Water always cleansed her thoughts. The horror at the prospect of infiltrating the Colonel's study? Vaporized. The fear of not finding the drawing after returning to the bank to look for it? Gone. Her father's complaints about how pathetic she was? Dissipated.

Yet a slimy, disgusting creature still crawled beneath her skin. It gave her sudden rushes of adrenaline, accompanied by the urge to hit something. And every time she imagined that something, it was Mark's idiotic face. The very existence of that bastard repulsed her. She put some shampoo on her hands and massaged her scalp, but her muscles remained tense.

She hated him. She wished he would cease to exist, that his presence would be erased from the world.

She sighed and leaned her hands against the wall in front of her. The water washed the soap off her, flowing over her skin like a balm. A balm that could do nothing against the snarling force vibrating in her chest.

Ember hated that too. She didn't want to be an angry person like her father. But no matter how hard she tried to keep it inside, it kept eating away at her organs, piece by piece.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a robe around her body. The burn on her thigh had become horrible, full of pustules that pulsed as if they were alive. If they had burst sooner or later and released some flying creature, she wouldn't have been surprised. Little bats, maybe. Every time Ember bent her knee, her skin pulled, and the burn sent her memories of boiling steam.

She had left a pile of books scattered on the bed. Not the tidiest. The bracelet lay on top of a tome with a sickly, mouse-colored cover, the words 'History of Valestria' in large letters in the background. It glowed blue. Ember took it between her fingers and immediately felt the vibration of the magnetic field.

Then a voice came, right into her head.

"Ember?"

"Aah!" She dropped the bracelet on the bed with a small cry. Was that... the Sergeant? Cautiously, as if approaching an angry wildcat, Ember picked up the object and touched its surface with her finger. "Sergeant?"

"Ember, it's about time. I've been trying to call you for twenty minutes."

"Ah, yes." Ember lowered her gaze. Except for the towel wrapped around her, she was naked. And she was talking to the Sergeant with water still dripping from her hair. "I took it off to...um, shower."

"No need to take it off, it's waterproof."

Her brain stopped working. It went into total meltdown. True, the bracelet would also eliminate any background noise, which meant that her Sergeant could be anywhere right now. If she wouldn't even take it off to take a shower, then there were possibilities that...

No, no. I needed a cold shower, not a hot one.

Ember sat down on the bed. Fortunately, the other could not see the embarrassment oozing from every pore of her skin. "Sorry, I didn't know..."

"Never mind. I heard the Colonel will be gone for a few days. Tomorrow might be the best time to get into his office."

Already? Of course, that made sense; Ferun didn't have much time to waste. Ember nodded before remembering that the other could not see her. "When?"

"At the end of the day, come to my office."

The bracelet lit up again and then went out. Ember sighed, aware that her Sergeant was no longer listening to her. Then she curled up on the bed, knees to her chest. She couldn't make it. Ferun would be disappointed, because Ember was good for nothing.

After an eternity, she found the strength to get up, put on her pajamas, and take her books off the bed. She also took off her bracelet, but soon changed her mind. She put it back on her wrist and lay down on the mattress. Despite the fatigue of the day, sleep was slow to come. And when it did, it brought the usual nightmares.

Ember awoke the next morning with sweat clinging to her pajamas. Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, a blade of light slicing through her eyes. She got to her feet with a groan. Her leg held her with more stability, the pain was still there, the feeling of a pair of pliers pulling at her skin tortured her. But it was bearable.

Enough to return to training?

Ember jumped in place. "Ouch!" she hissed. She didn't bend over, though. A good start.

She put on her uniform, a depressing dark blue, the masculine cut hiding the few curves she had. Not an excess of femininity, of course, but she wouldn't be at a military academy if femininity was her forte.

She left the dormitory and walked down the corridors towards the boot camp. Phoenix's words came back to her. It would be a shame for you to fall behind'. Ember didn't want to fall behind. Her skills sucked pretty hard already, at least compared to more talented cadets like that damned assface Mark.

She sensed the voices before she even reached the field. Phoenix came out of the corner, followed by a line of cadets. Mark and Jason in the front row.

Ember froze, confused. They all had their weapons strapped to their belts, their expressions serious and focused. She recognized the procedure: they were going on a mission. Again. And she knew nothing about it.

Mark paused to give her a wry smile. "Hey, Leroy, have fun warming up our bench."

"Mark, stop fooling around." Phoenix ruffled his hair. The other complained, but made no objection. The General turned to Ember. "We got a sudden mission. It's supposed to be a simple one, but as a precaution they decided to send me as well."

At the back of the line, Sergeant Ferun followed the cadets with a tense step. She didn't hold her head up as she usually did to make sure her recruits obeyed her. Ember felt a pang in her chest to see her like this. Her superiors blamed her for what had happened, that much was clear. Just like Mark had done.

"I can come too, I'm better now," Ember said in an almost petulant tone. A desperate child, that's what she sounded like.

Ferun raised her eyes to meet Ember's, but stood still and silent. It was Phoenix to tap her on the shoulder - Ember closed her eyes, the images of her angry father vivid in her mind. "You'd better stay here. When you're better, you'll make up, okay?"

Ember could only nod, meekly. Phoenix ordered the others to follow him, and they did so without a fuss. Only Mark hesitated, grinning in her direction, and Ferun nodded at her. It was hard to tell if it was a greeting or a moment of complicity.

Stolen story; please report.

When they were gone, Ember was left alone with her own thoughts.

I told you you were useless.

