Later, during a rare free hour, Elara sought refuge in the makeshift library. The dim, dusty room—once a cramped storage space—was lined with worn textbooks and dog-eared novels. She traced the spines of unfamiliar titles, letting her mind wander through other lives for a moment.
A hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to see Sergeant Thorne, his expression unusually softened.
"Miller. A moment?" he said quietly.
She tensed. "Yes, Sergeant?"
"You've been performing well. Beyond expectations, actually." He scanned the shelves as if the words were difficult to say. "You got a history?"
Elara kept her tone even. "Self-study, Sergeant. A varied educational background."The lie she had practiced a hundred times.
Thorne nodded slowly. "Right. Well, you've got a knack for tactics. And a certain detachment. Out here, that saves lives." He shifted his weight, then added, "We're running a special training exercise next month. Reconnaissance. Only selects. Interested?"
The word hit her like an electric current. Reconnaissance—dangerous, elite, requiring stealth and iron nerves. Everything she had always craved, even before she had known the name for it.
"Yes, Sergeant," she said. "Very interested."
He gave a faint nod and left her standing among the shadows and books.
The invitation buzzed beneath her skin. She found Anya on the training field, practicing knife throws.
"Thorne asked me to join the special recon unit," Elara said, breathless with excitement.
Anya's knife hit dead center. She retrieved it with a slow smile. "See? I told you you were chasing something. Now you've almost caught it."
"It feels… right," Elara admitted.
"Just remember," Anya said, wiping the blade clean, "out there, there's no safety net. Only you, the mission, and the person next to you."
As night fell, Elara lay on her bunk, her dog tags cool in her hand. She pulled out the small, creased photo of Lyra—the familiar smile, the familiar ache. A life she had lost, or perhaps willingly left behind.
Tomorrow, training would intensify. Tomorrow, she would push further, learn more, become more. Her invisibility, once a curse, was becoming a weapon. And for the first time, Elara felt ready—not just to survive the world beyond the St. Clair manor, but to face it head-on.
She wasn't just forging new strength.
She was claiming herself.