Ember planted her boot in the underbrush, pulling herself up to the summit of the hill. Ahead was a domed building constructed entirely of metal and stone, an unusual combination for the city’s architecture. Looming at its rear was an impressively large compound built from the same materials.

She unfolded her map, her finger hovering over the location that Mr. Badger had circled in red. “I think this is it.”

Jisu squinted. “I didn’t expect it to be so close to the ranked complex.”

Ember shrugged uneasily. Indeed, if she kept still enough, she thought she could hear the sound of heavy blows smashing against their targets. Steeling herself, she took a swig from her canteen and began the descent down the hill.

Mercifully, it was the last leg of what had been a long and arduous hike to the training grounds. The half-frozen branches had torn at her new training uniform, which had been delivered along with the map by mule the day before. Unlike most of Mendel’s clothing, it was tight-fitting, consisting of dark green trousers, a long-sleeved, lace-up shirt, and a thick cloak that clasped at the neck. A leather belt could be fitted around the waist, allowing the fighter to attach the sheath of a knife or sword. She had also been issued a new pair of knee-high leather boots, lightweight enough to run in but also sufficiently durable.

They arrived at the foot of the hill just as a group of Linnaeans was leaving the complex. Jisu grabbed Ember by the arm, tugging her aside so that they could watch the fighters pass unnoticed. It was an eccentric band, consisting of a horned mammal, a pisces, and two insects. The mammal carried a bow and the fish a mace, but the two insects were seemingly unarmed. Unlike Ember, they all wore bands around their biceps, indicating their status as high-level fighters.

“The advanced class,” Jisu said, looking at them appreciatively. As they drew closer, Ember noticed that their uniforms were well-worn and bloodstained, and their appearance was similarly haggard. Still, though, they were laughing among themselves as they limped into the forest. “They’re preparing to debut,” Jisu guessed. “If they become rankers now, they can participate in the spring tournament.”

“Hmm,” Ember said, memorizing their faces in case she ever found herself facing them. She stepped back out onto the path when fighters passed, looking at Jisu expectantly. “Come on, I’d rather not be late.”

Together, they walked up the trail toward the domed building. Ember took it in with wide eyes, trying not to look too awestruck and betray her inexperience. Some of the buildings had been constructed out of the hill itself and vanished into the bulging earth; others were multiple stories, with the top floors serving as open-air arenas. Vines crept up the stone, softening its stark appearance. Occasionally, a tremor of unknown origin passed underfoot and disappeared into the distance.

A set of double doors marked the entrance to the domed building. It was an imposing sight—the heavy hardwood had been reinforced with beams of iron, and what appeared to be a bloody handprint was stamped near the doorknob. A placard above the doors bore the words ‘For the glory of Mendel’.

With a great effort, Jisu pulled open the door. Ember entered slowly, initially unable to make sense of the interior. The stone ceiling arched high above, creating the illusion of a never-ending spiral, and scaffolding reached to its peak. A handful of Linnaeans sat with their legs hanging over the edge, watching the battleground below. On the arena floor, two fighters were sparring with swords, the metal clanging jarringly each time their weapons met in a whirl of motion.

The flooring was hard-packed sand, devoid of any obstacles so that a large number of trainees could spar simultaneously. The walls, however, were lined with weapons and armor of all varieties. Many of them were foreign to Ember: toothed swords, daggers with multiple blades, and spears topped with double-headed axes.

“We’ve come a long way from the beginner’s class,” Ember breathed, referencing the modest clearing in which they’d trained.

“Keep your head up,” Jisu advised. “We deserve to be here.”

Ember opened her mouth, intending to agree, but a sudden motion caught her attention. Behind Jisu, a female Linnaean was descending the scaffolding expertly. She appeared to glide rather than climb, aided by bristle-like appendages that sprouted from regular intervals around her body. She released her grip as she reached the last fifteen feet, landing in a cloud of dust.

“Hello,” she said, standing up to her full height.

Ember mumbled a reply, distracted by her otherworldly appearance. Silvery, segmented armor covered most of her body, anchoring the fiery orange spines. Like Orthus, her coloration was both vivid and fluid, shifting drastically each time it caught the light.

“My name is Ophelia,” she continued. “I’m a ranker and the head instructor for the intermediate class. Am I right to assume that you two are Ember and Jisu?”

“That’s right,” the panther confirmed.

“We’re glad to have you,” Ophelia said. Without warning, she gripped a bristle on her wrist, snapping it off before reaching out in greeting. Ember flinched at the noise, prompting a laugh. “Worry not; they grow back quickly. That one was particularly annoying, and I would rather not prick one of my students again.”

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Ember nodded slowly, thrown off by the use of the word ‘again.’ As Ophelia shook Jisu’s hand, she realized that the instructor wore six bands—three on each arm—as well as a patch in the shape of a pair of wings.

“Goodness, look at the time!” Ophelia said, glancing at her wrist (which did not, in fact, bear a watch). “If you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for our class. You two should wait here and become acquainted with your peers.”

