Chapter Seven

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   "Zaria?"

A hand shaking me awake, almost makes me fall out of bed. Lucy stands at my bedside.

"It is nine o' clock."

"Oh shit!"

I race to my wardrobe picking up anything I can. As I button up my new shirt, Lucy pulls at my hair, securing it in a braid. I am out the door faster than I startled awake. Lucy runs to catch up with me, handing me my board.

"Thank you!" I quickly check the time. 9:05. Looking down at the schedule placed before me, I skim the 9:00 column. He is in the sparring room for training. I run down the vast hallways, seemingly longer today than any other day, the twinge of smoke still making my lungs contract for a brief moment until I finally round the corner and make it to the correct hallway. Breathlessly, I walk down until I make it to the grand double doors. I take a moment to take a deep breath and prepare myself to go in. Slowly, I ease open the door wondering what I would be walking in on.

The sparring room is darkly lit. One beam of light illuminates the mat that Axil and his opponent spar on.

Axil stands ready at one side of the square. Unlike his usual blue, he instead wears a light white button up closed halfway up his chest. His slacks remarkably move with every movement, not restricting his lunges at all. His sword glistens in his hand, strong and sturdy. The look of strength etched on his face. I watch as he and his opponent spar. They show each other no mercy. This is a true fight. No holding back, or fake swords, but ruthless battling. That's what happens when you have to train for the approach of evil.

After some direct hits towards Axil, I see the struggle start to show on his face. Sweat beads on his forehead, his lip starting to quiver. His opponent takes advantage of his tiredness, knocking his sword out of his hand, as I once had. He falls to his knees, huddling into a ball.

I walk from the sidelines over to him, crouching beside his weakened body, resting my hand upon his back.

His chest heaves up and down, gasping for air. The supply never being enough. Struggling with his breath he still manages to get out, "I try... and try... I never get better. Never." Walking to get some water, the trainer gives us some space.

His cry rings in my head, the moment bringing back a memory.

One day during my training I learned how to fire a gun. I was only thirteen.

Damian had talked me through how to shoot someone effectively. He even showed me what it looked like when someone got shot. That whole week I was given a target to shoot at, and every day when I raised the gun, I could never get myself to pull the trigger.

Taking somebody's life felt wrong. Not only did it feel wrong, but I knew it was wrong. That was when her voice started, when I finally decided to pull the trigger. Since then, it has never stopped. It was another one of those nights that John and I spent holding each other half crying at life, and half trying to get the other person to laugh so that we could move on. I wish we could just have another moment like that but with all the crossings of John's arms, I don't think he will be in the mood for any hugs whatsoever.

"I think it best for the prince to have a rest," I say, nodding in the trainer's direction.

The trainer nods his head, leaving the two of us in the room. Axil leans over to where I crouch, and instead of John lying in my lap like I had remembered, it's Axil. My body goes stiff, my breath held and shocked. All is quiet as he lay tense over me. I have never been one to know how to comfort, but it's almost like the voice of my mother is back. Not to beg me not to do something, but encourage me. Without thinking, I place my hand on top of his head slowly moving my fingers through his soft golden hair.

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