Chapter 2: The Rider's Quadrant

You may feel the weight of those who've already fallen—it's unavoidable. The list will grow, and you'll recognize names. Let yourself feel that loss, but don't let it stop you. The dead can't help you here. The battle will be lost if you stop fighting.

Excerpt of recovered correspondence of Lieutenant Xaden Riorson to Thana Valaren.

~

Thana stood vigil beside Liam as Captain Fitzgibbons read the names on the death roll. One by one, the names of the fallen were spoken for the last time at Basigath War College.

As she stood with the rest of the first years, the silver star stitched into her chest marked her rank, a status she had earned but resented. She hated being marked, hated the significance it carried, hated that it set her apart.

"We commend their souls to Malek," Captain Fitzgibbons said, his voice devoid of emotion as he read the final name.

She couldn't get the image of bodies being dragged from the ravine out of her mind. She wondered if that was the same courtesy they showed her father in the wake of his execution. She refused to let the mundanity of the death roll dishonour the marked ones who had died, so she whispered a prayer for every one of them. They deserved more than this, more than a cold recitation and an empty gesture to a distant god.

Exo Halt, their squad leader, stepped forward, addressing the first years with a grim authority. His younger brother had fallen from the parapet the day before, and Thana had barely slept thinking of that moment over and over again. She didn't know Exo well, but she had known his brother. She had been sick twice in the night thinking about it, imagining his body shattering to pieces as it hit the rocks in the ravine below.

Exo's voice was steady, betraying none of the grief she knew he had to be feeling. "Second and third years, follow your schedule. First years, you're on your own. Look out for each other. I expect every one of you to be alive in the sparring gym this afternoon."

Thana couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement at the mention of sparring. She had been agitated since she woke up the previous morning, the energy building inside her. She needed a release, and the gym was the perfect place to get it out.

Exo dismissed everyone, and the cadets dispersed. Liam started toward their first class, but Thana lingered. "I'll meet you there," she called after him, before making her way toward Exo.

She caught up with him just as he was about to leave the courtyard. "Exo," she said softly, falling into step beside him. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging her presence without looking at her directly.

"I'm sorry about your brother," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

He sucked in a shaky breath and distracted himself with the loose thread on the cuff of his fighting leathers. Without looking up he said, "Welcome to the Rider's Quadrant.

Thana clenched her fists, anger boiling beneath her skin. How could he be so detached? This was what Basgiath had turned him into—a soldier who buried his humanity beneath layers of duty and survival.

He glanced at her, his face set. "Get to class, Thana. That's an order."

She turned to leave, her heart heavy, but as she walked away, his voice stopped her in her tracks.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said, his voice softening for the first time.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she felt like the ground was slipping from under her feet. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and hurried away before the wave of emotion could crash over her.

Thana and Liam found their seats in Battle Brief, still reeling from the morning's events. They had come from History class, where Thana had barely kept her eyes open. The Professor's monotone voice had almost lulled her into a deep sleep, and only the sharp jab of Liam's elbow in her rib cage had kept her awake.

But now, as Professor Devera stood at the front of the lecture hall, all Thana could think about was Violet Sorrengail, sitting just a few seats away. Her mere presence grated at Thana's nerves. She still couldn't understand what kind of mother would send her daughter here—General Sorrengail of all people should know what becomes of lackluster cadets and the kind of the target Violet has on her head. She had heard Violet wanted to be a scribe and she would have safer in the Scribe's Quadrant.

After the class, Thana's gaze remained locked on Violet as they made their way to the sparring gym. Her fists clenched unconsciously, a cold fury burning in her chest.

Violet caught her staring and, to Thana's surprise, smiled, oblivious to Thana's desire for revenge. Before Thana could speak, Xaden intercepted her path.

"Walk with me," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Thana trailed behind Xaden in silence as they navigated the crowded halls of Basgiath. His stride was swift and deliberate, she could see his muscles working overtime under his fighting leathers. When he veered into a shadowed alcove near the eastern wall—tucked away from prying eyes—she braced herself for the same cold indifference he had shown since her arrival. But instead of distance, Xaden turned to face her, his expression unreadable. And then, without warning, he pulled her into a hug.

