Ashe hadn’t listened to music since arriving at the headquarters, but today was an exception. The low hum of jazz was what he needed, a distraction. His mind and body were exhausted, questions rattling around like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit, while his body screamed at him that sparring Annabelle had been a bad idea. Each breath sent pain lancing through him, and every time he shifted in bed he winced. Welts had grown along his ribs and arms, making it uncomfortable to sleep in the usual position.
When sleep finally claimed him, it was instant, like time had skipped past him. Ashe jolted upright in a haze of confusion, swatting at the air, having to convince himself this wasn’t a nightmare. When Annabelle’s voice reached his ears, he calmed just a little, before a hint of anger welled up and spilled over. He wanted more sleep. He pulled the covers over his ears and hid from the world as he spoke.
“What the hell? I was told to be there at 6am. It sure as shit isn’t 6am. I would’ve heard my alarm.”
Something changed in the air. A weight, a pause before she spoke. Judgment?
“It’s 6:30. We’ve been waiting for 30 minutes.”
The words shifted something in him. The exhaustion retreated, and for a second he forgot about the aches and pains. Ashe jumped to his feet and immediately regretted it. Pain shot up and he grimaced, but he didn’t care. He hurried, pulling on his clothes and rushing down to meet the heralds.
The heralds. The words echoed in his mind as he swallowed. It hadn’t really sunk in until now, but his body trembled slightly and his head felt light, as he realized what that meant. His mouth grew drier and drier until it felt as if sand had filled every crevice.
The training room was familiar, still cool, with soft matting on the floor. But everything else was different. The quiet that usually pressed against him and Annabelle was gone. In its place, the chatter of people rang out. Then, as Ashe entered, a ripple of quiet washed over everyone. A choked-off laugh. Banter cut short. The air was thick with tension, a loud scoff sent a crawl up his spine.
He hadn’t planned on being late. Actually, he hated himself a little for it. Ashe took a deep breath and stepped forward, planning on smoothing tension with an apology.
But before he could say anything Danny spoke, cutting off any intention that he had in that moment.
“First, since we have someone new joining us.” The room stilled for a second before Danny continued. “Even if he was late.” Ashe blushed under what he could only imagine were prying eyes. “We will need new data points on progression and abilities. Once that is complete, we will create two teams, one of four and one of five. This will help with what we have planned.”
Someone broke in, his voice gravelly, like stone rubbing against stone. “What plan?”
“For now, you don’t need to worry about that.”
The sound of a foot scuffing against the mat, a small cough, shifting weight. But no pushback, no questions.
“Ashe, you’re up first. Kreor, first opponent.” Ashe froze, his feet refusing to leave the floor as the words echoed in his mind. A derisive snort, followed by a voice, snapped him out of it. “Really? The blind kid? What kind of crap is this?”
The words died in an instant. Clearly, Danny had motioned for his silence, and he’d obeyed. Ashe tried to ignore it and stepped forward. He didn’t have his weapon, and he didn’t think pulling a sword again would be viewed positively. He turned toward Danny and spoke. “What about a weapon?”
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“No weapons. You will use your bare fists,” Danny said.
It was strange, but Ashe had been practicing hand-to-hand combat with Annabelle. Still.
“Put on gloves, Kreor.” Danny’s words were harsh, all direction, but it seemed he still wanted to keep Ashe safe. The sound of Velcro and plastic against plastic was easy to distinguish. Ashe stood there awkwardly, waiting for the match to begin.
“Begin.”
The word jolted Ashe, and adrenaline pumped through him. The room fell silent, even breathing slipping into the background. Before Ashe could take a step forward, the dull pain of his ability hit. He didn’t have a chance to react. A glove slammed into his chest, forcing the air out of him in one harsh exhale.
The approaching steps stopped as Danny spoke. “Break.”
As Ashe got his breathing under control, the bout resumed. Ashe nodded in Danny’s direction.
“Fight.”
This time Ashe was more prepared for the speed of his opponent. He stepped back in time with the incoming steps, hoping that by keeping distance he’d be able to react fast enough. Pain shot up his side, where his liver sat. But this time he reacted, stepping sideways and throwing a counter toward where the attack had come from.
Too slow.
His fist met only air, and he stumbled forward. In that moment he felt a presence behind him, pain flaring in his back. He slipped to the side, but again his speed failed him at close range. The boxing glove hit him in the ribs, right where the bruises were already deep.
His mind reeled. Pain filled every gap, and instinct took over. He turned on his heel and swung wildly, but he missed again and stumbled, landing face-first on the mat.
“Finished,” Danny said.
Hands grabbed his arm, soft, delicate. The smell of vanilla. It was Annabelle. She pulled him off the mat and up into a seated position, all while the next bout began. She spoke softly, the warmth of her voice brushing against his ear. “I’m going to heal you.”
Ashe frowned. She had said she wouldn’t make it a habit. It would only cause him to rely on external healing and would decrease his body’s ability to heal on its own. She clearly saw the confusion on his face.
“You’re not done yet.” The words came out cold, distant, like her emotions were hidden. As her hands grew warmer, the aches and pains grew fainter, dimmer. Not gone, but better.
“Thanks.” His tone was dry, monotone, as Ashe tried to focus on the fights. It was Kenji vs Eloise. While they weren’t the strongest heralds, Ashe knew he could still learn a thing or two.
He knew from his research on The Heralds that Eloise preferred keeping her distance, while Kenji liked fighting close combat. He could tell quickly which was which. The patterns were easy to recognise. Eloise was quick and nimble, taking two steps in the time Kenji took one. She favoured moving to her side, and a pattern quickly appeared: two to the left, one to the right, three left, one right, then repeat. Kenji managed to cut her off and win the bout within five minutes.
By the time the next bout began, Ashe already felt like he’d learned a few things. The same could not be said about the next. It was basically over before it began. Ahmed dispatched Antonia within seconds.
Ashe didn’t speak, didn’t budge, as he continued to follow along.
When Danny’s voice said his name, he didn’t move at first, surprised that he was up. But before he knew it, he was on the mat, his heart in his throat once again.
“Eloise. Glove up.”
A smile crept onto Ashe’s face as he realised his studying would pay off.
“Fight,” Danny said.
Ashe stepped toward the sound of bouncing feet. She was tall, lanky, and used her range well. But Ashe cut her off, already knowing she was circling. A dull warning flared in his face and he snapped his head to the side. Only a slight graze.
Ashe pushed forward. Her pace increased. Pain spiked from his stomach this time. Knowing she would keep circling, he stepped right into her path. His first swing missed, just the whoosh of air. He threw an uppercut wildly, expecting to hit nothing again, and froze when his fist drove into her stomach.
Pain shot up from his knuckles, but he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth.
Danny’s voice began to form. “Br…”
The motion in the air didn’t slow. It didn’t stop. Before he could even react to the dull warning, a fist cracked his chin, slung his head to the side, and the soundless void claimed him. For a second, he’d felt worthy. Now that was gone.
