Arin’s first morning with the resistance began abruptly and unpleasantly. Kaelith kicked open the door to his cramped room, a smirk plastered across her face.
“Up and at ‘em, hero,” she said, tossing a bundle of clothes onto his bed. “We’ve got a lot to cover, and you’re already late.”
Arin groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “Can’t a guy get five more minutes?”
“Sure,” Kaelith said, leaning against the doorframe. “If you don’t mind the Crestborne dragging you out of bed. I hear they’ve stepped up their patrols.”
That got his attention. Arin sat up, glaring at her. “Fine. I’m up. What’s so important that it can’t wait?”
Kaelith’s smirk widened. “Your education.”
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The safe house had more rooms than Arin had expected, though most were as shabby as his own. Kaelith led him to a large, open chamber at the building’s center. The walls were lined with weapons, maps, and various tools of dubious legality. A group of people milled about, sharpening blades, studying documents, or sparring in a makeshift ring.
“Welcome to the heart of the operation,” Kaelith said, spreading her arms theatrically. “This is where the magic happens. Figuratively and literally.”
Arin’s gaze was drawn to a corner of the room, where a woman was inscribing glowing runes onto a piece of parchment. The air around her shimmered faintly, and Arin felt the same hum of energy he’d noticed from the shard.
“Who’s she?” he asked.
“Tahlia,” Kaelith said. “Our resident mage. She’s the reason we haven’t been caught yet. Her wards keep this place hidden.”
“Good to know,” Arin muttered.
Kaelith led him to a long table where the bearded man from the previous night was waiting. He nodded at Arin, his expression as stern as ever.
“You ready to learn?” he asked.
“Depends on what we’re learning,” Arin replied.
The man chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound. “Fair enough. Let’s start with introductions. Name’s Roderic. I run things around here. Kaelith tells me you’ve got a knack for survival. We’ll see if that’s true.”
“No pressure,” Arin said dryly.
Roderic ignored the sarcasm. “Today, we’re going to cover the basics: evasion, subterfuge, and, if we have time, a little hand-to-hand combat. You’ll need all three if you’re going to survive out there.”
Arin groaned inwardly. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the prospect of physical exertion, but he knew Roderic was right.
“Fine,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”
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The first lesson was evasion, which involved navigating a series of obstacles while avoiding detection. Kaelith led Arin to a section of the safe house that had been converted into a training course. The room was filled with crates, barrels, and hanging sheets that created a maze of shadows and hiding spots.
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“The rules are simple,” Kaelith said. “Get from one end of the room to the other without being seen. I’ll be watching.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Arin said.
Kaelith’s grin was downright predatory. “We’ll see about that.”
As Arin moved into the course, he quickly realized it wasn’t as simple as it looked. The hanging sheets cast confusing shadows, and Kaelith had an uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere. More than once, he’d duck behind a crate only to find her standing on top of it, arms crossed and smirking.
“You’re too loud,” she said after his third failed attempt. “And you’re thinking like a scavenger. Stop looking for places to hide and start looking for paths to move.”
Arin bit back a retort and tried again. This time, he focused on staying low and moving quickly, keeping his eyes on the far end of the room. When he finally made it through without being caught, Kaelith gave him a rare nod of approval.
“Not bad,” she said. “For a beginner.”
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Next came subterfuge. Roderic handed Arin a set of lockpicks and directed him to a series of locked boxes.
“These are standard Crestborne locks,” Roderic explained. “You’ll find them on doors, chests, and occasionally manacles. If you can pick these, you’ll have a fighting chance out there.”
Arin examined the lockpicks, frowning. “What if I’ve never picked a lock before?”
Roderic’s expression didn’t change. “Then you’d better learn fast.”
The first box took Arin nearly ten minutes to open, during which Kaelith helpfully reminded him of how slow he was. By the time he’d unlocked the fourth box, his fingers were cramping, but his time had improved significantly.
“Not bad,” Roderic said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve got steady hands. That’ll come in handy.”
“Great,” Arin muttered. “I’ll add ‘lockpicker’ to my impressive resume.”
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The final lesson of the day was combat. Kaelith handed Arin a wooden staff and led him to the sparring ring.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” she said, spinning her own staff with practiced ease.
Arin hesitated. He wasn’t a fighter by nature, and the idea of going up against Kaelith didn’t exactly inspire confidence. But he knew there was no backing out.
The first few exchanges were humbling. Kaelith moved like a dancer, her strikes quick and precise. Arin barely managed to block most of them, and when he tried to counter, she easily sidestepped his attacks.
“You’re telegraphing,” she said, dodging another swing. “I can see every move coming from a mile away.”
“Maybe because you’re cheating,” Arin shot back, his breath coming in short gasps.
Kaelith laughed. “Oh, you’re adorable.”
By the end of the session, Arin was sore, bruised, and thoroughly humbled. But he’d also learned a few things—like how to use his speed to his advantage and how to anticipate his opponent’s moves.
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That evening, as Arin sat by the fire nursing his bruises, Roderic approached him.
“You did good today,” he said, handing Arin a mug of something warm and bitter.
“I feel like I got hit by a cart,” Arin muttered.
Roderic chuckled. “That’s how you know it’s working.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling between them. Finally, Roderic spoke again.
“You’ve got potential, kid. More than you realize. But potential doesn’t mean much if you don’t use it.”
Arin glanced at the shard, which sat on the table nearby. Its faint glow seemed almost comforting now, like a beacon in the dark.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” he said quietly.
“None of us did, but we’re here now,” Roderic replied, his voice steady. “The world doesn’t wait for us to be ready, Arin. It’s up to you to decide what you’ll do with the hand you’ve been dealt.”
Arin stared into the fire, the weight of Roderic’s words settling over him. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was a part of him—a small, defiant spark—that didn’t want to let the world win. If he was going to survive this, he’d need more than luck and scavenger instincts. He’d need to fight back.
Tomorrow would come too soon, but for now, he allowed himself a moment of rest, the flickering flames casting shadows that danced like specters of the battles yet to come.