Thana stiffened, caught off guard by his embrace. She could feel his heartbeat inside his chest, the tension in his body giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. For a split second, the weight of her anger and confusion lifted, replaced by a rush of relief that mirrored his. Xaden was relieved—truly relieved—that she had made it across the parapet.

"Gods, Thana," he breathed, his voice rough, as if the words had been caught in his throat for too long. "I thought—when I didn't see you..."

She swallowed hard, her own emotions threatening to spill over. She hadn't expected this. Not from him. Not here.

"I'm fine," she said quietly, her cheek pressed against his chest. "I'm fine."

He held her tighter for a moment, as though grounding himself in the reality that she was there, alive and breathing in his arms. But when he pulled back, his expression had already shifted, the vulnerability slipping behind a wall of uncertainty.

Thana stepped back, searching his face, the words that had been simmering in her mind spilling out before she could stop them. "Why did you stop writing to me?"

The question hung in the air between them. Xaden's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers flexing at his sides. He face softened with regret, and before he could respond to her question, he took a deep breath and reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "Thana, listen to me. You need to stay away from Violet Sorrengail."

His words hit her hard, and she jerked her hand out of his. "What?" Her voice was incredulous, her anger sparking again.

"If you kill her, you hand your soul to Malek," Xaden said, his voice grave. "You can't trust anyone here, Thana. They won't care why you did it. They won't care about the choices you had. All they'll see is what you did—and there will be no mercy."

Thana seethed with the rage that threatened to consume her. Her south felt like a small price to pay for retribution.

Xaden's voice softened, a quiet desperation creeping in. "Please, Thana... stay away from her. I've already lost so much—too much. I can't lose you, too." His gaze held hers, raw and pleading, as if the weight of his words carried all the pain he hadn't shown before. "I'm asking you, for both our sakes—don't let this destroy you. You're everything I have left."

The bell rang in the distance, cutting through the tension between them. Xaden's head turned toward the sound, and with visible reluctance, he stepped back.

"I have to go," he said, his voice regretful. But before he turned to leave, he cupped her face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured against her skin, his breath warm. "We'll talk soon, I promise."

He turned and then we was gone, leaving Thana standing in the dimly lit alcove, her heart pounding in her chest.

She let out a shaky breath, confusion knotting in her chest as she struggled to make sense of it.

When Thana returned to the main hallway, Liam was waiting for her, a half-carved sculpture in his hand. As they walked toward the sparring gym, tension seized her muscles, tight and unrelenting, but then—Liam bumped his shoulder against hers, a quiet, familiar gesture. Something in her chest eased, and she realized just how much she had missed him.

As they entered the gym, they saw cadets gearing up for combat. The rhythmic sound of footfalls on the mat, the clash of weapons, and the sharp bark of commands from Professor Emetterio echoed through the hall.

Garrick was there, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, his eyes scanning the room with excitement. When his gaze settled on Thana, a smile flickered across his face as he waved them over.

"Finally," he said as they approached, his tone teasing but warm. "Thought you might've bitched out."

Thana gave him a tight smile, the weight of the morning's events still weighing on her. "Just took a detour."

Garrick raised an eyebrow but didn't press. Instead, he nodded toward the cadets currently in the ring. The first years were circling each other, hesitant and clumsy. Professor Emetterio, standing nearby, sighed in frustration. "Stop dancing and attack," he barked.

"Tell me what they're doing wrong," Garrick said.

Thana crossed her arms, watching them for only a few seconds before rattling off her observations. "Footwork's too wide—they're leaving themselves open. The taller one keeps overreaching on his strikes. If the shorter one wasn't so scared, he could've already had him on the ground."

Garrick's grin widened, impressed. "Good eye." He turned to her, lowering his voice slightly, "And what are you going to do about that? When it's your turn?"

The question hit her with a jolt of anxiety, but she quickly swallowed it down. Thana glanced at Liam beside her, who gave her a reassuring nod.

