Chapter 4 First Blood

Elias POV

The clanging of swords reverberated through the training yard as I entered, my boots clicking against the floor. Aurelius Academy wasn’t small, but somehow everything felt bigger, the space, the shadows, and the anticipation showing on all of us faces. Today was the real test: combat training.

Instructor Noir’s gaze swept over us like a hawk’s. “Pairs,” he barked, and I felt my stomach twisted. “Find a partner and report to the center.”

I scanned the yard, searching for a friendly face , and hoping to avoid any nightmare. But luck or fate had other plans for me, my eyes pointed straight at Ronan.

“Quinn,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he approached. “Looks like I’m stuck with you.”

I forced a smile. “Lucky me.”

His eyes blinked, sharp and assessing. One thing I noticed since my first day here was that Ronan had that way of making you feel like you’d already lost before you even raised your sword.

And his scent!!! Oh God!! The scent.

My body reacted even before my brain could stop it. I felt an outburst of pheromones I didn’t mean to send or maybe I did, hit me like a punch in my chest. I fought so hard to steady my breathing.

“Focus, Quinn,” I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if it was a warning for him or myself.

We circled each other, our weapons drawn. Ronan’s fighting style was aggressive, almost brutal. He feinted, jabbed, and pushed, probing for weakness. I mirrored him, but every strike felt heavier, every movement was harder. My pulse betrayed me.

“You’re tense,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low, like he was teasing. “Relax. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

I swallowed hard, trying not to inhale too deeply. Every instinct screamed that he didn’t know, but my body might have already given me away. I shook my head slightly, hoping it looked like focus rather than….whatever that was.

“You’re holding back,”he said, narrowing his gaze. “I can feel it. Come on, fight me, Quinn. Show me what you’ve got.”

I lunged, blocking his strike and countering, trying to keep my mind on the rhythm of the fight. But he was relentless. Every moment I made, he anticipated . My muscles burned, my mind was screaming at me to keep control. And then, there it was….a sharp awareness in my chest. My own signal, subtle and unintentional, warning him, trading him. My heart thudded in panic.

Ronan’s grin widened. “Something’s .….off. You smell different.”

My chest tightened. Did he notice? No. He couldn’t. Not this fast. Not like this.

I nearly stuttered, but then a laugh cut through the tension like sunlight breaking clouds.

“Hey! Don't hog all the fun, you two!” Luca, my new friend strolled into our circle, twirling his wooden practice sword with a casual flair. “Or is this a duel for my entertainment?”

Ronan frowned, but I felt a momentary relief wash over me. My friend’s timing was impeccable, as always. I noticed he had a knack for inserting himself into the chaos, and somehow, the world tilted back into something manageable.

“Step aside, Luca,” Ronan snapped, but I could see the hint of irritation.

I muttered a quick thanks under my breath, and Luca winked at me. “Anytime, Quinn. I’ve got a sixth sense for spotting trouble.”

Ronan took a deep breath and stepped back, recalibrating. The momentary distraction had shifted the energy, but it didn't erase the tension.

We resumed our duel. I made sure I focused on every detail, the weight of my sword, the rhythm of his strikes, the slight twitch in his shoulders. I could handle him if I stayed alert, if I stayed calm.

But staying calm was proving to be the hardest thing I’d ever done. My senses were overloaded. His every movement, every scent, every subtle shift in his energy… it all hit me with a sharp intensity I wasn’t used to. And the flare, brief, dangerous flickered again. My fingers tightened on the hilt of my sword, and I had to swallow the urge to step back.

“You’re nervous,” Ronan said, circling me like a predator. “I like it.”

I gritted my teeth. “You’re not making this easy.”

He chuckled darkly. “Neither are you. But that’s what makes it interesting.”

I lunged forward, parrying his strike and countering, trying to push past the haze in my mind. I could almost feel him noticing the subtle anomaly in my presence, a shift he couldn’t name. My muscles tensed, my reflexes sharpened, but so did my panic. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Then Luca, again, like a guardian angel with a grin leapt between us, waving his sword lazily. “Alright! Enough doom and gloom. Quinn, bet you can’t beat me in a single strike!”

“What?” I asked, bewildered.

“Don’t question it,” Luca said with a grin. “Just go with it. Distract him!”

Ronan scowled. “What is….”

I lunged forward, striking Luca’s wooden practice sword, and the brief chaos drew Ronan’s attention entirely. I used the distraction to regain control over my breathing, to steady the flare that had threatened to betray me. Luca laughed, shouting dramatically as he spun, drawing Ronan’s focus away entirely.

“You owe me a drink for this later,” I muttered under my breath, barely audible.

“Noted,” Luca said with a wink.

The duel resumed, but the balance had shifted slightly. Ronan was sharper now, more attentive, but the flare hadn’t returned, at least not noticeably. I moved with careful precision, every strike calculated, every parry deliberate. My mind was a battlefield as much as the yard around us.

“Good,” Ronan said finally, stepping back, chest heaving. “Not bad, Quinn. You’re learning.”

“Thanks,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. My heart still raced, and I knew he didn’t fully understand why I’d been… off. And I hoped he never would.

We lowered our swords as Instructor Noir stepped into the circle, his presence magnetic and intimidating. He surveyed the yard, eyes glinting in the sunlight. Then he stopped, narrowing his gaze on me for a fraction of a second longer than was comfortable.

Horror prickled my spine. He wasn’t looking at my form, not really. His eyes were scanning something deeper, something I couldn’t hide. And then, in a whisper that seemed meant only for himself, he said, “Interesting… Candidate Quinn.”

I froze, heart hammering. The words weren’t loud, but they carried weight, an undercurrent of scrutiny that made the blood in my veins feel heavier.

Ronan frowned. “What?”

Instructor Noir didn’t answer. He turned away, moving to observe another pair of trainees, but the intensity of that single phrase lingered in the air like smoke.

I swallowed hard. Whatever that meant, whatever he had sensed… I wasn’t ready for it. Not yet.

Luca clapped me on the shoulder. “See? Told you it’d be fun.”

“Fun,” I muttered, though the word tasted bitter.

As the session continued, I forced myself to focus, to match Ronan’s strikes, to regain the rhythm I needed. But the awareness of Noir’s gaze, the flare that almost betrayed me, and the intensity of Ronan’s challenge pressed on me like a weight.

By the time we finished, I was exhausted not just in body, but in mind and soul. Every sense had been on high alert, every instinct screaming for control. And yet, somewhere deep inside, a spark of exhilaration burned. Combat was dangerous, yes. But it was also intoxicating.

And I had survived.

For now.

As we sheathed our swords and the trainees began to disperse, I caught Noir’s gaze one last time. That whisper echoed in my mind, chilling and electric: Interesting… Candidate Quinn.

I didn’t know what it meant yet. But I knew, with an unshakable certainty, that nothing in Aurelius Academy would ever be the same again.