NEVEN

A song rose through the halls of Euros citadel. It called out to a new day. A new promise. He lifted his face out of his pillow to rest his chin in the crease. Up in one of the wallbeds, Kemal curled against the wall with his back to the rest of the barracks. Water plopped into the self-sustaining fountain, and he twisted on his hip to listen to the chirps in the distance. Sounds. Noise. Music. Songs. His heartbeat hammered at the whisper tangling his feathers to gather it in his ears, and he hauled himself off the divot mattress as Trainees around him either breathed in silence, or at the worst, snored. His fingers found the soft edges of the down, and he stumbled off the mattress to sort through the trunk at the end of it. Fresh clothes sat in smaller sections, given by the Storm Wardens for his training.

Training... I wonder how different it will be to Sentinel training. A shiver spread through his temples at the slow shift of his fellow Trainees deep in sleep, a rude awakening ahead of them if they continued to slack into snowbanks. He shuffled over to the fountain to dip his fingers into the clear surface. It chilled the tips of his fingers, and he brought the droplets to his down and cleaned out the last day's pressure. It took a couple of passes to relax the downy barbs. One last check around, he hurried over to his open trunk to grab the clothes, but hesitated.

He whipped around for some sort of partition or covering, but he was left with barren nakedness. Frozen Hells! They didn't show us where we are to get changed! He dove into his blankets before swirling his frosted magick into the fabric to hold it over his head before allowing the corners to flutter down and shield him from scrutiny. He undid his pajamas before hurrying to don the training garbs, a loose fit for ease of movement, but he missed his scaled metal boots to give him the claws of his ancestors and a steady grip on slippery ground. Though the haphazard partition gave him no room to squeeze himself into his clothes while pushing his old ones into an empty section of the trunk for cleaning, he stretched himself out and checked the fit. Hm... There's no furs. This fabric isn't firewoven. He tugged on the cuffs, and he almost squeaked when his magick dissipated at his distraction and the blanket landed on his head. A hasty scramble freed him from its poufy tangles.

I will not be bested.

He escaped the bed to slip on his boots without claws. They needed to be broken in, but he bounced on his heels to check them before rushing out of the barracks and into the corridors of the citadel. Shadows danced along the grass with the orange glow sending a woven loom over the edges of the caldera when he rushed out of the nearest door to the outside to catch the light of the sun. He stopped in the training fields to stare upwards. It felt a little silly to stand alone in the fields, but where those of the sunlands raised with it each day, it was his first.

Behind the blizzard clouds.

He needed to see.

Tendrils of light crept along the ground and swung in the air as it exploded across the horizon. Radiant. Luminous. It chewed out the night's shadows and formed it into day. He pressed his hands against his chest when the cold gave way to a dew-scattered warmth across his skin. Twilight hues fluttered on purple flames as the sun eclipsed outwards. Sunrise, nothing more than a picture in Father's books, rising over the tundra to brighten the colours of the tundra. Legends. Myths.

Things his ancestor, Atoran Lotayrin, experienced without the blizzard's claws.

There were no words for the experience, on top of the world.

"I wasn't expecting one of my Trainees up so early — let alone the Naveeran. I was expecting you to have a bit of struggle with sun disorientation." Neven whipped around, a man in the gray leather armor of the Storm Wardens stood at the fence and tipped his head. His short hair stayed out of his face. "Where are the rest of you?"

"Sleeping." Neven pointed in the direction of the barracks. "Should I have woken them up?"

"Not your job unless you become Unit Leader, and even then," the Storm Warden said with a scoff. "Trainer Majen, by the way. I'm going to be your Unit's main Trainer from start to finish."

"I understand, Ser," Neven fell into a familiar rhythm to someone his senior, but jolted when Trainer Majen cackled.

