"What's the matter? Don't they teach you how to run someone over in the capital?" Connie laughed as Vivienne sat sulking on the floor. They were training in martial arts and with wooden swords, and Vivienne was anything but skilled at it. At first, Connie had been reluctant to accept her request to train together.

He felt it was wrong to hit girls. But when she kept pushing him, he finally gave in, and here they were. "That's because you cheated," she said, and Connie held out his hand to help her to her feet. A laugh escaped his lips. "You follow the rules far too much."

She giggled. Vivienne wasn't sure how she had ended up here. But once they had started playing cards, and Armin had joined them by chance, it had become something of a ritual for the four cadets.

The barracks fell silent, except for the occasional snore or the sound of someone shifting in their bunk. Most of the cadets had fallen asleep, exhausted after another brutal day of training, but four figures sat huddled next to a dim lantern, whispering in the dark.

Vivienne hugged her knees and watched as Sasha tried and failed to shuffle a deck of slightly worn playing cards. "Okay, okay, wait—I think I've got it this time," Sasha muttered, sticking out her tongue in concentration.

"How is it possible that you're so bad at shuffling?" Connie whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly. "You're brilliant at stealing food. How does that work?"

"I'm not stealing it, Connie, I'm rescuing it," Sasha corrected, clutching her chest theatrically. "If I don't take it, someone else will. It's a matter of survival!"

Vivienne grinned as she watched Sasha fumble with the cards again, dropping half of them on the wooden floor. "You might be onto something," she teased. "But speaking of survival, I think this game is already dead."

Armin chuckled next to her and leaned his head against the wall. "At this point, it's not about the game anymore. It's about seeing if Sasha can ever successfully shuffle a deck of cards before we graduate."

"Hey, don't act like you're any better," Sasha grumbled, nudging Armin with her elbow. "I don't see you offering to do it."

"That's because I can shuffle," he replied, taking the deck from her hand with an amused shake of his head.

Vivienne had to smile. A casual, sincere smile, strange but welcome. She hadn't expected to feel so comfortable in their presence. Conversations with the others were often meaningful, full of deeper questions or unspoken tensions. But here it was different. It was easy, normal.

She sat back and stretched her legs. "I don't get it. You all act like you've known each other forever, but it's only been a few months, hasn't it?"

Sasha shrugged. "When you've got Shadis screaming in your face every day together, it bonds you for life."

"Yeah," Connie added. "I mean, we've all face-planted during ODM training. There's no going back after that."

Vivienne laughed softly. She understood what they meant. She couldn't count on both hands how many times she'd crashed into a tree trunk or landed on her butt. The training had stripped away all pretence and forced everyone to be their most vulnerable, exhausted selves. Maybe that's why it felt so natural.

"Besides," Sasha continued, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, "you've somehow become part of the group, Vivienne."

She blinked. "Have I?"

Armin nodded. "Of course. You're not half as scary as Jean makes you out to be."

"Hang on—Jean thinks I'm scary?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Connie grinned. "Oh, he does. He says you stare too much and are far too intense."

Vivienne felt heat rising in her cheeks and crossed her arms. She snorted and shook her head. "Well, that's rich coming from him. Like I've got nothing better to do. I really hate this guy."

The four of them burst out laughing, muffling the sound so as not to wake the others. For the first time since her arrival, Vivienne didn't feel like an outsider trying to prove herself.

She... was part of something.

But as the laughter died down, something whispered into her ear. It was faint at first, like the rustling of leaves in the wind, but it grew louder, more insistent. Vivienne's smile faltered as she tried to focus on the conversation, but the voices tugged at the edges of her mind.

Broken promises

Evening red

Freedom

Traitor

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The words were disjointed, fragmented, but they carried a weight that made her chest tighten. She glanced at Armin, who was now explaining a new card game to Sasha, and then at Connie, who was grinning as he teased Sasha about her lack of coordination.

Everything was so normal with them.

There it was again. They weren't constant, but they were there.

Something she couldn't explain.

Heat was rising up inside her.

"Vivienne?" Armin's voice broke through her thoughts. "You okay? You zoned out for a second there."

She forced a smile, though her heart was racing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... tired, I guess."

Connie raised an eyebrow. "Tired? We haven't even started the real training yet. Wait until you're out there facing Titans—then you'll know what tired feels like."

Sasha elbowed him. "Don't scare her, Connie. She's already intense enough as it is."

Vivienne laughed, but it felt hollow. The whispers were growing louder, more urgent, and she could feel a headache building behind her eyes. She needed air.

"I think I'm going to call it a night," she said, standing up and brushing off her trousers. "Thanks for the game, guys."

Armin looked up at her, his blue eyes filled with concern. "You sure you're okay? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," she lied, forcing another smile. "Just need some sleep."

As she walked away, the whispers followed her, growing louder with each step. She clenched her fists, trying to block them out, but they were relentless. Her eyes looked uneasy at the ground. When she finally reached the door, she glanced back at the group. They were already engrossed in their new game, their laughter filling the room. Something weighed down on her.

What was it?

Was it stress?

Was it the pressure of being scared to not performing well enough?

