Phoenix Warriors

Part 2

The weeks after the tournament were a blur of silence, isolation, and emptiness. I didn't speak to anyone—not a single soul. Not Atlas. Not Garick. Not even Xavier, and even if I had wanted to, I couldn't. He and the Six had been sent to fight some battle the rebels launched in the far-left lands of the kingdom. I didn't ask for details; I didn't care to know. Their absence suited me. It gave me the excuse to stay locked inside myself, drifting through the days with a hollow sort of detachment, like I was watching my life unfold from the outside.

There was a time I would've sought them out, would've asked for guidance or leaned on their presence. But now? I felt nothing. Just an emptiness that gnawed at me, deep and aching, but never sharp enough to break the surface. If anything, it felt like the world had faded into the background, like the colours had all washed out, leaving only shades of Gray. Even my reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger some days.

I would stand there after cleaning myself up—pristine, scrubbed clean of all the blood, all the sweat—and yet I still saw it. I saw the images of myself drenched in the blood of cadets I didn't even know, and Rion's lifeless eyes staring back at me, accusing, empty. I saw his blood coating my hands, my clothes. No matter how many times I scrubbed myself raw, I couldn't erase it. I couldn't escape the memories.

And I couldn't close my eyes without seeing his face, twisted in pain as the blade sank into his chest, his screams still echoing in my ears. If I ever wondered if the royal family hated me, I didn't need to anymore. Of course they did. I killed their nephew, their prince. And for what? To survive? To win? The victory felt like ash in my mouth. Nothing tasted right anymore.

I found myself spending more and more time under the tree. It was the only place that brought me a sliver of peace, especially at night. No one else ventured out there in the dark, and that suited me just fine. I didn't want company. I didn't want anyone to ask if I was okay. I didn't even know how I would answer them if they did. The only thing that made sense these days was the stillness of the night, the way the moonlight filtered through the dark branches, casting patterns across the ground. But even then, the peace was fleeting.

Classes had become a blur, each one bleeding into the next. I couldn't tell you what we were learning—my mind was elsewhere. Everyone else seemed consumed by talk of the upcoming celebration ball. The kingdom was throwing some grand affair, inviting everyone who mattered. The king and queen would be there, naturally, along with all their important guests and allies. The cadets who had survived the trials were invited too. Of course, they were. A reward, I suppose, for surviving the carnage.

I was dreading it. The thought of being in that room, surrounded by people who were probably whispering about me behind their hands, made my skin crawl. I didn't want to dress up, didn't want to smile and pretend I was fine. But I knew I would have to. I couldn't hide under the tree forever.

The sun had set, and the moon had risen by the time I made my way to the tree that night. It had become my refuge, the only place I felt I could breathe. As I reached the familiar spot beneath its sprawling branches, I laid down, staring up at the sky through the tangled limbs. The stars were scattered across the dark expanse, bright and distant, as if mocking the insignificance of everything down here.

I tried to focus, tried to listen deeper, the way I used to when the wind carried her voice—the lady in the breeze. But she was silent now. No matter how hard I strained to hear her, the faint, comforting voice was gone. I'd been trying for weeks to reconnect, to hear something, anything that could guide me, reassure me, but nothing came. Just the rustling of leaves, the occasional gust of wind, but no words. No presence.

It was like she had vanished, just as quickly as she had appeared. I don't know what I expected. Maybe I'd relied on her too much. Maybe I'd imagined her all along. The thought gnawed at me, leaving me feeling even more alone.