After she left, making her point clear to the woman, the door sealed behind Selene with a quiet finality, but the tension she carried did not stay confined to her quarters.
It followed her down the corridor like a second shadow.
She did not slow, did not look back, and did not allow herself the indulgence of lingering anger. What she had done was necessary, if crude. The woman she had left behind would learn quickly what lines existed and which ones ended lives, and Selene had no patience for lessons repeated twice.
By the time she reached the training levels, her expression was once again unreadable.
Deep within the headquarters, far from the polished halls of authority and closer to the bones of the city, the air changed. Stone walls widened into a vast subterranean arena, circular and layered, with tiered platforms cut directly into the rock. Old sigils lined the floor in concentric patterns, not restraints, not safeguards for the weak, but frameworks meant to survive force, failure, and things that should never have been allowed to exist in one place.
This was not a place where legends were born.
It was where they were tested and even the successful could fail here.
Across the yard and in the headquarters, the girl finished adjusting her clothes, fingers moving with a steadiness that felt unfamiliar but welcome. Whatever fear she might have expected to surface before her first sanctioned training did not arrive. Instead, there was a sharpened awareness, every sense tuned, every thought aligned toward forward motion.
She paused briefly, resting her palm against the limiter.
It answered her touch with low warmth, it did not resist her nor did it warn her, it simply accepted her.
When she stepped into the corridor, the eyes were already there.
Some were open, some hidden, and some were carefully neutral, but she felt them all. Attention brushed against her and pulled back again, cautious, assessing. She did not hurry and she did not shrink.
She followed the pull beneath her ribs and reached the arena moments before Selene.
The knight entered from the opposite side, armor replaced with lighter gear built for speed and adaptability, her presence immediately altering the balance of everything that was supposed to be happening. Selene's gaze swept the arena once before settling on the girl, sharp, measuring, and unmistakably focused.
"You're early," Selene said.
"I didn't sleep," the girl replied. "Didn't see the point in resting."
A faint sound left Selene, something between approval and amusement. "Good. Fatigue hides lies and you are honest about what your focus is."
The arena sealed itself with a deep, resonant sound, sigils along the floor lighting in muted gold as the isolation field settled. Observation platforms activated above, shadows shifting as figures took their places, council witnesses, instructors, and watchers who pretended not to care while memorizing every movement.
Selene stepped toward the center of the ring and turned.
"This is not a duel," she said, her voice carrying without effort. "This is training. You are not here to win. You are here to learn what happens when someone stronger, faster, and more experienced decides you are a problem."
The girl rolled her shoulders, tail flicking once behind her.
"And you?" she asked. "Which part are you?"
Selene's lips curved slightly. "All of them."
Without warning, Selene moved and the girl's eyes widened, she was not just fast, but her opponent would be her.
The space between them collapsed as Selene struck, testing her senses rather than committing, her blade flashing toward the girl's shoulder with lethal precision. The girl barely had time to react, instincts dragging her aside as steel cut the air where she had been standing a heartbeat before.
She stumbled aside but recovered, and turned just in time to block the second strike, the impact rattling up her arm and into her core.
Selene did not relent, her eyes narrowed and she pressed forward, attacks flowing in controlled patterns, each strike deliberate, each one seeming to be opening intentional. This was not meant to overwhelm. It was meant to expose her to reality.
The girl adapted as the fight went on, her system instantly reacted. It was not perfect, but it was a good enough attempt.
She stopped thinking about form and let her body respond, footwork shifting, balance correcting, and her tail countering momentum as she slipped between blows that should have ended her. Her limiter hummed, tension building beneath her skin as her core adjusted, responding not to danger, but to challenge.
Selene noticed and her strikes changed; they became much faster to see how much the girl will be able to adapt if something happens.
"Good," Selene said between movements. "You're listening and paying attention to my moves."
Steel rang again as the girl caught Selene's blade with her own, sparks flashing as they locked for a fraction of a second. Selene leaned in, strength pressing down, eyes locked onto hers.
"You hesitate right here," Selene murmured. "That's where they'll kill you."
The girl twisted instead of retreating, shifting her grip and using Selene's momentum to break contact. She moved without thinking, a low sweep forcing Selene back a step, surprise flickering briefly across the face of the knight, who was sent by the king to watch them.
The arena responded and the sigils beneath them flared brighter, reacting not to power but to synchronization. The frameworks bent subtly, reinforcing where the girl stepped, supporting movements that should have faltered.
Selene felt it and her eyes narrowed, since this only happens when a growth starts among their members.
"You're not pushing," Selene said. "You're aligning, simply accepting."
The girl exhaled sharply, muscles burning, focus narrowing. "I don't know how to do anything else."
Selene attacked again, this time without restraint.
The exchange turned brutal, it was not clean or flashy, just one leader trying to teach someone.
The arena was surrounded by raw pressure, with Selene forcing the girl to react faster, think less, feel more. Blows slipped past guards, grazed skin, knocked breath from their lungs. The girl hit the ground once, rolled, and came back up before Selene could finish it.
She was bleeding and smiling, not from joy.
From recognition.
She moved again, this time letting her core breathe, power flowing in measured control rather than release. Her strikes grew cleaner, her timing sharper, and her movements less reactive and more predictive.
For the first time, Selene stepped back voluntarily and the arena fell quiet except for their breathing.
"That's enough," Selene said finally.
The sigils dimmed, the pressure easing as the isolation field relaxed. Above them, no one spoke, but the tension had shifted.
Selene approached her slowly, eyes scanning her stance, her breathing, and the way her power settled rather than flared.
"You learn frighteningly fast," Selene said. "And not the way most do."
The girl wiped blood from her lip, gaze steady. "I wasn't trained to fight," she replied. "I was trained to survive."
Selene held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded once.
"That may be worse for all of us," she said quietly, as the other members there exchanged glances and the girl's brows furrowed.