She didn't know. But what she did know was that she heard it more often now. A voice—or voices.

Vivienne wouldn't know what to do without Armin. The memory of sitting desperately on her knees in front of her dismantled ODM gear was still fresh in her mind, as if it were yesterday. Panic had coursed through her entire body.

"I've forgotten how to put the pieces back together! What am I going to do? I don't want to be punished and run laps for over five hours!"

Desperation had risen in her. She knew the ODM gear almost by heart. But sometimes her perfectionist drive to improve led her so far that she forgot the basics.

Sasha's punishment was nothing compared to what she was about to face. How could she even explain why she'd dismantled the ODM gear

Was it possible to be thrown out of the Academy?

"Don't worry, Vivienne! We... We'll manage!"

Armin had spent the whole day and half the night with her, poring over diagrams and piecing the various parts together properly. Although Sasha and Connie looked at her as if she was speaking another language, when talking about the mechanics of the ODM gear, Armin listened to her every time, encouraged her, and offered ideas.

He looked at her with those enthusiastic eyes every time she told him what she was going to try next.

It made her feel understood.

Sleepless nights.

They had become more frequent over the past few weeks. As soon as she closed her eyes, the images came. Blurred at first, shifting too quickly for her mind to process, until the flashing grew sharper, each one striking like a hammer against her skull. A dull ache settled behind her eyes.

Then came the voices.

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Tears

Anger

Pity

Cruelty

The words slithered into her ears, whispers laced with urgency, rising and falling in a ghostly symphony. Some were sharp, others stretched and distorted like echoes in an empty hall. The more she tried to make sense of them, the deeper they burrowed, crawling under her skin.

A cold sweat clung to her body. Her limbs felt stiff, coiled tight like a spring wound too far. The tension crawled up her spine, pressing against her ribs, making every breath feel shallow, strained.

Then the images changed.

The capital. Her home. Burning. The air choked with smoke. The stone streets cracked and littered with debris. The sky turned into an evening red. And looming above it all—

A shadow.

Enormous.

Unfathomable.

Her stomach clenched. A ringing filled her ears. And then—

Vivienne's eyes snapped open, her body jerking upright. She gasped for air, chest heaving as she clawed at the sheets. Her nightclothes clung to her damp skin, the room thick with the scent of sweat and unease.

The whispers hadn't stopped.

They never stopped.

She pushed herself off the bed, her legs unsteady as she stumbled outside. The night air was sharp, cold enough to sting against her overheated skin. It hit her like a wave, momentarily shocking her senses.

Vivienne squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply. The scent of damp grass and earth filled her lungs, grounding her for a fleeting moment.

She was no stranger to these dreams. Similar dreams like this haunted her since childhood—fractured glimpses of things she couldn't understand.

She used to wake up sobbing, overwhelmed by the chaos in her mind. But her father—

He was always there.

The memory flickered to life, warm and safe. She could still feel the way his arms wrapped around her, his steady breaths calming her frantic ones. He never asked her to explain. He simply stayed.

The nights grew so frequent that he started leaving his study door open, always listening, always ready.

Vivienne's throat tightened.

Her father had been her rock, her protector. Her uncle had been her idol, the one she longed to be. But her father? He had been constant. The one person she believed would always be by her side.

But she was wrong.

"We haven't even tried to talk this out yet!"

The voice cut through the night like a blade, clear, familiar—yet utterly foreign.

Vivienne's breath hitched. Her pulse thundered in her ears as her eyes darted across the empty training grounds. No movement. No one.

The voice wasn't out here.

Her hand started shaking.

It was inside her.

She pressed a hand against the cold stone wall, steadying herself as the world tilted. That sentence. That voice. It followed her like a shadow, whispering in the back of her mind at the most unexpected moments.

But whose voice was it?

"Vivienne?"

She startled, whipping around to see Sasha standing in the doorway. The concern in her eyes was unmistakable.

"Are you okay?" Sasha asked, stepping closer. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Vivienne forced a smile, but her fingers trembled at her sides. "I'm fine. Just... thinking."

Sasha didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she sat beside her, a quiet but steady presence against the storm raging in Vivienne's mind.

"You seem deep in thought," Sasha murmured after a moment. "What are you thinking about?"

Vivienne hesitated.

Then, softly, she said, "My father."

Sasha leaned back on her hands and looked up at the night sky. "Did you have a fight with him?"

Vivienne blinked, surprised by the question. "You don't look too happy," Sasha explained. "I used to argue with my dad too. I was often really unhappy with what he said. But then I realised it wasn't about him being right or me being right—it was that we were both right, in a way."

Vivienne's eyes widened. She looked up at the sky, letting Sasha's words sink in. Could she blame her father for not wanting to send his own daughter into the army? No. But she could blame him for not doing more. And yet, sometimes she wondered—had she made the right choice?

A piece of bread suddenly appeared in front of her eyes.

"Warm bread will definitely help you sleep," Sasha said with a grin.

Vivienne's lips curled into a smile, and she took the bread. She broke it in half and gave the rest to Sasha. They both bit into their pieces and sat in silence, the whispers fading into the background.

