DARIAN

The morning air is sharp, still clinging to the edge of the night’s chill. It bites at my skin as I pull on my training gear and strap the sword to my back. My body moves out of habit, but my mind’s a storm I can’t quiet. I haven’t slept properly since the weekend, since Iris.

Since Zeus.

I need to train. I need to hit something. I need silence, and the sound of metal colliding, and control. Just a little bit of it.

But as I walk across the stone path toward the training grounds, I hear the unmistakable clang of swords. Voices shouting commands. And not mine....