The grey-robed man opened the door for them and waved for them to step inside.

  The room was simple, almost barren. Three beds, one for each of them, were lined up against the walls. The beds were pin, covered with grey sheets and pillows that looked stiff and unwelcoming. A single dresser stood against the far wall, its wooden surface slightly worn. The air carried a faint scent of dust and something sterile, as if the room had been cleaned but never truly lived in.

  "There is a dresser where you can pce your clothes. Take good care of them," the robed man said, his voice devoid of warmth. "Down the hall, there is a common bathroom and a shared living space."

  Without another word, the man turned and stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him. The sharp sound of a lock sliding into pce sent a chill through the room.

  The taller boy strode to the door and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. His lips pressed into a thin line as he rattled it once more, frustration flickering across his face.

  The light above them, the magic stone embedded in the ceiling, pulsed once before dimming out completely, plunging the room into near darkness. The only source of light now was the pale glow from a pair of small windows at the far end of the room.

  The taller boy let out a sharp exhale and walked over to the window, his friend following close behind. He clicked his tongue in irritation as he spotted the thick metal bars set into the frame.

  "Guess we’re locked up for the night," he muttered.

  "Eh, at least we have a good pce to sleep," his friend added with a shrug, plopping onto one of the beds and stretching out as if this were all routine.

  Cale hesitated before making his way to his own bed. He reached for the bnket, intending to settle in for the night, but his fingers froze just before touching it.

  "What are you doing?" the taller boy asked, his gaze shifting toward him.

  "Going to sleep. I’m tired," Cale answered, his voice quieter than he intended.

  The taller boy chuckled, the sound more amused than cruel, but there was something in it that made Cale’s stomach tighten.

  "Oh, come on. Are you a baby or something?" the boy teased. "Let’s talk a little. You know, learn about the people you’ll be stuck with for who knows how long."

  He waved Cale over, a zy grin pying on his lips.

  Cale hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t want to cause any trouble, didn’t want to make them feel like he wasn’t trying to be part of the group. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk, but something about the way they looked at him made his chest tighten with uncertainty.

  Still, he didn’t want to seem unfriendly. He took slow steps toward them, his movements cautious, like a stray animal approaching unfamiliar hands.

  "Come on. I don’t bite—usually," the taller boy smirked.

  Before Cale could react, the boy’s hand cmped down on his shoulder. A swift movement followed, and suddenly, Cale’s feet were swept out from under him.

  He hit the wooden floor with a dull thud, a sharp jolt shooting up his spine. A gasp of pain escaped him before he could stop it.

  "My back…" he mumbled, wincing as he shifted.

  The taller boy grinned down at him. "Come on, baby boy. It was just a prank. Don’t be so serious."

  Cale wanted to say something, to protest, to tell them that wasn’t funny. But he hesitated. The two boys were staring at him, and for all their ughter, there was an unspoken challenge in their eyes. He didn’t want them to think he was weak. He didn’t want to be a burden. So, instead, he forced a small, strained chuckle.

  "I-It’s fine," he said quickly, rubbing his back as he pushed himself up. "I guess I should’ve seen that coming."

  He gave them a small, uncertain smile, hoping to smooth things over. Hoping that if he ughed along, they wouldn’t see him as an outsider. Hoping that if he was agreeable enough, they’d accept him.

  The taller boy let out a satisfied hum, seemingly pleased with his reaction. "See? That’s the spirit. We’re gonna be stuck here together. Might as well have a little fun, right?"

  Cale nodded, though his shoulders remained tense. He didn’t know if this was the kind of friendship he wanted, but if keeping the peace meant pying along, he would.

  Even if, deep down, he wished they didn’t think pushing him down was what counted as "fun."

  The boys eventually settled into conversation, sharing their names and bits about themselves.

  The taller boy stepped forward with a confident smirk, his short, dark brown hair neatly cropped close to his head. His strong jawline and piercing blue eyes carried an air of quiet dominance as he introduced himself. "I’m Garret. Twelve—almost thirteen," he said, puffing out his chest slightly, as if those extra months made him significantly more formidable.

  His friend, a stocky boy with a thick build and short dark hair, followed suit. "Marek. I’ll be twelve soon."

  Cale hesitated before speaking, feeling the weight of their gazes pressing down on him. "I’m almost eleven," he finally said, his voice quiet, unsure.

  Garret’s eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh-ho! So you’re the little brother!" He nudged Marek with a chuckle. "Looks like we got ourselves a baby in the room."

  Cale swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. He didn’t want to be seen as weak—didn’t want to be just "the little one." But he also didn’t want to argue, didn’t want them to think he was difficult. Instead, he forced a small, reluctant smile, pying along. "Guess so..."

  Marek shrugged, smirking. "Hey, being the youngest isn’t so bad. Means we get to toughen you up."

  Cale nodded, but deep inside, something in his chest tightened.

  Cale hesitated before speaking, his fingers tightening slightly at his sides. "What do you mean by 'toughen me up'?"