She cherished moments like this the most.

Are you lost in thought again?

"Really... what are you always thinking about?"

Connie's grinning voice brought her back to reality, and Vivienne looked over at him. He was another person she had grown very fond of over the years. She hadn't won a single training round against him, but they were always fun.

"I'm thinking about cake," she said.

"Cake?" he repeated questioningly. She nodded at him with a smile. "We used to have cake on the table every Sunday."

"What? You had it really good! We only had cake on special occasions," he said in a frustrated voice, and she laughed.

"What are you guys talking about?" Armin's voice interrupted them, and Connie pouted a little.

"Armin, did you know Vivienne is such a posho that she could afford to have cake every Sunday!"

"We even had different types of cakes," Vivienne added teasingly, while Connie looked at her, shocked. Armin and she laughed a little.

Then Vivienne's smile faded slightly. An uncomfortable feeling rose in her. She had now spent almost four years here. And still... sometimes she doubted if all this was the right decision.

"Vivienne? Are you alright?" asked Armin. Vivienne looked over to him and smiled. "I'm good. Just thinking that we graduate soon."

"You mean that we finally graduate soon," said Connie, and they laughed.

"I guess it's time for dinner," Connie said, putting his swords away. "You guys go ahead; I'll join you soon," Vivienne said.

"Are you sure?" Armin asked, and she nodded. He hesitated but then left with Connie.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the training grounds in a pale, silvery glow under the light of the moon. A faint breeze stirred the dust beneath Vivienne's boots, but the night was unnervingly quiet. No crickets, no rustling of leaves—just silence. A silence too thick, too unnatural.

Vivienne stood alone, her practice blade resting against her shoulder, staring at the towering walls in the distance. She should have gone to dinner, but the whispers had started again—faint at first, like a shifting wind, but now they crawled beneath her skin, threading through her veins.

Evening red.

Tragedy.

Broken bonds

Traitor

She inhaled sharply as the words slammed into her skull like the crack of a whip. A cold sweat pricked at the nape of her neck, and a dull ringing filled her ears. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to steady her breathing. The voices weren't always this strong. Why now?

Why did it suddenly get worse than usual?

A faint scuff of boots on gravel made her spine stiffen.

"You're still out here?"

His voice cut through the silence like a blade, and Vivienne had to force herself not to flinch. She turned to see Eren walking toward her, his hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders tense. His blue-green eyes glowed under the moonlight, but there was something else in them—something she couldn't name.

"Graduation's in a few days, you know," he continued. "You should be resting."

Vivienne forced a smile, but her chest tightened. The whispers surged, not deafening, but there—just beneath the surface, pressing in on her skull like a vice.

She exhaled through her nose. "I could say the same to you."

Eren shrugged, stopping a few feet away. His presence was like static electricity—unseen, but impossible to ignore. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd get some extra practice in."

His gaze flicked to the wooden training blade in her hand. Then, back to her face.

"You've been acting weird lately. Something on your mind?"

Vivienne hesitated. Her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles turning white. How could she explain it? The whispers, the visions, the way her instincts screamed at her—it was all too much.

And yet, she couldn't tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Would he even believe her?

Would anyone believe her?

"Just... thinking about what comes next," she said finally, keeping her voice even. "Joining the Survey Corps, facing the Titans... it's a lot to take in."

Eren's expression softened, just for a moment. He looked almost sympathetic.

"Yeah, I get that." His gaze drifted toward the stars. "But we've trained for this. We're ready. And we're not alone—we've got each other. And you haven't changed your mind, right?"

Vivienne nodded, but her stomach churned. His words were reassuring, but his hands—she noticed too late—were clenched into fists. His nails dug into his palms, and his jaw was locked tight.

Something about the way he said we're ready made the air feel heavier.

Her head pulsed. The whispers swelled.

A girl with hollow eyes.

A destroyed city.

Screams-

Vivienne's breath hitched.

"Vivienne?"

Eren's voice snapped her back to reality. He was staring at her now, brow furrowed, concern flickering across his features.

"You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

She forced a laugh, though it came out thin and strained. "I'm fine. Just... tired, I guess."

Eren didn't look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, then took a step closer.

"You know," he said, quieter this time, "if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. We're in this together."

The sincerity in his voice made her chest ache. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust him. Her lips parted.

There was no one else here who understood her desire to join the survey corps better than him.

But the whispers wouldn't stop.

Vivienne swallowed hard, pushing it all down. "Thanks, Eren," she said softly. "I'll keep that in mind."

For a moment, they stood in silence, shadows stretching long under the moon. Then, finally, Eren turned to leave.

"Don't stay out too late," he called over his shoulder. "We've got a big day ahead of us."

Vivienne watched as his silhouette disappeared into the darkness, her pulse hammering against her ribs. The voices had settled—just slightly—but the pressure in her skull remained.

She exhaled shakily and turned toward the walls again.

Then—

"Watch him."

A sharp breath lodged in her throat. Her fingers trembled around the hilt of her sword.

She spun around, heart pounding.

The training grounds were empty.

Was she going insane?