Chapter Seven— punishment
After dinner, Nyrah dragged herself back to her room. Every muscle in her body ached. The cuts from her fight with Voss throbbed with each step.
She pushed open her door and went straight to the bed, not bothering to take off her boots. Black jumped up beside her and curled into a ball.
Nyrah stared at the ceiling. Her mind wouldn't stop racing. Kieran's words kept replaying over and over. Why would they accept a human?
She didn't have an answer. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
She must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes, the room was darker. The sun had set completely. Only moonlight came through her window now.
Then she heard it. A knock at her door.
Nyrah sat up, instantly alert. Black's ears perked up too.
Another knock. Soft but deliberate.
She got up and walked to the door. Her hand hesitated on the handle. Who would come to her room? No one at the Academy had shown her anything but contempt.
She pulled the door open.
The hallway was empty.
Nyrah stepped out and looked both ways. Nothing. No one.
She was about to go back inside when she looked down.
There was a stack of books on the floor right outside her door.
Nyrah picked them up carefully. There were three of them, all worn and clearly well-used. She brought them inside and set them on her desk.
The first book was about basic sword techniques. The second was about defensive stances and footwork. The third was about combat strategy.
But that wasn't what caught her attention.
Inside each book were notes. Handwritten notes in the margins. Diagrams with arrows pointing to important parts. Corrections to the text where the information was outdated.
And there were loose papers tucked between the pages. Notes specifically about today's training. About the stances the instructor had demonstrated. About the drills they'd run. Everything Nyrah had struggled with was explained here in clear, simple language.
She flipped through the pages, her heart beating faster. Someone had left these for her. Someone had taken the time to write out detailed explanations of everything she'd missed.
But who?
Nyrah went back to the door and looked out into the hallway again. Still empty. Whoever had left the books was long gone.
She closed the door and sat down at her desk. Black jumped up and settled beside the books, watching her with those unblinking green eyes.
"Who do you think did this?" she asked him.
Black just stared.
Nyrah opened the first book and started reading. The notes were incredibly detailed. They explained not just what to do, but why. The mechanics behind each movement. The reasoning behind each stance.
She read for hours. Long after the moon had moved across the sky. Long after her eyes started to burn from exhaustion.
But she couldn't stop. This was exactly what she needed. This was how she could catch up.
By the time she finally fell asleep, her head resting on the open book, the sky outside was starting to lighten.
The next morning came too soon.
The bells rang and Nyrah jerked awake, her neck stiff from sleeping at her desk. She had maybe ten minutes to get to Combat Assembly.
She threw on her training clothes and ran. Black followed her down the hallways, his little legs moving fast to keep up.
They made it to the quadrant just as the instructor arrived.
The morning training was brutal. They ran laps around the entire Academy grounds. Then they did weapons drills. Then hand-to-hand combat practice.
Nyrah tried to use what she'd learned from the books. She adjusted her stance the way the notes had described. She focused on her footwork like the diagrams had shown.
But it wasn't enough.
She was still too slow. Still too weak compared to everyone else. When they did sparring matches, she lost every single one.
The instructor watched her fail again and again. His expression never changed.
When the training finally ended, he called out several names. Students who had performed poorly. Nyrah's name was among them.
"You seven will report to the stables for cleaning duty," the instructor said. "Maybe manual labor will teach you the discipline you clearly lack."
Some of the other students laughed.
Nyrah's face burned, but she kept her head up. She followed the other six students toward the stables on the far side of the Academy grounds.
The stables were huge. Rows and rows of stalls housing creatures Nyrah had only read about. Griffins. Wyverns. Massive horses with coats that shimmered like metal.
And they were filthy.
A stable master handed them shovels and buckets. "Clean every stall. Replace all the bedding. Refill the water troughs. Don't stop until it's done."
The work was disgusting. The smell alone made Nyrah's eyes water. She shoveled manure and dirty hay for hours. Her hands blistered. Her back screamed in pain.
The other students assigned to stable duty grumbled and complained, but they worked. Nyrah kept her head down and focused on the task.
She was mucking out a griffin's stall when she heard footsteps behind her.
"Well, well. Look who's right where she belongs."
Nyrah turned around.
A girl stood at the entrance to the stall. She was beautiful in a cold, cruel way. Platinum blonde hair. Ice blue eyes. Her training uniform was spotless, unlike Nyrah's which was covered in dirt and worse.
"Nymeria," one of the other students muttered nervously.
Nymeria smiled. "Shoveling shit. That's perfect for you, human. It's probably the only thing you're actually qualified to do here."
Nyrah tightened her grip on the shovel. "I'm just doing what I was told."
"And you'll keep doing it. Over and over. Because you don't belong here." Nymeria stepped closer. "You're an embarrassment. To the Academy. To the Gauntlet. To everyone."
"If you're just here to insult me, you can leave," Nyrah said. "I have work to do."
Nymeria laughed. "Work. Listen to her. She thinks this is work. Wait until the real trials begin. Wait until you're facing actual danger." She leaned against the stall door. "You'll die screaming. And no one will care. No one will even remember your name."
"Are you done?"
"Not even close." Nymeria's smile widened. "I'm going to enjoy watching you break. It won't take long. A week, maybe. Two if you're stubborn. But eventually, you'll realize you're nothing. You'll quit. Or you'll die. Either way, you'll be gone."
Nyrah met her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."
"We'll see." Nymeria pushed off the door. "By the way, whoever's been helping you? Leaving you those books? They're wasting their time. You can't learn your way out of being weak. You can't study your way into having power. You're human. That means you're inferior. And nothing will change that."
She turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing through the stable.
Nyrah stood there for a long moment. Her hands were shaking. Not from fear. From anger.
She went back to shoveling. Each scoop of the shovel was harder than it needed to be. More violent.
Black appeared at the entrance to the stall, meowing softly.
"I'm fine," Nyrah muttered.
But she wasn't fine. She was exhausted. Humiliated. Covered in filth.
And Nymeria was right about one thing. Nyrah was weak compared to everyone else here. She had no magic. No special bloodline. No powers.
But she had something they didn't.
She had a reason to be here that had nothing to do with glory or power. She needed answers about her parents. And she would do whatever it took to get them.
Even if that meant shoveling shit until her hands bled.
Even if that meant losing every fight.
Even if that meant enduring insults and mockery every single day.
She would survive this. She would make it to the end.
And when she did, people like Nymeria would have to swallow every cruel word they'd ever said.
Nyrah finished cleaning the stall and moved on to the next one. She worked until the sun started to set. Until every muscle in her body screamed for rest.
When she finally dragged herself back to her room that night, there was another knock at her door.
And when she opened it, another stack of books was waiting.