Ember stretched both of her arms high above her head, breathing deeply. She closed her eyes, accessing her condition: she was terribly stiff, but the sharp pain that had plagued her for two weeks was now only a memory. Finally, twenty-one days after her fight with Freya, she had been cleared—provisionally—to participate in the intermediate class. The same was true for Ophelia’s other course, Practical Combat on Irregular Terrain, which would begin in earnest the following day.

“Feeling okay?” Lance asked, sitting down with both legs in front of him as he bent nimbly to touch his toes.

“Show-off,” Ember muttered, waving a hand at him. Being injured had been an agonizing experience, and she couldn’t help but feel like she had wasted time that could have been used to grow stronger.

Voices near the entrance of the training hall caught Ember’s attention, and she turned, doing a double-take as she registered a familiar face. There, dressed in her full uniform, was someone Ember hadn’t seen since the night of the solstice: her training partner, Jisu.

Ember leaped to her feet. Jisu was speaking with Ophelia, both women surrounded by a small group of curious classmates. “Congratulations,” the instructor was saying. “I’m impressed, Jisu, that is quite an accomplishment for someone your age.”

Jisu bowed. “Even so, forgive me for my absence. I will train harder to make up for the time I missed.”

Ophelia laughed, waving her bristly hand. “Worry not; I know that the month you spent was far more valuable.”

Jisu thanked her, and then, she caught Ember’s look. She shrugged off the other students’ inquiries, clasping Ember’s forearm in a fighter’s greeting. “Are you well?” she asked, looking over Ember. “I heard about your injuries in the… uh… moose attack.”

Ember said nothing, instead taking in Jisu’s appearance. The woman in front of her had changed so much in a month that she wondered if it was even the same person: her manner of speech had matured, her body exuded health, and she wore a calm, self-assured expression.

“Jisu, where were you?” Ember asked, taken aback.

The panther glanced around. “I’ll tell you about it after class, I promise.”

Ember nodded uneasily, now more curious than before. Before she could question Jisu further, however, Ophelia called for the class to begin.

As they executed a quick warm-up routine, led by Michael, Ophelia called for the students’ attention. “It has now been a month since we accepted our newest recruits,” she began. “Thus, I believe it’s time to prepare for our first evaluation of the year, which will be held in two weeks’ time. This is your opportunity to ascend to the next level and earn your first, second, or third armbands. Two of you,” she looked pointedly at the most senior students, “are also eligible to take the entrance exam for the advanced class.

“These tests are voluntary. Participating will assess your abilities, but it will be strenuous and can cause injury, so should not be taken lightly. The test will have three parts: a fitness exam and a spar with and without a weapon.”

Ember frowned. She hadn’t expected the first evaluation to come soon after her fight with Freya—though she was confident that she was able to move up in level, she was still far from peak performance. Even so, the chance to test didn’t come often, and she did not intend to let it slip through her fingers.

When the warmup concluded, the class split into pairs in order to run weapon drills. Ember and Jisu instinctively sought each other out, settling into the familiar position across from each other on the training floor.

Ember’s heart raced in her chest as both women unsheathed their weapons: Ember her fang knife, and Jisu her short sword. The drill was an unstructured one—one partner would be on offense and the other on defense, and the offensive opponent would be allowed five attacks to attempt to touch their partner’s body with their blade.

“You first,” Ember said, holding her knife in front of her sternum and feeling unreasonably nervous. Her formal weapon training was limited to Ophelia’s class, but as far as she knew, Jisu was in the same situation. At the very least, observing the panther first would allow her time to plot her own attacks.

Jisu shrugged, readying her stance. Ember held her knife firmly in her fist with the blade pointed upwards at an angle, an inflexible grip best suited for blocking.

In a smooth motion, Jisu sprang forward, slashing her sword in a downward arc from her shoulder to her opposite hip. Ember jerked back in surprise, the dulled tip of the blade barely missing her chest. Without pause, Jisu sidestepped and lunged, her arm extended in a stab. Instinctively, Ember parried, turning the knife downward and catching the strike on the flat of the blade.

Ember watched with rapt attention as Jisu retreated. There was a marked difference in her movements—they were quicker and harder to predict than before.

Spinning on the ball of her foot, Jisu attempted another slash, this time in an outwards rotation from the left side of her body to her right. From the apex of her strike, she sliced the sword downward, and Ember raised her blade to block again. This time, however, Jisu drew back her weapon so that its tip was behind her shoulder, bringing it back down in an attack that caught Ember just above the knee.

Even with the blade dulled, the strike smarted, bringing pinpricks of blood to the surface of Ember’s skin. Ember touched the spot gingerly, berating herself for overlooking Jisu’s feint. The panther had succeeded in making contact in only four strikes. Her sword allowed for greater reach, but that alone did not account for the difference between them—in fact, Ember had the sense that the balance of the fight had laid staunchly in Jisu’s favor since the beginning, like a mother cat that pretended to allow her cub to catch her unawares.

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“Ready yourself!” Jisu said, assuming the defensive position. Ember shook her head, re-focusing her thoughts on her plan of attack. She changed her grip on the knife, holding it sideways to allow her to allow her greater flexibility.

She closed the distance between her and Jisu, raising her knife high above her head and attempting a downward slash. Again and again, her strikes found only air. Frustration built in Ember’s chest, and she huffed, narrowing her gaze. How is it that Jisu reacts to my every move? Is it my inexperience with the blade? Or my injuries?

When Ophelia called for the class to gather again, Ember’s skin and pride were bruised; the strike count had ended ten to six in Jisu’s favor. She pushed her blade unceremoniously into its sheath, anger bubbling to the surface.

