The punishment gauntlet had been brutal. Dain, Kaelan, and Lia had spent hours hauling each other over mud-slicked walls, crawling under crackling energy-nets, and slogging through near-frozen water. By the time Instructor Vorlag had finally, mercifully, dismissed them, they were too exhausted to even speak, united only by their shared misery and failure.
The next morning, Dain Ragnor was summoned. Not to the squad training grounds, but to Vorlag's private, windowless sparring ring deep beneath the Academy garrison.
The room was bare, stark, and smelled of old sweat and steel. Vorlag stood in the center, dressed in a simple training tunic, holding two wooden practice swords. He tossed one to Dain. It clattered at his feet.
"Pick it up, Ragnor," Vorlag said, his voice flat.
Dain's jaw tightened. He was sore, angry, and humiliated. "What is this? More punishment?"
