Connor sat alone in one of the many corridors inside the palace with his head in his hands.

This had been his chance to walk a path that would grant him the power to seek out his parents and find what happened to them. His path to revenge and retribution.

And he’d failed.

It was like a knife to his heart.

When his magic had appeared, he’d thought it was a sign of what he was meant to do. A way out of this life. A way to get the vengeance he so desperately craved.

But, clearly, he was wrong.

His memory of his parents was little more than a blur, but he knew that they loved him. That he was happy. And, that he missed them.

Besides, they were his family, and they’d been taken from him! How could he just sit back and do nothing the way Victor did? How could he care about corrupt nobles, or anything in Vigil when the ones who’d taken his parents from him walked freely?

He squeezed his hands into fists in his hair. If only his magic would just work! Every time he tried to use it, it was like he was straining against some invisible weight and now this?

Sunlight streamed in through the windows and onto his leather boots.

Great. After waiting for Elgar, and going through that stupid test, he was running late.

He let out a ragged sigh and got to his feet.

“Just what I needed,” he muttered.

He wasn’t in the mood for more training for a life he didn’t want, but making his uncle angry with him would only make this day worse.

He started on the long walk back to his uncle’s manor, through the now bustling hallways of the palace.

Despite already being late, and far away he didn't rush.

His excitement from earlier had soured into the bitter taste of defeat. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d failed the test, he just had to enrage the city’s head wizard. Now no wizard in all of Vigil would teach him.

At least he hadn’t been turned into a frog, he thought bitterly.

The manor was a large building of cleanly cut stone and polished wood. It looked every bit like a wealthy noble’s manor on the outside, but the inside was filled with training equipment and the office of the city’s spymaster, Victor.

Connor felt like a dark cloud hung over him as he approached, and his thoughts turned increasingly bitter.

Victor was a master of secrecy, deception, and misdirection. He tried to pass it on to Connor, but in the end, as talented as Connor was, he had no desire to live the life his uncle did.

He wanted friends, not assets.

A lithe figure leaned against the manor door. Dark fabric and leather armor covered her from head to toe, leaving only her intense violet eyes visible.

Despite having her whole body covered, it was easy to tell she was a woman as her clothes and tight-fitting armor hugged every sensual curve.

She radiated danger, and anyone would avoid her on an instinctual level like a mouse would avoid a cat.

If they noticed her that was.

Even the royalty didn't come near her and left managing her to Victor. She was the top royal assassin, and one of his best friends.

"Yeah, I know I'm late," Connor said.

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Her violet eyes narrowed as she looked him over. "Victor is not amused," she said.

He followed her inside the manor and Victor appeared from around a corner.

"Glad you could condescend to grace us with your presence," Victor said.

"Sorry, uncle," Connor said half-heartedly.

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your sparring partner. She's been waiting for hours," Victor said.

Connor winced.

He never could beat Adelia in a sparring match, and after making her wait for so long, he was in for a brutal beating.

It seemed today was destined to be terrible.

They walked to the sparring room, and he couldn’t stop wishing that he’d passed that damnable test.

The sparring room was huge. Easily the size of a warehouse and the biggest room in the manor. In it, was every type of weapon and training area imaginable, including a variety of different terrains.

Adelia moved toward the sandbox, and Connor shuddered.

It was a square box, measuring thirteen-meters on each side with a border of dark, polished wood covered in glowing runes that trapped all the sand within the box.

Whenever somebody left the box, any sand on them would slide off as if trapped by an invisible screen.

Victor liked a clean home, and this was his expensive solution.

The sand helped to cushion the impact from falls and to soak up blood. Yet, despite the countless sparring sessions, the sand remained spotless.

Connor tried not to think about what exactly it did with the blood it collected.

That she selected it meant that he was going to spend most of his time on the floor groaning in pain.

Victor stood on the sideline ready to observe and critique Connor.

Adelia tossed a quarterstaff to Connor. He caught it with practiced ease and stepped onto the sand.

He took a defensive stance, hoping to at least reduce the beating he was about to receive.

Adelia entered an aggressive attack stance, as she almost always did. Her violet eyes the only part of her visible, as she stood motionless.

He always wished she would take off the cloth mask that covered her face.

Never being able to see her expressions was unsettling. It also made it nearly impossible to read her.

He steadied his breathing, doing his best to clear his thoughts.

Without warning, Adelia sprang forward in a blur of motion.

He blocked her attack and countered.

She swatted his feeble counter aside with ease before dropping to her knees and spinning her staff into the back of his legs.

He landed hard on his back, and his breath left his lungs in a whoosh.

He groaned. Who’d decided this sand was soft to land on?

“What are you doing? Get up. You've wasted enough of our time already,” Victor yelled from the sidelines.

Connor gritted his teeth and climbed to his feet. He entered a defensive posture again.

Adelia circled him like a shark, before dashing toward him with a speed far superior to anyone he’d ever met.

Her movements were fluid, graceful, and as swift as the wind.

He struggled to block her attacks as she pressured him harder and harder.

She hit his fingers, sending a shock of pain through his hand. His staff slipped from his grip. She spun and kicked him squarely in the stomach.

He flew through the air and landed in a heap. He clutched his aching fingers and hugged his stomach as he gasped breathlessly.

“Come on Connor! On your feet! Your enemy doesn't care how much it hurts!" Victor shouted.

Connor ground his teeth as his uncle’s words only fanned the flames of anger in his heart.

Adelia was his friend, but he was starting to hate her as she repeatedly beat him. After the morning he’d had, she could at least take it easy on him.

They continued to spar, though he wasn't sure if it could be called that with how one-sided it was.

His fingers had turned blue-black from where she’d struck him earlier. His stomach had settled down, but since then she’d hit him on his shoulders, legs, chest and even his back.

His entire body throbbed with pain.

He glared at Adelia as he stood up on shaking legs after another hard knock to the ground.

He spat blood onto the sand.

She was supposed to be his friend, yet she was beating him mercilessly, and he hated her for it.

"What are you glaring at her for?" his uncle said, "she's been taking it easy on you from the start. Maybe you should glare at yourself and focus!”

Connor turned his glare to his uncle before returning his attention to Adelia.

His anger had been building since the meeting with the wizard earlier had gone so horribly wrong, and now he had been getting steadily beaten by Adelia.

He was distracted, but he refused to believe that she was taking it easier than normal. After being pounded on for so long, his temper was at the point where he couldn't focus on being defensive anymore.

He wanted her to feel some of the pain he was experiencing for once, so he switched to an aggressive stance.

His mind was filled with rage, pain, and disappointment as he charged at her, and swung hard.

She deftly swatted it aside and counterattacked with precision, landing a solid hit on his already bruised shoulder.

He grunted but continued to attack. He wanted to land a solid hit at least once.

She swatted his attacks aside and counterattacked each time. Her staff connected over, and over sending shocks of pain through his body each time, and further infuriating him until he was charging at her in a blind rage.

He swung down hard at her. She sidestepped out of the way and smashed her staff into his side.

He spun through the air and landed hard in the sand again. He groaned between ragged breaths. Pain throbbed in every inch of his body. It hurt just to breathe.

"If you can't be bothered to focus on your training then you may as well have not shown up," said Victor, "you're only wasting everyone's time."