Gabriel's gaze clashed with Sabrina's, her eyes a frosty, piercing blue. Unyielding, he met her scrutiny with an unapologetic countenance.

As he moved toward the inn's back door, she said, “And just where do you think you're going?”

“I need to speak with the soldiers outside.”

“And here I thought I was providing you room and board so you could work, not talk with the military.”

“If you consider a haystack and stale bread ‘room and board,’ then I suppose you are,” Gabriel retorted.

“You ungrateful wretch,” she hissed. “You can forget about sleeping in my stables tonight—or getting any food.”

Gabriel's hand balled into a tight fist at his side, knuckles whitening. “I've known hunger,” he said, voice steely, “and I'll know it again if I have to.” He pulled off his apron, folded it neatly despite his anger, and set it on the bar. He exited before Sabrina could offer any further rebukes.

Stepping out into the night, Gabriel was greeted by a surprisingly chilly breeze. Though it was summer, the cold nights here could be deceptive. As he leaned against the weather-worn wall of the inn, his ears picked up the rhythmic sound of approaching boots on cobblestones. He straightened up, shaking off the shadows of doubt and preparing himself mentally for whatever was about to unfold. I need to do this.

The soldiers rounded the corner, their dimly-lit lanterns bobbing softly. The time had come.

“He didn't run,” said Avis.

Olof grumbled and tossed something into Avis's open palm. The metallic clink was unmistakable—a wager settled.

Atlas gave a slight nod toward Avis, who then reached into the folds of his worn coat and drew forth a steel sword, offering it to Gabriel. “For you.”

Gabriel gulped as he took the weapon. It was the first time he had held a sword since that dreadful day—since blood had been spilled by his own hand. It felt simultaneously right and wrong, and the paradox sent a slight shiver down his spine.

Despite his nerves, Gabriel was surprised by his own strength. His palms gripped the hilt with a newfound determination. Though he hadn't been formally practicing, his arduous travels had been a different form of training. Aside from the physical exertion that came with walking from village to village and working in various establishments, he had been trying to keep up with his push-ups and sit-ups—though he still felt scrawny.

“I won’t go easy on you, lad,” Atlas said, drawing his own blade. “When you’re ready.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

An sense of anticipation surged through Gabriel. He gripped his necklace, hoping it would bring him a sense of calm. He wondered, will that strange power come again?

He focused on the blade, filled with fear and promise. Fear that he might harm another. Fear that he might lose himself to the intoxicating call of violence.

With a guttural roar that seemed to echo the rage boiling within him, Gabriel lunged forward, his sword arm fully extended. The haunting visage of the man who had slain his mother powered his every stride. His blade cut through the air, glinting in the flickering light of the soldier’s lanterns.

With expert ease, Atlas deflected Gabriel's ferocious swing with a clash. A subtle grin tugged at the corners of Atlas’s lips. He seemed to be enjoying the duel. Foregoing a retaliatory sword strike, he shifted his weight and unleashed a devastating kick—aimed squarely at Gabriel's midriff.

The impact was akin to being struck by a sledgehammer. Gabriel's breath was violently expelled from his lungs as he reeled backward, his vision momentarily spangled with stars. His grip on the sword wavered, but through sheer willpower, he clenched his fingers tighter, refusing to let the weapon fall.

Atlas seemed to hesitate for a split second, taking in Gabriel's tenacity. Then, taking advantage of the boy's momentary imbalance, he faked an attack to the left, drawing Gabriel's blade and attention in that direction. In a swift change of direction, the soldier shifted and aimed a backhanded strike toward Gabriel's exposed side.

Instinct kicked in. Gabriel pivoted on his heels, twisting his body just enough to avoid a debilitating hit. His sword moved almost of its own accord, intercepting Atlas’s blade in a desperate parry that sent sparks flying.

Grimacing from the residual pain in his midsection, Gabriel forced air back into his lungs and faced Atlas, his sword held in a defensive stance. His body screamed for respite, but he wouldn’t give up. I’ve got nothing left to lose. “Is that all you've got?”

The soldiers burst into laughter. “The kid's got some balls on him,” Avis said.

“They just haven't dropped yet,” Atlas added, eliciting another round of laughter.

Taking a defensive stance, Gabriel braced for Atlas’s assault. The soldier feinted to the left again but swiftly switched directions. He wasn’t quick enough this time to prevent Atlas from hitting his ribs with the hilt of his sword. Gritting his teeth in pain but refusing to let his blade fall, Gabriel looked up with a crazed grin.

Atlas took a step back, studying the boy before him. “By Ash, you're an odd one. Your technique's rough around the edges, nearly nonexistent. It ain't good enough for the academy, and there’s not enough time for you to get good enough.” He cocked his head to the side. “But there’s a fire inside you, an intensity in your strikes that I never would have guessed judging from how you spoke. You’d make a decent soldier if you could control your temper.”

Gabriel nodded. “I channel my anger. It fuels me.”

“I understand. Believe me, I do. But it’s no way to live.”

Gabriel bowed his head in defeat.

“You really want this, lad, don’t you?”

“Sir, I have nothing in my life anymore. I don’t simply want this. I need it. I’ll make you proud.”

Atlas considered his men before asking, “What do you reckon, boys?”

“I like him,” Avis chimed in. “Besides, we could use someone to do the chores.”

He saw Olof studying him, a strange glint in his eyes. He looked at Atlas and nodded once.

Atlas turned to Gabriel. “You don’t need the academy to be a soldier, lad. You may join us if the commander will have you.”

A smile broke through Gabriel's face as relief and purpose flooded him. He had a way forward now, a path to tread. Whether he'd make it into the Steel Academy was a concern for another day.

For now, it seemed, Orion was destined to be a soldier.