“Thank you,” Ember said, and she and Jisu retreated near the wall to put down their bags and wrap their hands.

A moment passed in silence before Jisu looked up, her expression pensive. “She was strong. I could sense it.”

“Me too,” Ember commented. Despite her upbeat personality, Ophelia had radiated danger like a brightly-colored poisonous plant, and her watchful eye mirrored Elliot’s. If anything, her peculiar behavior was probably intended to ease our fears.

“We have a lot to learn from her,” Jisu added, sitting against the wall in order to stretch out her hamstrings. Ember joined her, keeping a close watch on the entrance as the members of the intermediate class began to arrive. Like the beginners, they represented a wide range of ages and species, but they interacted with the ease of practiced fighters.

Amid the sea of new faces, Ember spotted Lance and Jamarquis, two acquaintances from Mr. Badger’s class. She raised her hand in greeting, and they beelined over, clearly grateful not to be the only new initiates. She looked them over, paying greater attention now that she knew they were skilled. Both young men were in uniform, though Jamarquis had modified his shirt to allow room for his two sets of wings. He had dark skin and insectile features, while Lance was petite and covered in snow-white fur.

“Were you the only others to move up?” Jisu asked, sharpening a claw with her blade.

Jamarquis nodded. “Just the four of us out of the nineteen who made it to the evaluation.”

Ember looked down, finding it unsettling that she was now in a league entirely above so many Linnaeans with whom she had intimately trained. Jisu, on the other hand, was characteristically unaffected. “Your species are the dragonfly and the ermine, correct?”

Both men nodded. “I’m a viper,” Ember supplied, not wanting to appear rude.

“I know,” Jamarquis answered. “I was concerned that Mr. Badger would pair us during the evaluation, so I consulted Sam, your previous partner. I was assigned to Simmons, though, so you and I only had the opportunity to fight casually.”

Ember looked up in surprise, meeting his keen gaze. Is he implying that he would have beaten me in a proper match?

“Did you meet our new instructor?” Lance interrupted, demonstrating surprising flexibility as he reached down to touch the toe of his boots. “What was she like?”

“Intimidating. She’s got these bristles that I think are poisonous, but I couldn’t deduce her species.”

“She’s a fireworm,” Jamarquis supplied. “I heard it from my roommate, who dropped out of this class last year.”

Ember tilted her head. If it was true, Ophelia was only the second vermes she had met, which explained why her mannerisms seemed so alien.

“Gather around!” someone called, and Ember looked up to see Ophelia herself in the center of the arena. She had been joined by a long-legged, muscled male fighter with features that seemed both canine and feline. The two swordsmen had finished their spar, leaving the white sand under their boots stained with blood.

The trainees pulled themselves to their feet, forming two lines. Ember followed along as they bowed, performed a salute, and then assumed a crouch position.

“Welcome to the intermediate class,” Ophelia said, pacing in front of them. “I see many familiar faces, but some new blood as well, which I hope will provide a challenge for our returning students. For the next month, you will meet here every other day promptly at eight in the morning, with the exception of the festival. I expect you to arrive in uniform and with your weapon of choice.”

She gestured to the wall, where a wiry man was tending to the swordsmen’s weapons, which had been dirtied during their spar. “If you have not already, you must meet with the resident armorer to have a protective coating fitted to the blade of your weapon. Those of you without defensive mutations should also consider selecting a set of armor. I want all of you in peak condition, which means minimizing unnecessary injuries this season.”

A handful of the returning students grimaced, and Ember shot Jisu a glance. What happened before we joined?

“Now, are there any questions before I continue?” Ophelia asked.

Lance raised his hand. “Excuse me, but what is the meaning of the markings on your arm?”

One of the older trainees muttered something under his breath, evidently finding the remark amateurish, and Lance blushed with embarrassment. Ember looked to Ophelia, hoping she would provide an answer.

“Good question,” the instructor commented, glaring firmly at the student who had spoken out of turn. “Both the intermediate and advanced classes are divided into three levels, represented by a band. You can be promoted to the next level only at my discretion. As you can see, I have six bands, as I have progressed through both classes in their entirety. I also have this pair of wings, which classifies me as one of the top fifty rankers.”

“Wow,” Lance said quietly, and Ember silently echoed the sentiment. The designation meant that she was, at the very minimum, in the top twelve percent of rankers.

“Now, as you may have noticed, my physiology is similar to that of a pinecone,” she continued amiably. “This means that demonstrating skills can be a challenge. Therefore, I will have two assistant instructors to assist me. Michael,” she indicated the carnivore at her right, “is one of them. The other, unfortunately, is late.”

Just as the words left her mouth, the entrance to the training arena swung open. A male Linnaean was framed in the doorway, his impressive wings nearly scraping the ground as he strode toward the group.

Oh no. Ember’s stomach churned, and she leaned forward, hoping that she was mistaken. Please, god, no…

“Here he is, finally. My other assistant and a new ranker, Roland Raiford!”