Before the break of dawn, the first birds began to chirp, their fragile song stirring the lifeless darkness that stretched across the land. Cassian's eyes opened to the pale ceiling above him. Sleep had abandoned him long before the night ended, leaving his thoughts tangled with worry for himself, his mother, and a future filled with more uncertainty than promise.
The small chandelier above cast muted light across the room, its crystals catching faint glimmers of dawn. After a moment, Cassian rose from the bed and crossed the chamber. He retrieved a parchment and quill from the cupboard, then settled at the narrow desk in the corner. His fingers tightened around the quill as he stared at it, as though the weight of his thoughts had seeped into his hand. When he finally wrote, his movements were steady and deliberate. He folded the parchment with care and placed it on the desk.
He needed to live. He needed to survive. There was no other choice. Perhaps if he endured what lay ahead, if he walked the path set before him without turning back, he would one day rise among the strongest warriors Virelle had ever known.
His gaze shifted to the only painting in the room. Beneath the painted branches of the willow tree stood himself and his mother, frozen in a moment of warmth from a life that already felt distant. His chest tightened, and a tear threatened to fall, but he forced it away.
"I will be back," he whispered into the quiet.
****
After a short moment of deliberation, he headed towards the bathroom and stepped into the cold tub, letting the chill bite into his skin until his thoughts sharpened. When he dressed, black cloth and leather settled over him like a familiar armor.
By the time his trunks were carried out and secured to the carriage, the sky had begun to pale at the horizon. Cassian picked up the folded letter and stepped into the cool morning air.
The palace, usually alive with footsteps and murmured voices, stood in near silence. Shadows lingered along the stone corridors and towering walls, as though the night still refused to release its hold. Before entering the carriage, Cassian handed the letter to one of his most trusted guards, trusting him to deliver it safely to his mother.
He paused, turning back to take in the palace one final time. Its towering spires and ancient stone stood unmoving, proud and distant. Then he turned away and climbed into the carriage. The wheels began to roll the moment he settled inside.
He was leaving behind the only life he had ever known.
The journey that had begun at dawn came to an end by the afternoon that followed. Spring lay heavy over the land, its beauty softened beneath the orange glow of the setting sun. The warmth felt out of place here, almost mocking, as Cassian drew closer to the towering walls ahead.
What had once seemed an impossible choice had grown simpler with every mile that passed. This was the place where the greatest soldiers were forged, and where countless others met their end. Those who did not die within these walls were often sent out only to fall upon the battlefield instead.
The walls rose high and unforgiving, a silent warning that escape was not an option. As his boots crossed the threshold into what felt like a temporary prison, his instincts urged him to look back but he resisted. There was nothing behind him now.
Dark stone buildings loomed within the compound, their surfaces dull and lifeless despite the lingering sunlight. The air carried the sharp sounds of exertion and command. All around him, men trained relentlessly. Some barked orders with cruel amusement, their voices sharp with authority, while others struggled under impossible demands. When a task was failed, it was repeated. When it was failed again, punishment followed. The crack of a whip split the air, and no one flinched.
Cassian's gaze lingered, taking in every detail. Sweat, blood, exhaustion, and grim determination were etched into the faces around him. A few men wore cruel smiles as they enforced discipline, as though the suffering before them was nothing more than entertainment.
"We've got a very young one!"
The rough voice snapped him back to the present. Cassian turned to face one of the commanders, a man hardened by years of war and obedience.
"You must be the boy from the palace," the commander said.
There was no reverence in his tone, no recognition of rank or blood. If the man knew who Cassian truly was, he gave no sign of it. Perhaps he did not care. After all, what kind of father, especially a king, would send his son to a place designed to break men?
****
Despite being forced to witness the brutality of the training grounds, Cassian was not ordered to join them on his first day. Instead, he was led away from the noise and brought to the quarters that would serve as his living space for the next six months.
The room was narrow and suffocating. Damp stone walls closed in on all sides, their surfaces scarred with cracks and dark stains that hinted at neglect or something far worse. The air was stale, carrying the faint scent of rust. A single, barred window sat high on one wall, allowing only a thin blade of light to slip through which did little to warm the space or chase away the gloom.
A crooked cupboard leaned against the wall, its wood warped and splintered. Beside it stood a thin cot with a mattress so worn it barely deserved the name. The sheets were gray and frayed, offering no comfort and little promise that the men who had slept there before had left under kinder circumstances.
Cassian's trunks had been placed near the door. He looked at them briefly but made no move to unpack. Instead, he crossed the room and lowered himself onto the cot. He lay back with his head turned toward the ceiling, his boots still planted on the floor. The stone above him felt closer than it should have, heavy and unyielding. The thought that the previous occupant may have never left this place alive lingered in his mind, unwelcome yet impossible to ignore.
****
As he continued to spend his time in his newly assigned room, time slipped unnoticed and hours later, as night gave way to the faint light of a new dawn, the violent clang of a bell tore through the silence. The sound was harsh and relentless, far too loud for his sharpened senses. Cassian jerked awake and covered his ears with his hands, his pulse racing as the noise echoed through the stone walls.
The first day had begun.