet became mechanical.
The food smells faded not because Nefira stopped her little torture, but because I blocked them out. My focus narrowed to a single point.
And then something shifted.
Xana stirred in me differently this time. Usually it hummed like background noise but now, I felt it slipping around me like a second skin.
Ah.
Stealth wasn't just about crouching in shadows or walking without sound. It was about existing while hidden and remaining invisible while still moving. Occultare is to conceal oneself with Xana, even in activity.
That was why the rope, the movement and the sheer monotony was used.
I was learning to erase myself while still being there.
My muscles screamed, my lungs burned but I couldn't stop. Hours blurred together. I counted in my head, lost track, picked it up again. Nefira's occasional interjections were the only tether to reality.
"Nine hours."
I snapped my eyes open. I was still skipping. I blinked and saw that the arena outside was dark. Nightfall had crept in without me realizing. The rope slowed down as I let myself stop. My legs felt like they were made of sand. I bent over, panting, hands on my knees with sweat dripping in the floor.
And then I froze.
Nefira wasn't wearing her blindfold anymore. Her almond eyes were looking directly at me.
"Wait. You can see?"
She sighed, exasperated, like I just asked the dumbest question in the world. Without answering, she stood, collected her things, and headed for the door. At the threshold, she paused.
"You should rest. Tomorrow will not be easier."
She was gone.
I stood there, rope dangling limply in my hands, staring after her.
So… she wasn't blind? Or she was, and sometimes she wasn't? Was it all just some elaborate act? I dropped onto the ground, staring at the ceiling.
"Nefira, what the hell are you?"
And for the first time, I wasn't sure if I was more tired from the training or from trying to figure her out.