Deprived of her own energy, as if they had drained it with a Ysnian spell, Ember made her way back to her room. But barely had she taken the first steps when a new idea occurred to her. She couldn't follow her companions on a mission, but she could still train alone.

She descended into the training room, where the hum became deafening and the pressure seemed to crush her. Square and empty, this place had always been a portal to another dimension in Ember's mind. A place where reality could be altered at will. The terminal on the back was blinking. She wasn't practical with the display; cadets usually didn't go there alone, although there was no real prohibition against it.

The interface, however, was simple and intuitive: squares of text asked for a choice of training mode. Ember pressed her finger on the [Hologram Duel] button. She then selected [Cadets] and [A Section] and found herself in front of the entire list of her teammates. Next to each name was a rank.

[Viola Askew - Rank E]

[Ciel Milan - Rank D]

[Jason Oers - Rank D]

[Mark Terris - Rank C]

[Ember Leroy - Rank E]

She was considered Rank E, a full two units lower than Mark. That's why they were all worried about her falling behind: she was already one of the lowest.

How could she help Sergeant Ferun like that? She pressed on her own profile, and a picture of her face opened under her parameters.

[Muscle Strength - E] [Concentration - D]

[Stamina - E] [Problem Solving - C]

[Agility and Reaction - E] [Strategic Ability - C]

[Speed - D] [Equipment Skill - E]

In short, she sucked. Biting her cheek, Ember went back to check her superiors' parameters. Many had rank A. Lightara Ferun presented rank S instead, and the only one with an SS was General Phoenix. It didn't surprise her.

She went back and opened Mark's profile. His physical characteristics were above average compared to the other cadets, but in problem solving and strategic skills he had an E. Ember's perfect nemesis: he excelled where she sucked, and he sucked where she excelled. She pressed her finger on the [Battle] button, and when asked to select a weapon, she chose the electromagnetic pulse sword.

A magnetic web spread around her fingers. Ember squeezed it, and held up the empty-weight sword. An imitation of the real thing, it would only harm other holograms. She turned to find Mark's hologram waiting for her with glazed eyes, weapon raised in a guard posture.

Without warning, Mark shot forward. The blade low, he feinted a slash from below. Ember stepped back, gasping; Mark delivered another blow, in a silent dance of electric vibrations. The weapon slammed into her own, in a flash of mock sparks. He pushed, forcing her back with brute force alone.

With each step, the burn on her leg pulsed, a maddening red alert. Ember stomped her feet and bent her knees.

Find your balance and no one can move you.

The Sergeant was right. It was less a matter of strength than of balance. But no matter how much she resisted, Mark kept pushing her back.

No, she couldn't beat him like that. Screw balance, facing him in his strengths had been a bad idea. She had to change her strategy.

She threw to the side. Mark staggered forward - here was a weakness of his, he was a big braggart. Ember slashed her blade at his stomach, but he was quicker: his sword crashed into hers, the force of the impact regaining his balance. He turned sharply. Ember moved her foot to get out of his reach; she bent her knee too far, and the red alert on her leg became a stiletto.

She stumbled like the biggest fool.

Mark's sword sliced through her torso in a clean cut. The hologram disintegrated in a shower of sparks before her eyes. Ember found herself with her ass on the floor and her ego under her shoes.

When will you give up? Can't do nothing right. You have the balance and reflexes of a drunken sloth.

"Shut up," she murmured, her voice shaking. Her butt hurt. She could expect a big bruise the next day. She clenched her fingers around nothing and pressed her hands against the cold floor.

Mark's cocky grin remained etched in her mind. He and her father stared at her from above, exchanging glances, laughing. They were laughing at her. Because she was stupid. Because she was pathetic. Because she was useless.

You might as well quit.

Everyone would be better off if you stopped wasting their time.

Go home, Ember. You don't have what it takes.

You're ridiculous, Leroy.

You don't deserve anyone's approval. You will disappoint everyone: your General, your Sergeant, everyone.

Stop fighting, we all know how you'll end up.

You're gonna run away, like you always have.

Ember covered her ears and curled up on the floor. But what Father and Mark said kept coming out of her. They lived in her head. "Stop it! Shut up!"

You're a pathetic excuse for a soldier.

You want to protect others? When you can't even protect yourself?

You want to protect others? Then why did you never protect your mother?

You want to protect others? It's just a lie. You're no angel. You're full of hate. You just want to burn everything.

Burn everything. Burn everything. Yes. That's what she wanted. Annihilate Ysnian. Destroy Valestria. Erase Mark. Burn her father.

A flame, the flame of rage, kept her alive. It possessed her, made her stand. Like a puppet, she returned to the terminal and pressed the button to start another test battle. This time, when Mark's hologram attacked, she was ready.

Ember fought, ignoring the pain in her leg. She brought the sword down with such force, again and again, that her muscles shook with each of Mark's parries. But she didn't care. The only thing she saw was his bitchy face. The only thing she heard were the voices in her head.

She screamed with every blow. She was too slow, too weak, too clumsy. But she couldn't stop.

The fire burned in her chest, it wanted to get out. It burned from within, flames lapping at her heart.

When Mark disarmed her and won again, tears came to her eyes.

She activated the fight once more.

She lost again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Until even the fire lapped at her throat in one last cry into the void. Ember fell to her knees, salty drops ran down her cheeks and ticked on the floor. She pounded her fist on the ground, no strength left. Too exhausted. She could barely see, her hands shaking. Her right biceps had a constant spasm.

A ringing filled her ears. And then, in that sudden silence, came the sobs. Because, after all, her father was right: all she could do was cry.