CHAPTER 2

  I heard the sound of the alarm clock.

  Although I had been awake for a while, I kept my eyes closed. But as soon as the tedious melody started, I opened them with difficulty. It was five in the morning.

  I was in charge of field action classes for third and fourth years, so the schedule wasn’t new to me.

  I sat up in bed, my feet touching the cold floor. I felt the cold seep through my body as I stared at a fixed point, aimlessly. After a few seconds, I got up. I went straight to the bathroom, took a hot shower, and, when I stepped out, I stopped in front of the mirror.

  I looked at myself in silence. My short hair, just above my shoulders—not long enough to seem masculine, but just enough to remain feminine. The bags under my eyes were noticeable, not too dark, but enough to stand out against my brown skin… or what was left of it. Little by little, that color had faded. The brown was turning to pale, and my brown eyes stood out more and more. I had always had a round face, and I never looked my age. Always younger. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.

  Once I finished, I put on my uniform. While I was getting dressed, I heard three knocks on the door. I didn’t open it—I was still changing—but under the door slid a paper with my name:

  “Verá Francadici”

  Flipped over, it read:

  “Meeting in the upper hall.”

  I knew very well what the topic of that meeting would be, and that didn’t sit well with me. Still, I tried to act as if it didn’t bother me.

  As soon as I entered the room, the first thing I saw was the large dark wood table, perfectly varnished, with that characteristic shine that revealed constant care. Around it, the chairs were arranged with an obsessive exactness, as if someone had taken the time to measure the distance between each to make them simply perfect. The sun had already risen over the horizon, and its light filtered elegantly through the large windows, giving the room an unexpected warmth. The smell of coffee filled the air, blending with the expectant silence that reigned in the room.

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  I could see the faces of my superiors and colleagues. There were no more than eight of us in that place.

  One by one, the members of the team took their seats. Some walked with firm steps, others dragging the weight of sleepless nights. I was the last to sit. The space around the table filled with a dense silence, only interrupted by the soft creaking of the chairs as they moved.

  Commander Donal stood up from his place at the front, his posture straight and his uniform perfectly aligned, as always. His face, clean and symmetrical, reflected a quiet authority. His green eyes, penetrating, gleamed with that intensity that always conveyed an absolute security. His blonde hair, always carefully styled, only reinforced his image as an implacable leader.

  “You all know why we’re here,” his voice, deep and authoritative, cut through the low murmur that had begun to form.

  In that instant, my mind drifted to the red-haired boy I had seen yesterday, the cadet who had managed to sneak onto the bus. He was just a teenager, burdened with more doubts and fears than his age should allow.

  “I don’t know whose responsibility it is that he sneaked in, or if it was simply the boy’s bravery that got him here, but there’s no turning back,” Donal said, his eyes fixed on me.

  In that moment, I knew my fleeting moments of peace had come to an end. Donal, who had been like an older brother to me, had not only taught me everything I knew about the army but had shaped me, giving me the tools to become who I was. Since I joined, he had never let go of my hand. He had guided me with firmness and confidence, and in his gaze, I could see the reflection of his belief in me.

  I looked at him, aware of what was about to be said, and braced myself for the inevitable.

  “Franca,” he said, using my nickname, “you’re going to be in charge of teaching him discipline and his training in the field.”

  I felt a weight settle on my shoulders. I knew it wouldn’t just be my responsibility, that it wouldn’t be an easy task, but I had done it before. I would do it again.

  “His name is Giovanni,” Donal continued, as if reading my thoughts. “Not only will you train him. Azrak will also guide his path.”

  It was then that my gaze shifted to him, Captain Zarven, known to everyone as Azrak. He was as tall as the commander, with a strong jawline, prominent cheekbones, and a steady gaze that always conveyed security. His dark, short hair remained simple, unadorned, just like him. Despite his imposing presence, Azrak remained silent, his gaze concentrated.

  In that moment, I realized what Donal was proposing: Giovanni would not only undergo my training but also have Azrak as part of his education. Both Donal and Azrak had always been examples for me. Donal, for his ability to teach with rigor, for his way of imparting discipline and leadership. Azrak, for his natural talent for war, for the intensity that inspired immediate respect.

  A few other topics were discussed, such as the upcoming conflict locations and the tasks that different groups would take on. I, along with Azrak, Claire, Anya, and Owen, would be out of combat for the time being. We were all captains, but this time Donal decided we wouldn’t go to the front lines. The war was constant, but the strategies were clear: there was no need to send our best forces right now.

  My faith in Donal was absolute. I respected him deeply, as I did Azrak. Thanks to his leadership, I knew the path to victory had already been charted, and that even though the battles seemed endless, one day we would see a freer world if we continued with the discipline and dedication they had taught us.