The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the dorm room, casting pale streaks over the quiet rows of beds. The air smelled faintly of wood polish and fresh linen. Liora lay on her side, her silver hair spilling over the pillow, her eyes half-open but unfocused — lost somewhere between memory and dream.
The door creaked open.
"Morning, kids."
The voice was calm yet carried an unmistakable authority. A woman — older, tall, built like someone carved from experience — stood at the doorway. Her hair was streaked with gray and tied back in a tight braid, her uniform sharp and heavy with insignia.
The others in the room immediately perked up.
"Morning, Instructor!" they chorused, voices stumbling over one another.
Liora pushed herself up, blinking. She'd never seen the instructor before — not in person, at least. Her presence had a gravity to it. Not cruel, not cold — just heavy.
The woman smiled faintly, scanning the room.
"Alright, I'll be in charge of your training for the next few weeks," she said. "Today, we'll be starting with something simple — one-on-one immobilization. Learn how to put your opponent down and make sure they stay down. Non-lethal, preferably. But if you hesitate, you lose. Understood?"
A murmur of agreement rolled through the group.
"Good. You've got ten minutes to get ready. I'll see you all in the yard."
As she left, the room erupted with motion. Uniforms rustled, boots clanked, and belts snapped tight. Liora stood up slowly, pulling on her uniform. The fabric was rough and itchy against her skin — far from the silk she'd grown up with. She tugged at the collar, sighing.
"Do they make these out of sandpaper?" she muttered under her breath.
No one answered. Everyone was too busy. She didn't mind.
By the time she stepped outside, the chill of the morning air cut against her skin. The courtyard was wide and rectangular, marked with training dummies and stone pillars. A group of older cadets sparred in the distance, the sound of their grunts and boots on dirt echoing faintly.
As she walked, she noticed a few boys glancing at her — whispering.
"Hey, that's the princess, right?" one said.
"Yeah. Liora"
"Why doesn't she wear her tiara?" another asked, grinning.
"Probably doesn't want to stand out. Or maybe…" the boy's grin widened, "her mother didn't wear one either, so she's just copying her."
The first boy frowned. "How do you even know that?"
"I assumed."
"Fair enough."
Liora stopped mid-step. Her jaw tightened slightly.
She didn't turn toward them — didn't say anything — but her eyes flickered, the faintest spark of emotion flashing across her usually composed expression. Mother…
She pushed the thought aside and joined the formation as the instructor entered the yard.
"Pairs!" the instructor barked. "Find someone around your size. You'll each have two minutes to immobilize the other. Remember — you're not here to play fair its meant to be a war you're fighting... You're here to win."
Names and partners began forming. When it was Liora's turn, she found herself standing across from a boy named Ezram — small about 152... Insanely short for an elf, wiry, with messy brown hair and a restless energy in his eyes. He looked more like a kid who should've been running errands than facing someone like her.
Still, he smiled up at her. "You look nervous, princess."
"I don't get nervous," she replied coolly, lowering her stance.
"lets see what our future Queen can do."
The instructor raised her hand.
"Begin!"
Liora didn't hesitate — she darted forward, her movements sharp and clean, appearing behind him in a single fluid step. She swept her leg low, aiming to take his feet out from under him —
But Ezram moved.
At the last second, he twisted, his smaller frame pivoting faster than she expected. His leg shot out, clipping her supporting ankle. She stumbled back, catching herself with one hand on the dirt.
Her eyes widened. He reacted?
Ezram didn't waste the opening. He jumped, bringing a kick toward her head — reckless but quick. Liora's instincts flared; a ribbon of water burst from her hand, wrapping around his leg mid-air.
"Got you," she whispered.
Ezram struggled, suspended upside down. But even then, his eyes darted to the ground, where a small pebble lay near his hand. He flicked it — fast — toward her face.
Liora flinched. The pebble grazed past her eye, snapping her focus for half a second — enough for the water ribbon to loosen.
Ezram dropped.
Before he could recover, Liora slammed her palm onto his chest — the same way Teris caught lif. A shock of water pressure burst outward, pinning him flat on the ground. Dust lifted around them as the impact echoed.
Ezram groaned.
"Shit"
Liora stood, breathing lightly, staring down at him. She'd won — but her hands were trembling slightly.
I almost slipped. Against someone like him.
As she turned away, her reflection rippled faintly in the puddle forming beneath her feet — calm eyes, but a faint shadow of doubt behind them.
The instructor's voice cut through the silence.
"Good. That's one match. But remember — power means nothing if you lose control for even a second."
Liora didn't answer. She just nodded faintly, walking back to her spot.
As the next pair stepped up, she stared quietly at her hands. The cool water dripped slowly from her fingers, sliding into the dirt.
"Damn," she whispered under her breath. "Am I really that weak…?"
And for the first time in a long while — she wasn't sure if she wanted the answer.