  Garret and Marek exchanged a gnce, their smirks widening as if they had been waiting for him to ask.

  "Oh, you’ll see soon enough," Garret said, rolling his shoulders as he stepped closer. "Can’t have our baby brother being all soft and weak."

  Cale barely had time to react before Garret’s hand shot forward, shoving him back. He stumbled, catching himself just before he hit the bedframe. A nervous chuckle escaped him as he tried to py it off, but the moment he looked up, he saw the glint of mischief in their eyes.

  Marek wasted no time, stepping behind Cale and giving him a sharp shove toward Garret. Cale barely had time to brace before Garret grabbed his shoulders and twisted him around, forcing him off bance. His legs buckled, and he crashed onto the wooden floor, his palms scraping against the rough surface.

  Garret ughed, crouching beside him. "Come on, baby brother. You gotta learn how to take a hit."

  Marek loomed over him, arms crossed. "Yeah, you’ll never st in this pce if you can’t handle a little roughhousing."

  Cale’s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to protest, to tell them to stop, but the words stuck in his throat. If he pushed back, would they take it as a challenge? If he showed weakness, would it get worse?

  Garret reached out and yanked him up by his shirt, forcing him onto unsteady feet. "Let’s see what you got, little guy. Hit me."

  Cale stared at him, his breath uneven. "I… I don’t want to."

  Garret clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "That’s the problem."

  Before Cale could react, Marek kicked the back of his knee, making him colpse again. Pain jolted up his leg, and this time, he couldn’t stop the small whimper that escaped his lips.

  "Pathetic," Marek muttered. "Guess we got a lot of work to do."

  Cale’s vision blurred for a moment as he blinked rapidly, willing himself not to cry. He knew he couldn't show them weakness. He forced himself to his hands and knees, his muscles shaking as he pushed himself upright. His body ached, but the humiliation stung worse than anything.

  Garret cpped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing just a little too tight. "Hey, you’re learning. That’s all that matters."

  Marek smirked. "Yeah, don’t worry, baby brother. We’ll make sure you’re strong by the time we’re done with you."

  Cale forced himself to smile, nodding along even as his stomach twisted with unease. He had wanted to be accepted. But deep down, he wasn’t sure if pying along was making it better—or making it worse.

  Garret stretched his arms over his head, rolling his shoulders before cracking his knuckles. "Alright, baby brother, let’s toughen you up for real this time. I’ll teach you a grappling technique I picked up. You’re gonna need to know how to fight if you wanna survive here."

  Cale hesitated, his stomach twisting. He didn’t trust Garret, not after the way he and Marek had been pushing him around, but refusing would only make things worse. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay… but you won’t hurt me, right?"

  Garret grinned, cpping him on the shoulder. "Of course not! This is just training."

  Marek chuckled from the side. "Yeah, don’t be such a wimp, Cale. You gotta learn sometime."

  Cale forced himself to step forward, trying to shake off the unease pressing down on him. Garret crouched slightly, positioning himself. "Alright, I’m gonna show you a rear naked choke. It’s one of the best ways to make someone submit—completely stops ‘em in their tracks."

  Before Cale could react, Garret moved behind him in a fsh, one arm snaking around Cale’s neck, his forearm pressing tight against his throat. His other hand locked into pce behind Cale’s head, securing the hold.

  The moment the pressure cmped down, Cale panicked. His body reacted instinctively, his hands flying up to grab at Garret’s arm, trying to pry it away. But it was tight—too tight. His fingers cwed uselessly at Garret’s forearm, his nails digging into the skin, but Garret didn’t budge.

  "Rex, baby brother," Garret murmured into his ear, amusement cing his tone. "Just tap when you’ve had enough."

  Cale tried to breathe, but the pressure was unrelenting. He could feel the blood struggling to move through his neck, his vision already beginning to blur at the edges. His chest spasmed as he fought to pull in air, but nothing came. His arms filed, hands shaking as they cwed at Garret’s arm, desperation surging through him.

  The room started to fade, dark spots creeping into his vision. A horrible, primal fear cwed at his mind—he was going to die. His limbs weakened, his legs buckling as his body begged for oxygen. His heart pounded erratically, a deafening drum against his ribs.

  He tried to scream, to beg, but no sound came. The only thing that left him was a weak gurgle, his lips trembling as his strength drained away. His hands, once frantic, slowed—fingers twitching feebly before they slipped away from Garret’s arm.

  Just as his body sagged, on the brink of unconsciousness, Garret finally released him. Cale crumpled to the ground in a heap, gasping and coughing as air flooded his burning lungs. The room spun around him, his limbs shaking uncontrolbly as he curled inward, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  Garret let out a chuckle, wiping his arm where Cale’s nails had left faint red marks. "Damn, you went out almost completely. That was faster than I thought!"

  Marek ughed, shaking his head. "Look at him. He looks like he just saw death itself."

