The sky was still dark. Ember appeared in front of the Academy wearing a simple, loose, dark t-shirt and a pair of comfortable pants. Ferun was waiting for her outside the entrance, her attention focused on the sky. If she had to describe her in one word, Ember would have called her scared. Behind her gaze, she recognised the same wounded wolf, licking its tail and cowering, hoping for another world. A world where that wolf was strong enough.

Stop projecting your thoughts onto her. She is not like you. You are not like her.

Ember walked down the steps, her head down. Whether her father was right or not, it was obvious that Ferun was not well. Perhaps because of Mark and all the other cadets who blamed her for the outcome of the mission. For the death of all those cadets.

Perhaps even a woman as strong as Lightara suffered under the weight of others' words.

The Sergeant noticed her arrival and gave her a brief nod of greeting. "You're early."

Ember pulled her hair back with her hand, savouring the cool morning breeze. "Really?"

"By three minutes."

She wanted to laugh, but pressed her lips together to restrain herself. Ferun's strange fixation with punctuality was almost comical. Just showing up a minute before the appointed time was enough to win her approval and a more positive overall mood. Sometimes Ember had dragged herself out of bed and kicked her butt just to get to training camp a little earlier than the other cadets. Anything to get a modicum of approval.

You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re an ass kisser.

The Sergeant tightened the belt that held her shirt to her waist, hugging her body and preventing it from fluttering. She looked out over the fields of lilies to the clump of trees that foreshadowed the city. The ocean and beach were not visible from the Academy, but Ember imagined the waves crashing against the shore in their calm rhythm. "First, we run all the way to the city. Follow me."

Ferun broke into a run without further warning. Ember stood dumbfounded for a few seconds, watching the Sergeant's confident, plush pace as she left her behind.

Stop drooling and run, you dork.

Oh, yeah. Yeah, she needed to get a move on.

Ignoring the blush on her face, Ember trotted to catch up with the other woman. She remained at her side, her gaze fixed on the ground. She had hoped for a training session on sword techniques or perhaps how to better control Lumen, certainly not a simple run. She could have done it alone, couldn't she?

But she didn't voice her doubts aloud. She trusted Ferun, and if the best thing to do was to blow her away in a run, then she would do it. The road to Bethus wasn't a short one, and certainly not a comfortable one. Only a small path snaked through the untouched vegetation, connecting the Academy with the city. It was usually a good idea not to walk alone, given the large number of wild animals that roamed the area in search of prey, especially in spring and summer.

As they progressed, the trees grew taller and thicker. The foliage darkened the sky, plunging the world into a gloomy atmosphere. The humidity was high; Ember felt sweat dripping down her forehead and back. It was as if she was moving with sticky arms that clung to her and tried to push her down. She started panting almost immediately. Her legs struggled to get off the ground, anchored by an invisible weight.

Ferun, on the other hand, ran gracefully, leaping over the huge roots that sprouted from the ground without ever losing momentum. Ember followed as best she could, heart pumping blood at breakneck speed. These few days without training had turned her into a wimp.

"Keep up," Ferun told her. She turned her head to make sure Ember was there. She didn't slow down or wait for her, but carried on as if nothing was wrong.

It's your problem if you can't keep up with her.

You can't expect her to hold your hand.

Ember quickened her pace to catch up. She concentrated on her breathing. Air came in through her nose. And out through her mouth. It went in through her nose. And out through her mouth.

But she still felt like she wasn't getting enough. She wasn't used to running so fast.

As if that were not enough, every sound, every little creature that stirred the leaves or bushes, made her jump. Ember couldn't stop looking around, searching for lurking threats.

"Velanthras only attack when they are hungry." Ferun's voice broke the tension. Her calm and confidence were a balm to Ember's growing fear.

"But if they're hungry, they won't have as much trouble," she replied, panting.

"True. But it's almost summer. The woods are full of easier prey than us."

It made sense. But the fear didn't subside. "What if there's one loser left who's had its lunch stolen by others?"

You really want to look like a pussy, don't you?

Ferun gave her an indecipherable look. After endless seconds of silence, she said, "That means it won't be hard to take it down if it's such a loser.

This made her smile. Ember nodded, and although the anxiety still made her feel like she was being watched all the time, she managed to keep it at bay.

The Sergeant led her along the beaten path. On the ground, perpendicular to the path, crawled a strange, raised patch of earth. The roots seemed to be avoiding it, spreading out as if it were an impassable wall. Staring at it, Ember felt an awl in her head.

"Valestri Lines," Ferun said.

"Are they still there? I thought they were all drained after the Great War with the Ysnians."

"Most of them. But this wood was once sacred, stagnant with magic. Despite everything, some of that energy remained."

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Ember imagined the kingdom of Valestria as it had once been, when magic still flowed freely. A world where people had to build according to the flow of the Valestri Lines, building their lives around those clods of earth, filled with energy like the roots of a tree. Nature had ruled, before the Ysnians had attacked. Valestria had to harness every bit of the earth's energy to fight the invasion.

They had succeeded, but the kingdom had lost its ancient magic.

Despite her shortness of breath, talking helped to distract her from her fatigue, so Ember ventured another question. "Was this a sacred wood?"

"It was one of the greatest concentrations of the Valestri Lines. It was home to many creatures once considered sacred. Like the Velanthras."

Ember frowned. Velanthras were vicious, ugly beasts; she found it hard to understand how they could be considered sacred.