“As usual, to finish our class, we’re going to watch some light spars, this time without weapons,” Ophelia said. “First up, let’s have Jisu and Jamarquis.”

Before she knew what she was doing, Ember was on her feet. “Let me fight instead,” she said.

The other trainees and Ophelia turned toward Ember, and she realized that her outburst had been discourteous. “Forgive me,” she said, “I’m just eager to resume sparring after my injuries.”

“Are you sure?” Ophelia asked, her brow furrowing in an expression that Ember hadn’t seen her wear before, a cross between disappointment and concern. “That may be too hasty.”

“Yes,” Ember said, slightly chagrined. She couldn’t back down now, especially when she had stolen someone else’s fight in front of her peers and rivals.

Ophelia turned to Jamarquis. “Are you okay with fighting Johanna instead?”

“That’s no problem,” the dragonfly shrugged, returning to his seat and shooting Ember a look of interest.

“I want to see a light spar,” Ophelia said, emphasizing the adjective. “I’ll stop the fight when I see fit.”

Ember’s eyes slid over to Jisu, who wore a bemused expression. She pushed one foot back and raised her fists to her cheeks, assuming her usual stance and feeling altogether more serious than was appropriate for an informal spar.

“Begin,” Ophelia commanded.

Ember swallowed unevenly. She sprang toward Jisu, her left fist drawn back for a punch. Jisu parried with a wave of her hand, directing her off-course. Then, the panther raised her heel for an axe kick, which Ember blocked, attempting to sweep her bottom leg out from under her.

The opponents were quickly locked into a lightning-fast dance of strikes and blocks. Ember tested a range of techniques, gauging the panther’s ability, and found that she had improved dramatically from their last spar: she was less impulsive, and she had adopted a new pattern of footwork that barely disturbed the sand beneath their feet.

When Ember activated her thermal vision, she found no weakness in Jisu’s heat signature: in fact, the panther was positively overflowing with vitality. As the fight stretched on, an unwelcome realization dawned upon her; at the moment, she and the cat were evenly matched. Ophelia let the fight continue as both opponents weakened with exhaustion, and soon Ember was gasping for breath, stirring the pain in her ribs.

Her nails dug into her palms, and she wanted to scream with frustration. I need to end this, now.

Without giving careful consideration to her actions, she closed the distance between her and Jisu, feigning a knee to the panther’s stomach. As Jisu lowered her arm to block, Ember raised an elbow, clocking her unceremoniously across the face.

It was an inappropriate, cheap move for a light spar, and Ember regretted it the moment Jisu groaned, a hand flying up to clutch her eye. “Sorry,” she murmured, reaching for her training partner.

“Stop,” Ophelia commanded. “Jisu, are you okay?”

Jisu uncovered her face, glancing at Ember with one eye half-shut. “Yes, I think it’s only a black eye.”

Ophelia faced Ember with a disapproving gaze. “Our end-of-class spars are to test your skills against each other,” she pointed out. “An elbow to the face is hardly refined, and if Jisu had wanted to execute such a brutish move, she had plenty of opportunities to do so before you.” She lowered her voice, speaking only to Ember. “See me after class.”

Ember groaned internally, ashamed and feeling the heavy weight of the other trainees’ judgemental stares. She found her place at the back of the group, sitting with her back hunched. She needed to apologize sincerely to Jisu, undoubtedly, but now was not the time—she had involved her personal business in class enough for one day.

When the other spars concluded, the students gathered their bags and weapons, eager to return home. During the morning classes, it was typical for groups of students to remain behind to sharpen their weapons, consult Ophelia, or spar together, but their weariness shone through in the evening.

The room was nearly empty when Ember approached Ophelia, bowing her head. “I know my actions today were unbecoming of a warrior,” she said. “I will apologize to Jisu immediately.”

Ophelia sighed, looking at her without malice. “I know, Ember. Mistakes happen, especially in the heat of battle. That’s not why I asked to speak with you privately.”

Ember blinked, confused. “Then why?”

“What is your reason for training?” Ophelia asked gently.

Ember paused, remembering when Corax had asked her a similar question. “To become stronger,” she said. As always, her mind went to her father, who was being watched in Ciradyl even as they spoke. “I need to protect my family.”

“I thought that might be the case. But if your goal is simply to protect your loved ones, then why were you threatened by Jisu’s progress today?”

Ember stared at her instructor. She had a point—Ember had been unreasonably competitive with Jisu if rescuing her father was her only goal. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.

“Ember, have you considered the fact that you might enjoy fighting? Not causing others pain, but the physical and mental challenge of self-advancement?”

Ember looked down at her bloodied knuckles. Had training become something more than a means to an end for her? If so, when? She thought back to the satisfaction of successfully landing her first hit; to the pride in passing Mr. Badger’s evaluations; to the sweet relief when training banished the lingering trauma from the margay; to the thrilling sensation of discovery when she and Marcus had bent over her notes, strategizing.

She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. She was hungry to climb the ranks, to hone her skills until she surpassed Roland and anyone else who dared to threaten her.

“Nature is, at its core, a competition for survival,” Ophelia explained, “in which predators such as yourself must kill or be killed. But be careful, because the desire for power can easily become all-consuming, convincing you to fall prey to shortcuts such as forgoing the treatment.”

Ember nodded. “What should I do?”

“You’ve grown fast, but your foundation is unstable. Go back to the basics, and practice controlling your instinct before it controls you.”

Ember looked at the sand beneath her feet. Again, Ophelia was right, without even knowing the details of her previous fights—in her desperation, she could have killed Freya had her venom been developed. “Thank you,” she said, “I understand.”