  Cale’s hands pressed against the floor, his fingers trembling as he tried to push himself up. His throat throbbed, a raw, aching tightness lingering from the chokehold. His breath hitched, his chest still fighting to settle. He didn’t look at them. He couldn’t.

  Because for a moment, in that darkness, he really had believed he was going to die. And they had ughed.

  Garret yawned, stretching his arms behind his head. "I’m going to sleep. I bet those creeps will wake us first in the morning."

  Marek followed suit, rubbing his eyes and cracking his neck. "Yeah, no point in staying up. We should rest."

  Cale watched them as they casually climbed into their beds, their movements unbothered, as if the events of the night meant nothing to them. They settled in, the room falling into an eerie stillness, broken only by the creak of the wooden bed frames and the slow, steady breathing of the two boys.

  Cale remained on the floor for a few moments longer, his arms wrapped around himself, his body trembling with leftover fear. His throat still burned, and every breath felt like a reminder of how close he had come to suffocating. Eventually, he crawled into his bed, pulling the coarse bnket up to his chin as if it could shield him from everything he had endured.

  As he y there, the weight of the night pressed down on him. The fear, the humiliation, the helplessness—it all swirled inside him, tightening his chest until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. His body shook as quiet sobs escaped him, his face damp with tears he couldn’t control.

  "Shut up," Garret suddenly growled, his voice sharp and irritated. The words cut through the darkness like a knife, startling Cale so much he nearly jumped.

  Cale’s breath hitched. He quickly buried his face into his pillow, to muffle his cries. He forced himself to stay silent, swallowing back every sob, every emotion that threatened to spill over. The st thing he wanted was to give them another reason to mock him.

  Slowly, the tremors in his body faded, and exhaustion pulled him under. His mind drifted into uneasy sleep, the echoes of ughter and the tightening grip around his throat lingering in his dreams like a phantom he couldn’t escape.

  The piercing cng of the morning bell shattered the silence of the dormitory, jolting Cale awake. His eyes snapped open, his heart hammering against his ribs as he instinctively flinched at the sudden noise. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was. Then reality came rushing back.

  Garret and Marek groaned and stirred. Garret sat up quickly, while Marek grumbled and dragged himself out of bed. The cold of the early morning bit at Cale’s exposed skin as he pulled off his bnket.

  "Get up, baby brother," Garret sneered from across the room. "Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting."

  Cale swallowed, shoving his lingering fatigue aside as he pushed himself up. He barely had time to stretch before the dormitory door was thrown open with a loud bang, making Cale jump in surprise.

  A man cd in dark armor stepped inside, his expression unreadable beneath his helmet. "On your feet! Outside in two minutes!" his voice barked, sharp as steel. "If you're te, you run double!"

  Marek cursed under his breath, shoving his shoes on hastily. He was wearing the pants from the set of clothes meant for training—sturdy, dark fabric reinforced at the knees, paired with a rough linen shirt A thick leather belt secured the ensemble.

  Cale scrambled to dress, his hands fumbling as he yanked on his new shoes. The leather was stiff and unfamiliar, the soles thin enough that he could feel the cold seeping through. His fingers were clumsy, but he knew he couldn’t afford to be the st one out.

  The dormitory exploded into motion as recruits rushed to the main hallway .

  The beds inside the dormitory were left unkempt, bnkets tossed aside in the urgency to comply.

  All the boys in the dormitory halted before the main door that led outside. An armored figure cd in dark steel stood by the entrance, his helmet shifting as he surveyed them, his gaze sweeping left to right. Without a word, he turned his back to them and pushed open the heavy door. A gust of cold air rushed in as they followed him out.

  The recruits charged through the doorway, spilling into the frigid morning air. The sky was still cloaked in the dark hues of pre-dawn, the air sharp and biting against Cale’s skin. His breath formed small clouds as he exhaled, his body tensing as he lined up with the others.

  Last night, Cale hadn't been able to make out much of his surroundings due to the darkness, but now he could see it clearly. A wide, open training ground stretched before them, illuminated by the faint glow of torchlight. To one side y a track field, its dirt path tightly packed. In another corner, thick logs were arranged in staggered formations, some upright, others set horizontally for bance exercises. A cluster of round stones, varying in size and weight, was scattered nearby, likely meant for strength training. Beyond them, a series of pull-up bars gleamed with morning frost, their metal chilled from the night air.

  They were guided into neat lines, arranged with precision. Cale gnced around, his gaze nding on Mirelle. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her expression weary but unreadable.

  'I hope she wasn’t toughened up like me,' Cale thought, his mind fshing back to the events of the previous night.

  He spotted Tristan and Davion standing further down the line. They looked calm, their gazes fixed straight ahead, betraying no signs of fear or uncertainty.

  "Form up!" the drill instructor bellowed, his voice carrying across the courtyard like a whip crack. "No stragglers, no excuses! Today, the forging begins!"

  The weight of his words settled over them like an iron shroud. This was only the beginning.