Ferun must have understood her doubt, because she let out a half-snort that turned into a sneer. "When magic existed, they were different. They shone and had superior intelligence. It is said that some of them could understand and speak human language."

"Is it normal that this makes them seem even more creepy?"

The Sergeant snorted again. The sneer became a half smile. "Let's just say I'm glad I'll never have to meet one."

The conversation ended there, but Ember followed in a better mood. Her lungs were screaming at her to take a break and she was breathing almost raggedly. But she wasn't going to give up. She would not give up. With every tree she passed, she promised herself that she only had to hold on for a few more steps and she would stop. But then she wouldn't, she wouldn't stop. And she kept going until she could take no more.

The woods remained dark. The humidity made her feel trapped in a heavy water bubble. The city remained far away, the path always the same, promising an eternity of endless running.

She began to slow down. Until her legs gave out and she was forced to stop. She pressed her hands to her knees, panting obsessively. No matter how much air she took in, her lungs could never get enough.

Pathetic. I told you you wouldn't make it.

Ferun stopped immediately and took a few steps back to face her. "Breathe. You must learn to control your breathing better."

Ember didn't dare look at her. She kept her eyes down, staring at the worms crawling on the ground. "I know. I'm sorry."

The Sergeant said nothing, let her recover without talking. The blue eyes remained on her, though. Ember just wanted to disappear.

You're wasting her time.

"I'm sorry," she murmured later, again.

"I don't need your apology, I need a soldier with more stamina."

Ember nodded as a hand stirred her insides. She opened her mouth to apologise again, but closed it when she realised it would only make her look more ridiculous. She leaned against the bark of a tree beside her. Now that she had stopped, she realised that she could barely feel her legs. She'd run too hard for too long; it wasn't her pace. She had not been able to keep it up.

The Sergeant let out a big sigh and gave her back. With a hand on her hip, she lifted her head to look at the foliage. "I've noticed it since the first day you came to the Academy."

Ember didn't understand. She stood there like an idiot for a few seconds. "What?"

"You have more determination than most. The problem is you're not running towards a goal." She turned to look at her again. "It's like you're running away from something."

It was strange. It wasn't unusual for Ember to feel naked in front of someone, for others to see clearly what she had tried so hard to hide. She still remembered how she had felt when Jason had seen her.

But this time it was different. Ferun didn't attack her, didn't use her weakness to attack or mock her.

Ember wrapped her arms around her body. "It's what I've always done," she admitted.

Her life had been a constant flight from something. From her past. From her father. From herself.

Ferun raised a palm. A dark-winged butterfly sat on her fingers. "You don't have to do your best to prove something to others." The butterfly flew up again, disappeared behind the bushes and landed on a flower with reddish petals. "Is it because of Mark Terris?"

She already knows you're a loser. There's no point in hiding it.

Ember stroked the bark with the tip of her index finger. Rough, yet firm. She wished she was like that, just like the bark. "Mark doesn't help," she admitted. "But it's not that."

She found her Sergeant a few steps away. Although Ferun appeared calm, she was dripping with sweat. Even she wasn't immune to the strain. "Why did you decide to become a soldier?"

A simple question. Ember had always given the answer her interlocutor wanted to hear. She had justified her choice in countless ways. All wrong. All nice words about home, about becoming an independent person: mirrors for the larks. Lies to avoid facing the truth.

In the Sergeant's eyes, however, she didn't find the right answer. The one Ferun would have liked to hear.

So Ember was left with only one option: to stare at her own reflection in the depths of that ocean.

"I wanted to run away." The other woman didn't interrupt her to ask for an explanation, didn't wrinkle her nose in disgust. She remained a blank canvas. "I wanted to run away. But I also hoped that I could become someone who could ... protect".

Like you never protected your mother, you mean?

Ember grabbed the flame-shaped pendant that hung around her neck. She pressed it to her chest. Admitting the truth left her naked, trembling and unarmed.

Dig a hole and wait to die. That's all you deserve.

What do you think she's going to say to you now?

You're pathetic. You'll never be able to protect anyone. You're incapable of anything.

She'll tell you to quit.

What soldier runs away like you do?

Ferun's hand rested on her shoulder. A sudden, gentle weight. It drove away all the voices. A gust of wind came up at the same moment, sending fallen flowers and tufts of grass flying. "We're all running from something," Ferun told her.

Ember gasped, her fingers loosening their grip on the pendant.

Everyone runs from something.

Even Lightara Ferun?

"But that's not all. You're not just running, Ember. You're fighting. Maybe in the wrong direction, but you fight every day."

The words tasted of light. They went inside her, shining a ray of sun into the dark cave where her father and Mark's minicopies were rented. Ember swallowed a lump in her throat. "Doens't feel like it to me," she muttered, hating the petulant sound of her own voice.

Ferun tilted her head sideways. She was close. The other cadets called her the Ice Queen, or any number of nicknames involving frost. But for the moment, all Ember felt from her was comfort. A soft warmth, the kind that did not burn and barely warmed, but never wavered. "You're here, aren't you?"

The Sergeant let her hand fall from her shoulder. Ember missed the touch immediately. "Let's go. You've had enough rest, we're not done yet." She resumed running, though at a less brisk pace.

Ember broke from the tree and followed her. A miniature version of Lightara Ferun watched her father and Mark from above, looking dismissive.

Keep fighting, she kept repeating.