Phoenix Warriors

Chapter 2

I awoke to the blaring sound of a large horn. At first, I was jolted upright, heart racing as I scrambled to make sense of the noise. Oh right, I thought groggily, remembering where I was. The horn was a morning call, signaling the start of another day in this place.

I glanced at the small clock on the wall next to my bed. The big hand and the little hand were perfectly aligned on the number 6—right on the dot. I let out a slow breath and swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the chill of the stone floor against my feet. The room was tiny, barely enough space for the single bed I was on, a small desk with a wooden chair, and a narrow wardrobe. The wooden door was plain and unadorned, just like the rest of the room. There wasn't much to it, but it was mine for now.

I stood up and stretched, the stiffness from sleeping in a new place settling into my bones. I grabbed my clothes from the wardrobe: fitted leather pants and a matching leather vest with a multitude of pockets. Practical and suited for hiding daggers—essential for someone like me. I slipped into the outfit, appreciating how snug it felt, and quickly braided my very, very long brown hair. The braid fell neatly down my back, and I tucked the end into the back of my shirt to keep it from getting in the way.

First impressions matter, I reminded myself as I glanced in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me looked ready for action, or at least as ready as someone could be when faced with the daunting task of surviving this place. I gave myself a quick nod, as if that would magically boost my confidence, and headed out of my room.

The corridors were bustling with early risers, all heading towards the Great Hall for breakfast. I navigated through the crowd, still getting used to the size and the layout of the place. As I made my way through, I ran into Atlas and his mates, the group from yesterday.

Atlas spotted me immediately. "Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," he said with a grin that was too charming for his own good. "You look good—really. Didn't think you'd clean up so well."

Thanks, I think? I was about to respond when he cracked one of his usual jokes. "Just don't let the other guys get too jealous of your style," he added, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He gave a subtle nod to the empty space next to him, a silent invitation to join them at their table. I sat down with a grateful sigh, just as Peter, the friend who had been under Atlas's arm yesterday, introduced himself.

"Hey, I'm Peter," he said, his voice warm and welcoming. He was tall, with blonde hair that looked like it had been kissed by the sun, and light blue eyes that reminded me of a stormy sea—vivid and intense.

Peter motioned towards the quiet one from yesterday. "And this is Rowan," he said. Rowan had pale, freckled skin and dark red hair that looked like it had been set aflame by a flickering fire. He offered a simple smile and a muted "Hi" before returning to his food, seemingly engrossed in the task of arranging his breakfast on his plate.

"So, Tahlia," Peter began, looking at me with a friendly curiosity. "What made you decide to join us here? You don't exactly look like the average cadet."

I chuckled softly. "Nothing special, really. Just needed a change of pace. And, well, here I am."

Atlas leaned in, flashing that mischievous grin again. "Well, you've certainly picked the most exciting place for a 'change of pace'. Hope you're ready for what's coming."

I nodded, meeting his gaze with a grin of my own. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

The conversation continued, with Atlas and Peter trading jokes and stories. Rowan remained quiet but seemed more relaxed, occasionally looking up from his food to join in with a nod or a brief comment. The lively atmosphere of the breakfast hall, combined with the camaraderie at our table, was a welcome contrast to the cold stares and silent judgments from yesterday.