Spending the day in the library would have been a lifelong dream, but the presence of annoying people made the experience anything but pleasant. Ember sat at a small table, a stack of books covering the drawing paper from prying eyes. She glided her pencil across the page, sketching the hall of an ancient palace with crystal stalactites hanging from the ceiling and a woman in purple armor pointing her sword at a twisted dragon.

The voices around her, however, distracted her. As did the smell of incense. The librarian, Mr. Miles, liked to light scented candles on the counter by the entrance. Despite the wide open windows, the smell lingered between the shelves.

It had never seemed like a good idea to Ember; candles and books were a potentially problematic mix. One day she had tried to approach Mr. Miles and ask him if he had ever thought about it, about the possible complications, but he had only given her a sidelong glance from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Ember had lost her courage and returned to the bookcase. She had watched as the shelves slid past her until they came to a halt.

She stopped her hand, pencil gripped tightly between her fingers, to take a good look at the drawing. The face of the woman in armor was familiar. Piercing eyes, sharp features.

You drew your Sergeant, you idiot.

Her father was right. Without meaning to, Ember had let Sergeant Ferun sneak into her drawings as well. With a sigh, she put her pencil down on the table and leaned against the backrest.

"Did you hear? Some guy had the nerve to call Sergeant Ferun a spinster in front of her."

Ember strained her ears. A girl gesticulated as she told her friends about the matter. They were all huddled around a large table next to the shelf of books on military strategy. However, they didn't seem very interested in the subject, at least not as much as gossip.

"No way! Is he crazy?" another girl with short blue hair giggled.

"I swear he did. And she, oh, if she could have killed him with one look, I think she would have."

In an environment of teenagers frustrated by stifling training, gossip was always around the corner. And no one lent herself better to possible theories and rumors than a woman of the Sergeant's closed and rigid character. They said all sorts of things about her: that she was a lesbian, that she was frigid, that she lived alone in an empty house with thirty cats, that she actually had sadomasochistic tendencies and kept a whip in her closet…

Ember crossed her legs under the table. The Sergeant's face stared at the dragon in the drawing with determination.

Such a strong woman, yet people liked to tease her. Who knows if the Sergeant was alone? Who knows if she was aware of all those rumors, if they passed her by as smoothly as she seemed to show, or if the seeds of a slimy and treacherous hatred took root in her heart.

The other girls continued to talk among themselves. Ember ignored them: She didn’t want their prejudices to affect her as well. She picked up her pencil again and began to shade the woman's armor.

Her leg still hurt. The nurse had put ointment on it that morning to cool the burn, but it hadn’t helped. Or maybe Ember complained too much. She needed to learn to deal with pain better. What soldier would spend their days doing nothing in the library because of a silly wound like that?

"Nice drawing." A voice beside her made her jump. Her heart beat wildly and she threw herself at the drawing, covering it with her own body.

Lieutenant Alpes gave her an amused smile. With his hair bright red and his uniform neatly straightened, he sat on the edge of the table, his leg dangling.

"Uh, good morning, Lieutenant," Ember muttered. She brushed her hair back, hoping he would mistake the rosy hue of her skin for an effect of the light.

"It's almost evening, Ember. But good morning to you, too." He tapped her shoulder.

Ember stiffened at the contact. The scar hidden under her shirt lit up like a torch, illuminating memories of a sparkling glass bottle in the living room and her father's yelling. She pushed back her chair, only a few millimeters, the drawing tight against her chest.

"I hear you played a pivotal role in the success of the mission," he said, his cadence almost a chant. "A tragedy indeed. I grieve for all those you lost."

Ember nodded, silently. Alpes smiled, and though it was not an amused smile, but rather an attempt to appear sympathetic, it struck her as suspicious. What kind of person would smile while talking about the deaths of young cadets? But that was not enough to suspect him, was it?

"Yeah, I was just trying to do something," she muttered. "It was more Sergeant Ferun's doing, though."

"Interesting. She says otherwise." Alpes got off the table. He patted his pants to remove some non-existent dust.

"Oh, uh, really?" She pressed the drawing closer to her chest. As if this measly piece of paper was enough to cover the deafening noise of her heart.

Alpes hummed. "Lightara is a... difficult woman, but she is not evil. Despite the legend that she is responsible for the disappearance of innocent cadets."

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Ember smiled, thumbs tapping on the back of the drawing. "There is no such legend."

"Well, no, not yet. But I wouldn't be surprised if it surfaced sooner or later."

Lightara. Hardly anyone called Sergeant Ferun by name, not even their superiors. Ember felt a pang of jealousy: what if Lieutenant Alpes was closer to her than she thought? Maybe there was something between them.

Fool. What do you care, huh? It's not like you stand a chance anyway.

