The golden-orange hues of dusk had already faded into a deep cobalt when the duels finally ended for the day. Whispers filled the air like restless spirits- whispers of the fights and most of all, the match that was scheduled for dawn tomorrow: Emmeranne versus Ambrose.
But Aiden wasn't thinking of Emmeranne. Not entirely. His mind was fragmented: frayed at the edges like an old book. He was exhausted, the type of exhausted that didn't settle in your bones but hollowed out your mind. He looked pale, almost translucent under the warm lights of the dining hall. His plate was barely touched, though he tried to make it look like he was eating, cutting his bread and nudging vegetables around his plate.
After dinner, they practiced. Adrian threw tight, sharp shadow strikes that Aiden dodged with uneven footwork.
