Eghosa woke to the faint hum of med-nanites dissolving under her skin.
For a moment it was Warm.
Then cold.
Then nothing.
Her bones were already mended — each crack sealed by microscopic hands. The pain that had once drowned her was gone, replaced by an eerie lightness that didn't feel like healing… but rebirth.
She opened her eyes slowly, the steri-glass ceiling blurring into shape.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Theran's voice echoed in her skull like a ghost:
"When I move, I will move to break you."
The darkness.
The flickering lights.
The explosion.
Her blade in her hand.
The intent — cold, instinctive — to kill.
Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled against the bed sheet.
She wasn't supposed to feel this way.
She wasn't supposed to want that.
But she had.
And the worst part?
She didn't regret it.
---
A whisper came from the side.
"…Eghosa?"
It was Trisha — sitting on the edge of her own bed, hair messy, cheeks bruised, a bandage across her neck even though her wounds were already healed. The med-drones had repaired the damage, but nothing could erase the memory of being hit hard enough to black out.
Eghosa managed a small smile. "You're awake."
Trisha didn't smile back.
She stared for a long moment before admitting, voice tight:
"I thought he killed you."
Eghosa blinked. The words cut something deep.
Trisha looked down at her hands, fingers trembling slightly.
"I watched you fly across the arena. Your body wasn't moving. I—"
She shook her head, jaw clenched. "I don't get scared easily. But that… that scared me."
Silence.
Heavy, real, raw.
For the first time since the dome, Eghosa felt her throat tighten — not from fear, but from gratitude.
"…You're still here," she whispered.
Trisha snorted and wiped her eyes quickly like she wasn't doing anything emotional.
"Shut up. If you die, who am I supposed to drag around and insult?"
Despite everything, Eghosa laughed softly. It hurt in places she thought had already healed.
---
The door slid open.
Theran Solace walked in.
Bandages covered his shoulder — the place where Eghosa's explosion had punched through him. Med-nanites glittered faintly under the wrappings, pulsing like fireflies trapped in skin.
He looked almost… proud of the wound.
Trisha stiffened instantly. "You— don't come near her."
Theran ignored her.
His crimson eyes locked on Eghosa first, sweeping over her like he was cataloguing every inch of her recovery.
"You're alive," he said simply.
"You sound disappointed," Eghosa murmured.
A grin flickered across his lips — sharp and amused.
"If I were disappointed, you'd still be lying in the dome."
Trisha launched a pillow at him.
Theran caught it with one hand, without even looking.
"Sit down," she snapped. "Or I'll stab that other shoulder."
"Try, you look more beautiful when angry" he replied calmly.
Eghosa had to intervene before they killed each other.
"Theran," she said, voice steadying, "Why did you push that far?"
He approached the foot of her bed, folding his arms.
"You wanted combat," he said. "Not pretend. Not academy drills. Actual combat."
This is what it looks like
He paused.
"And you fought like it."
For a moment, Eghosa thought he might stop there.
But he didn't.
"You broke the tank," he continued. "Calculated the blast. Timed it. You aimed for the head."
His eyes sharpened.
"That was not a student's move. That was a predator's decision."
Eghosa swallowed.
Trisha's eyes widened, shifting between them.
What exactly had happened when she was unconscious
Theran's voice dropped quieter, more serious:
"That's why I trained you. Not because you were talented. Not because you were chosen by the UNE. But because…"
He looked at her with something she couldn't name.
"…you're capable of changing, learning, adapting, growing."
Eghosa stared at him, heart thudding.
He turned away next — for the first time since entering. His voice hardened.
"But don't celebrate."
"You hesitated before the explosion. You questioned yourself. That hesitation will kill you in the Academy."
Then he faced her again.
"And don't forget: I survived because I was ready to give up my shoulder, because I knew what to sacrifice my head or my shoulder, sometimes strength lies in knowing something must be sacrificed."
He tapped the bandage.
"What would you sacrifice to ensure victory?"
Eghosa didn't answer.
Because she didn't know.
---
Before leaving, he paused at the doorway — his silhouette cast long by the sterile lights.
"Listen well, Eghosa," he said.
His tone shifted — not cruel, not mocking, but something older. A warning carved from experience.
"The Empire Royal Academy will break you if you go there still wanting to be as you are."
His crimson eyes met hers one final time.
"Decide what you want to be… before they decide for you."
Then he was gone.
---
The room felt heavier after he left.
Trisha looked at Eghosa.
"What are you thinking?"
Eghosa didn't answer right away.
She sat up slowly, touched her healed ribs, and stared at her hands — hands that had tried to kill someone.
Hands that didn't shake anymore.
"…I'm thinking," she whispered,
"…that I'm not who I was."
Trisha frowned. "In a bad way?"
Eghosa shook her head.
"In a real way."
---
Later that night, long after Trisha fell asleep and the nurses dimmed the lights, Eghosa quietly left the med-bay.
She stepped outside into the cold night air.
No crowds.
No instructors.
No Theran.
Just the old dome in the far distance, illuminated faintly by moonlight.
She approached slowly until she stood before the cracked wall — the one her explosion had torn open.
The wind brushed past her skin.
The stars reflected faintly in the broken glass.
Her shadow stretched long and thin across the ground.
She looked at her reflection in the shattered surface.
Not the girl who came to the academy.
Not the girl who fought in the UNE trials.
Not the girl who tried to save everyone.
Someone else.
Someone sharper.
Quieter.
More dangerous.
She exhaled, breath cold in the night.
"...I am not prey."
The wind carried her words into the darkness.
And the darkness, for once, didn't argue.
It simply waited.