Chapter two: Kael

Hiii!!! Omg I am SO sorry it has take this long! I have been so busy and I was lwk in a writing slump because I was scared that nobody would read my story and nobody would like it if they did! Okkk anyway I’ll keep this short! Love you all!

-Juliana✨❤️🌸

p.s. this is NOT edited 😬🌸🤪 word count: 1,191 words

Chapter two: Kael Strider

Vanilla.

That’s what I smell when she shoves past me.

Her shoulder— a beautiful golden tan and slick with sweat, slams into mine. Well, it’s more like my elbow. After all, the top of head only reaches my collarbone. Her braided hair reaches her waist and flows gracefully behind her as if it loves with non-existent wind.

The impact barely moves me, but the scent? That hits me stronger than any punch she’s ever thrown towards my face.

It’s irionic, isn’t it? That the most agggravated, tough, royally pissed off woman in this entire academy smells like one of the softest scents you can find in a place like this. Like she belongs somewhere warm and safe instead of in a concrete training academy built to break people into weapons.

Most of the time, all I get is blood and metal and sweat clogging the not so fresh air. Today, I get vanilla and fury.

I snort quietly and turn, watching her stalk away down the corridor. She’s short—annoyingly so—but she walks like she owns the place. Chin lifted. Spine straight. Like she isn’t trapped in a place with kids twice her size, able to snap her in half if they got lucky.

Key word being lucky.

Because no one ever is when it comes to her.

She risks a glance over her shoulder, stunning brown eyes flashing when she realizes my gaze is still following her. There’s a challenge in that stare. A silent try me. Asshole.

I wink at her.

She flips me off.

Beautiful form. Excellent wrist control.

Athena clearly expects me to follow her back to her dorm. She should know me better by now. I don’t chase when she secretly wants me to.

I turn left instead.

My room sits on the fourth door to the right after the main training center—if you can call it a room. It’s more like a reinforced concrete box with a four beds bolted to the floor and a single narrow window that never quite lets the light in.

Not exactly what normal people picture when they hear academy.

Definitely not what I had before the Vanguard found me.

I press my thumb to the screen to the left of the door and shove it open. It being a typical day, I immediately dodge a sock flying at my head.

“Late again.” says Ronan from his bed. His hands are folded on his lap, mockingly, and there is a smug grin on his face. He’s tall, even while sitting, broad-shouldered, with light blond hair and the kind of face that makes instructors sigh and girls forget their own names.

“Miss me?” I ask, only to here a scoff from the other side of the room as an answer.

“How could we not?” Finn mutters from the desk, where he’s cleaning a knife with obsessive care. Dark hair, sharp grey eyes, smile like a loaded weapon. He looks up.

Kael!” a voice chirps.

I straighten, grinning. “You’re getting too cheery, Cyrus. And you missed.”

I look at the sock that I barely dodged and then up at him.

He’s perched on his bed, legs swinging, grin wide and unapologetic. Fifteen years old and already sharper than half the academy. Dark hair messy, hazel eyes bright, expression permanently caught somewhere between excited and determined.

Sunshine with a kill count.

“Correction,” he says. “I was aiming for the wall. You were collateral damage.”

Finn snorts from his chair. “That’s what they all say.”

Ronan looks up from tying his boots, blond hair falling into his green eyes. “Don’t encourage him. He already thinks he’s unstoppable.”

Cyrus beams. “You said confidence was important.”

Ronan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I said controlled confidence.”

Finn grins. “Too late. He’s feral now.”

I toss my jacket onto my bed and glance at Cyrus. “You finish recalibrating that blade?”

“Yep!” He hops up and holds it out proudly. “Adjusted the balance point like you suggested.”

I take it, testing the weight. Perfect.

“Nice work,” I say.

Cyrus lights up like I handed him a medal.

Ronan watches with a soft huff. “Don’t let it go to your head, kid.”

“I live for your approval,” Cyrus replies sarcastically.

Finn laughs. “He’s going to be insufferable when he’s our age.”

“If we survive that long,” Ronan mutters.

I lean against my bed, arms crossed, the scent of vanilla still clinging to my senses like a ghost. I continue to watch them go on and off bickering for a moment—this strange, stitched-together thing we’ve become. Four people who shouldn’t work out as friends, somehow doing exactly that.

Ronan, all control and precision. Finn, lazy confidence hiding a razor mind. Cyrus—new, young, relentless.

And me.

I strip off my black jacket and sit on the edge of my bed. “What’d you break this time?”

“Nothing important,” Cyrus says quickly.

Ronan sighs. “A practice drone.”

“It attacked me,” Cyrus adds.

Finn raises a brow. “It hovered.”

“Menacingly.”

Ronan pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t just destroy academy property.”

Cyrus smiles. “Sure I can.”

Finn laughs again and it even makes me crack a real smile. I’m about to respond when there’s a knock at the door.

Not sharp. Not authoritative.

Light. Almost playful.

We all freeze.

Ronan frowns. “That’s not an instructor.”

Finn grins. “That’s definitely not an instructor.”

Cyrus bounces on his heels. “Ooooh.”

I open the door.

Three girls stand in the hallway, all academy-issued black uniforms worn like they were designed to be broken in properly. One of them—tall, dark-haired, confident—leans against the doorframe like she owns it.

“Hey,” she says, smiling. “You guys busy tonight?”

Ronan’s already on his feet. Finn straightens in his chair. Cyrus beams like Christmas came early.

“Depends,” Finn says smoothly. “What are you offering?”

“Party,” the girl says. “East wing. After lights-out.”

Cyrus gasps dramatically. “An after curfew party?”

The girl laughs. “You must be Cyrus.”

He straightens, preening. “I have a reputation.”

Ronan scoffs. “You absolutely do not.”

“We’re inviting you,” another girl says, eyes flicking between him and Finn. “All of you.”

Finn tilts his head. “Even this kid?” He gestures at Cyrus who nudges Finn’s shoulder aggressively.

“Especially him,” she says. “He’s fun.”

Cyrus looks thrilled.

I cross my arms. “And this isn’t a trap?”

The first girl smiles wider. “Only if you’re boring.”

Ronan exhales. “We’re in.”

Finn nods. “Obviously.”

Cyrus pumps a fist. “YES.”

The girls laugh and turn to leave, tossing their hair over their shoulders, “Don’t be late.”

The door slides shut.

Silence.

Then Cyrus spins on us. “We’re going, right?”

Ronan smirks at him as Finn both respond at the same time.

“Yes.”

I shake my head, already reaching for my jacket. “You’re all terrible influences.”

Cyrus beams. “You love us.”

He’s not wrong.

But unfortunately, I will have no choice but to go to this party tonight. Probability of getting caught by the Vanguard’s security team? High. Do any of care? No.

Because we’re all skilled enough to escape and fight if we need to. They train us to be something they can’t control, and one day, it will be their demise.