Samye woke before the sun.
His body protested immediately — stiff muscles, lingering soreness from the previous day — but he forced himself upright. He finished his spiritual routine early, sitting in silence until his breathing steadied and his mind cleared enough to move.
Today was different.
Today, he would touch a weapon.
By the time he reached the training grounds, dawn light spilled across the earth. Kayal was already there, inspecting the cadets lined up in formation.
Kayal noticed Samye approaching and nodded once.
“Good,” he said. “You woke early.”
Samye took his place among the cadets.
The air felt heavier than yesterday.
Kayal stepped forward.
“Today,” he announced, “you begin basic weapon wielding. Not combat. Not sparring. Fundamentals.”
Weapons were laid out before them — spears, bows, short swords, curved blades, and training staffs.
“Choose,” Kayal said. “Your preference will guide your foundation.”
Samye walked forward slowly.
Stolen story; please report.
His gaze passed over blades meant for cutting… bows meant for distance… swords meant for dominance.
He stopped at the spear.
Balanced.
Direct.
Honest.
He picked it up.
Kayal observed quietly but said nothing.
The training began.
Grip correction.
Foot placement.
Breathing synchronization.
Weight transfer.
They learned how to hold weapons before learning how to strike.
Samye practiced spear thrusts until his arms trembled. Bow drills burned his shoulders. Sword stances strained muscles he didn’t know existed. Each weapon demanded discipline — not strength alone.
“Control first,” Kayal repeated.
“Power without control is noise.”
The training lasted all day.
No shortcuts.
No praise.
No breaks longer than necessary.
By sunset, Samye could barely lift his arms.
His body shook with exhaustion.
But his mind felt… sharper.
“Good work today,” Kayal said as they dismissed the cadets.
Samye nodded. “Thank you.”
“Eat,” Kayal added. “Rest.”
Samye turned and walked slowly back toward his quarters, stopping briefly to buy simple street food — warm bread and roasted vegetables. He ate quietly once inside his room.
As he lay down, fatigue wrapped around him like a blanket.
Yet his thoughts wandered.
Father.
Mother.
Aren.
He had come far — farther than he ever imagined — yet the distance made the absence louder.
Loneliness settled in gently.
Not crushing.
Just real.
He closed his eyes.
Far away.
In a sealed chamber of darkness.
A kneeling messenger spoke in a trembling voice.
“The facility… there were no bodies. No signs of evacuation. Everything was functioning as if time stopped.”
A shadowed figure listened silently.
“You’re saying,” the voice finally spoke, calm and curious, “that an entire compound vanished mid-moment?”
“Yes—”
Before the messenger could finish—
Gravity twisted.
Flames erupted.
The messenger screamed briefly before being burned alive, his body collapsing into ash at the figure’s feet.
The shadow smiled faintly.
“…Interesting.”
He turned toward the darkness.
“I will see this myself.”
And somewhere far away—
Samye slept.
Unaware that the quiet he had found was already being hunted.