Ember let the smile fade. She put the paper down on the table and turned so that Alpes couldn’t see the drawing. "Is there another reason you’re talking to me, Lieutenant?" She did not want to sound harsh, but it wasn’t easy to contain the bitterness that filled her palate.

"Actually, yes. I was thinking of summoning you to my office in the next few days, but I'm here now." Alpes scratched his chin, where a hint of a beard colored his skin red. "You see, I've noticed that you're very lonely. And in one way that's good, a soldier has to know how to take care of themselves. But you know, a soldier also knows when to rely on their comrades."

Of course. She wasn't surprised at all. Using the excuse of the good soldier who knows how to work in a team didn’t make this speech new.

Ember dug her nails into her arm. What did he expect her to say? 'Yes, you’re right, Lieutenant. From now on, I'm going to stop acting like I’m better than anoyone and letting my comrades make fun of me’?

"I'm sorry," she said instead.

"It's not a rebuke." Alpes touched her shoulder again. She closed her eyes and prayed with every ounce of herself the images to let her go. "I'm just concerned. You're a good cadet, it’d be a shame if this little inconvenience kept you from finding your true potential."

"I know, I'll try to socialize more."

An outright lie she had repeated for years. No one ever believed it, but it was usually enough to convince others to stop lecturing her.

Alpes glanced at the girls gossiping at the other table. "Or you could go over there and join them right now. What would it cost you?"

Ember held her breath, her shoulders hunched. She imagined how it would go: her, in silence, hands on her lap, listening to the sound of her own blood boiling in her veins as those girls' prejudices filled her with questions about herself. If it had been a possibility, she certainly would not have needed Alpes to think about it.

"Uhm, I…"

"Come on, what harm can it do you? Try it, you'll see it’s going to be fun." He took her arm. Ember stiffened and recoiled instinctively. Alpes grabbed her again and made her stand.

Her leg lost strength. The burn under the bandage sent a sting so strong it blurred her vision. Ember clung to the table to keep from falling; Alpes tilted his head to look at her, a question mark in his eyes. Ember shook her head.

"I'm fine."

Alpes walked her to the table with the other girls. There were four of them, Ember knew their names. Four pairs of eyes were on her. She could hear their judgments loud and clear in her mind.

"Excuse me, girls. Is it a problem if Ember joins you?"

"No, of course not," Alicia replied. She turned her attention from Ember to her companions, as if preparing to pretend that Ember was just a ghost.

"See? Easy." Alpes put his hand on her back, pushing her toward the empty chair. When Ember sat down, he nodded contentedly and walked away humming.

He felt that he had done his duty as an adult, that he had helped a person in need. Ember squeezed the fabric of her pants between her fingers: what bothered her more, the idea that he had used her as a way to feel better about himself, or the fact that he considered her a person in need? She couldn’t say.

She recognized Viola, beside her, with a large bandage on her cheek. Her face was swollen and she tried to cover the wound with her long dark hair. Across from them, Ciel laughed at Alicia's words and touched her arm from time to time. Teresa was eating dried bananas.

"Don't you find the Lieutenant charming?" Alicia asked, a mischievous smile on her face.

Ember raised her eyebrows. Was she serious? Alpes? That nosy?

"Oh yeah," Teresa replied. "He's a cool guy. I was thinking of asking him to give me some reps, if you know what I mean." She giggled.

Perhaps Ember shouldn’t have judged. What did she know about men, after all?

She waved her feet under the table a bit before the pain in her leg forced her to stop. Who knew if Sergeant Ferun found Alpes charming. The thought crossed her mind for a moment, but once it had its way, Ember had no idea how to push it back. A weight on her chest crushed her.

Please, not Alpes.

Would it make any difference to you if it were someone else?

"No, don't be silly." Viola flicked her hand through the air. It interrupted Ember's flood of thoughts. "General Phoenix, that's a hottie."

Ciel leaned back on the seat, one hand in her blue hair. "Can't compete with him, I agree. He's just another level."

"I prefer Alpes," Alicia chimed in, and Teresa agreed.

Ember closed her eyes in a silent curse. Two against two. She knew what that meant: this was the moment they suddenly remembered her existence.

It was Ciel who pointed at her. "You, Ember? Who do you vote for? Who do you think is the coolest?"

They all tensed up, waiting for her answer. Ember opened her lips, but no sound came out. Should she be honest or give them the answer they wanted to hear? Which group was convenient for her to please, Ciel and Viola or Alicia and Teresa?

She wasn't ready to admit her sexuality. Giving the bullies another reason to despise her didn’t seem like a good idea.

"Uh… General Phoenix," she finally muttered.

Ciel slammed her palm down on the table. "See? Three to two, Phoenix earns the title of hottest superior."

The others muttered something. Ember didn't even listen to them: she put her head in her hands, elbows on the table, and counted the seconds until this agony would end.