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That night, Emil lay awake staring at the rafters above his bunk. His mind replayed every word, every glance, every silence. Protector. Manipulator. Which was Kael? The whisper stirred, sliding close to his ear. *Does it matter? Both lead you to me.* Emil shut his eyes tight, fists clenched. But the words followed him into sleep. --- Morning drills should have been a comfort by now. Familiar patterns. The clash of wooden blades, the drumbeat of boots on stone, the bark of commands that rolled through the courtyard like thunder. The citadel trained its apprentices to breathe by these rhythms — to move until the body obeyed without thought. But Emil’s body betrayed him. His blade trembled a hair slower in its arc. His stance slid a fraction too far to the left. His shield lifted a he
- Writer