"I'll make sure they don't get a chance to expose my weaknesses," she said, her voice steady.

"Exactly," Garrick said, slapping a hand on her shoulder. "Trust your instincts."

The words settled something inside of her. Garrick wasn't just a mentor—he was family. He had trained under her father for years, and in a strange way, by learning from him she felt a connection to her father, as if a piece of him still remained.

Her focus shifted as the current match ended, the two cadets leaving the ring battered and breathless. The room seemed to shift with a collective breath as Professor Emetterio called forward the next pair.

"Violet Sorrengail and Imogen Cardulo," the professor barked, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the room.

Thana's pulse quickened. Imogen was a name she hadn't heard in a long time, but she recognized the girl instantly aside from the pink hair. They had crossed paths a few times when they were younger—back when their lives were simpler. She had heard whispers of Imogen's lineage, but seeing her now, it was unmistakable. Imogen was one of them, a child of the rebellion. The rebellion relics on Imogen's arms confirmed it. Distinctive marks that served as a form of punishment and identification. The sight of them made Thana feel sick.

Next to her, Garrick looked on with a quiet admiration. "Carludo's kid," he muttered, "her Dad was one of the best riders I ever heard of. Used to ride with your dad from time to time." Thana went pale.

Imogen stepped into the ring with Violet, her movements less refined than Thana had expected. She was strong—Thana could see that—but her strikes lacked precision. She moved with determination, but not with the finesse of a seasoned fighter. Thana's fists clenched unconsciously. Why did it bother her that Imogen was earning Garrick's respect when Thana knew she could've done better?

Violet, for her part, was quicker but hesitant. Her smaller frame allowed her to dodge Imogen's heavier blows, but she wasn't confident, and it showed. As Imogen pressed harder, Violet's uncertainty began to cost her. The room grew tense with each strike, Imogen's frustration building as she tried to land a decisive hit.

Garrick leaned closer to Thana, eyes glinting with interest. "See that?" he whispered, nodding toward Imogen. "She's not as sharp as you, but there's something raw there. Natural."

Thana swallowed the bitter taste of jealousy that rose in her throat. She knew Garrick wasn't comparing them intentionally, but the comment still stung. Natural. He'd never called Thana a natural.

Imogen landed a heavy strike, and Violet stumbled, her breath coming in short gasps. For a moment, it seemed like Imogen might overpower her entirely, but Violet wasn't done yet. She twisted out of Imogen's grip, using her agility to dart away and land a clean strike on Imogen's side.

The room stirred with murmurs as the fight escalated. Imogen, now visibly frustrated, swung wide, and Violet took advantage of the opening. She slipped under Imogen's arm, her quick reflexes allowing her to land another hit. Imogen grunted in pain but didn't back down. She charged again, this time with less control, her desperation starting to show. Thana wondered if Garrick still thought of Imogen as a natural.

Violet dodged, but this time she wasn't fast enough. Imogen caught her by the arm, twisting with all her strength. There was a sickening crack as Violet's arm gave way, her cry of pain cutting through the noise of the gym.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Thana's heart raced as she watched Violet crumple to the ground, clutching her arm in agony. The satisfaction she expected didn't come. Instead, there was only a deep, unsettling discomfort.

Imogen stepped back, breathing hard, her face a mixture of triumph and shock. She hadn't meant to break Violet's arm—Thana could see that in her eyes—but it had happened nonetheless. Professor Emetterio called an immediate end to the match.

Liam's hand brushed against Thana's, a silent confirmation that he found this just as unsettling. He was formidable in combat, but this—the part where people got hurt—was what he hated most. He had always believed there were better ways to train.

They watched as Xaden rushed to Violet's side, concern etched on his face. Thana forced herself to turn away, unable to make sense of why he was helping her. Garrick clapped her on the shoulder, oblivious to the turmoil inside her. "Your turn next time," he said with a grin, "and I expect you to put on a better show than that."

Thana forced a smirk, but inside, her anger raged on.

And she knew—soon, that fury would need an outlet.