When I stepped out of Seirath's portal, the training arena was just as empty and silent as always but there was one thing that wasn't the same this time. Nefira was there, sitting lazily on one of the benches at the far side of the room, yawning like she had just woken up from a long nap, which she did.
The moment I entered, though, her body language changed. She tilted her head, almost like a wolf sniffing out a trail. Her blindfold twitched against her skin. Her jaw slackened just slightly.
"You're here? How fast did you finish the training?"
I smirked, wiping sweat off my forehead. My heart was still thundering from the dune run, but the triumph hadn't cooled yet.
"Ten minutes and twenty seconds."
For the first time since I met her, she froze completely. Not even her lips moved.
"You must be joking."
"Nope. Straight climb, full lift, full sprint and the boulder smashed to pieces. I counted."
Nefira scoffed and crossed her arms, but I could feel it. She was rattled. She sat down again, but this time she was serious.
"Then begin. Show me."
I walked toward the center of the arena but instead of reaching for the normal skipping rope, I bent down and picked up the thick, coarse rope I had been using to drag the boulder across the dunes.
"Why are you using that thing? It's not meant for finesse."
I rolled the heavy coil between my fingers and grinned. "I'm trying something new. Besides, it's not just a rope to me anymore."
She tilted her head and I knew she was already sensing the truth behind it. Seirath had been right. Every time I tied this rope around my waist, it was heavier. Now, it was dense and heavy but not as troublesome as before. I looped it into a circle, gripped both ends, and took a long, steadying breath. My lungs burned with fire from the desert run, but my mind was clear.
The rope sang through the air. Except… it didn't.
My eyes widened instantly. There was no swish, no friction or drag. The rope smacked the ground but there was no sound, not even the dull thud of contact. My ears strained for anything, but silence drowned the space.
I blinked and skipped again faster this time. Still nothing. It was as if the rope and I were ghosts. I pushed harder. The rope cut arcs so quick they blurred into nothing, but the arena remained perfectly still. There was no whoosh of air or scuff on the floor. Just silence.
My Xana wasn't cloaking just my body. It had extended into the rope. It was flowing into the fibers, weaving stealth into every strand until it was invisible to the senses.
And then I noticed Nefira.
Even with her blindfold, her head was angled sharply toward me. Her lips were slightly parted. For the first time, she couldn't track me.
That was my cue.
I slowed the rhythm, loosened my grip and in the same heartbeat, vanished from her perception. The rope fell limp against the floor without a sound. By the time she registered it, I was already behind her.
The arena's silence cracked with her sharp intake of breath when my strings brushed lightly against her neck.
I leaned close and whispered.
"So… did I pass?"
Her blindfold tilted as she whipped her head slightly, disbelief painted all over her face.
"How…"
I opened my mouth to explain but then she snapped.
"HOW?!"
I froze. Nefira stood up so abruptly her bench clattered backward. Her hands were clenched into fists so tight the air itself trembled around her.
"It took me three and a half years to pass that rope trial! Three and a half years of bleeding hands, of sleepless nights, of grinding my soul into dust and you... you do it in a week since the progress began to show fruit?! A WEEK?!"
I felt sweat roll down my temples. I let the silence drag for a second before sighing.
"I just trained. That's all."
She barked out a laugh that was more venom than humor. Even though it was Phasnovterich who did this, I said it.
"Also, I've been training as an assassin since I was a kid in the Argemenes. Your family isn't the only one which starts training at childhood. Combat, stealth, speed, all of it. My body remembers it even when I don't want it to. It's not like this came out of nowhere."
But she didn't hear me. Her shoulders trembled. And then, without another word, she shoved the small metal stopwatch into my chest hard enough to sting.
"You passed," she spat, and stormed out, her boots hammering the arena floor. The doors slammed behind her.
I exhaled and finally glanced down at the stopwatch. The display blinked.
0.7 seconds.
My stomach dropped. My throat went dry.
"You've gotta be kidding me."
0.7 seconds. That's how long it takes for me to use Occultare. Yeah, I understand why she would be mad too because what the fuck?