"Ser? That's rich. Sorry, kid, Storm Warden's don't get such... extravagant distinctions to their names. People prefer to ignore our existence," Trainer Majen pointed out with a slight curl to his lips. "No need to call me Ser, Trainee. You can just refer to me as Trainer Majen, Majen, or Warden Majen."

Neven curled his fingers against his chest. "I apologise for my mistake, Trainer Majen." He bowed deep and readied himself for a flurry of corrections to his decorum, but he frowned when Trainer Majen clapped his palm against the wooden fence post.

"I'll be back with the rest of those in your Unit," Trainer Majen said without care for his lack of propriety. "Stay here. We start once everyone is gathered around."

People... prefer to ignore the Storm Warden's existence? Neven tried to wrap his head around his new Trainer's words. Derelict teeth slithered into his vision with a blood curdling moan against his spine. A dissonant song unable to be stopped by anything but the golden crescents. He stiffened into attention. It was nothing like standing at attention in the cold, sometimes for hours while Knight Valiant Utuvar tested and pushed the limits of the squires impatience for action — of which, near none of his fellow squires stomached the lack of motion. Frozen death. He tucked his hands behind his back and held himself straighter, feet planted into the grass.

Weird...

He turned to investigate the new scramble of commotion. Trainer Majen returned, with sleepy looking Trainee's. Among them, Kemal, who looked a lot less ruffled than some. Evani lumbered behind, dragging his feet, too much weight on one side. Neven studied the uneven gait, then frowned when his gaze landed on Yusari, who decidedly ignored him. Her stature raised in readiness, but too much force went through her footsteps. Neven kept quiet as Trainer Majen shepherded them into a firm line, and Neven adjusted himself to stand at the end, beside Kemal. Some of the Trainees glanced at him, though Yusari's last glance filled with annoyance and irritation, so he ignored her in turn.

Ten of them.

Enough for five pairs.

Anaysa mentioned something about teamwork being vital...

Trainer Majen studied them before folding his arms. "Welcome to Euros," he repeated the words of yesterday, "I'm Trainer Majen. I'll be who you answer to for the rest of your time here, until you take your Oaths." He stalked down the line, a sense of drive compared to Utuvar's steadfast presence. "Now, I am here to make sure you aren't killed by the first Derelict that passes you by. I'm here to train your bodies and minds up for the final test of conviction, but you are all here for the same reason. You have a desire to protect the light, to be a blade in the dark. As such, I will do my best to make sure you survive what comes." Trainer Majen gazed at them. "I don't expect all of you to survive your first few Turns out of training," he said, and some of the Trainees flinched. "Some, if not most of you will die due to Derelicts, whether directly or indirectly. It is a fact of life, even for non-Storm Wardens. I am going to give you the tools and knowledge to outlast them. Remember. We don't hunt them. They hunt us. We are the world's protectors against the Echo Obscura. We are all that stands between the world and the total consumption of it."

Neven shuddered at the cyclic memories as the Derelict launched itself out of a ruined tower, bathed in icicles along its spine.

"Any doubts or questions?" Trainer Majen finished with finality.

As expected, Kemal, the questioner, raised his hand.

"You." Trainer Majen pointed at him.

"Kemal Tyronai, Warden," Kemal said. "I'm just curious what our training will entail."

He's... not even going to wonder about the whole death part?

Or maybe he was wondering, and it was easier to not make mention of a Storm Warden's usual fate.

Trainer Majen nodded. "I'm sure some of you are expecting this to be constant spars and fighting. Knowledge can be just as effective as a blade, and can save your life in the most dire of circumstances. Yes, most of your training will involve the body, but I did make mention of the mind. You will be taught skills of survival, how to recognize and track Derelict formations. How to use the tools of our trade such as Resonators. The types of Derelicts you are likely to see." Trainer Majen stopped in front of Kemal. "Any other questions?"

"Yes."

Neven fought a smile.

"What are we going to do today?"

Trainer Majen leaned closer to Kemal, who frowned. "A warm-up down the Gauntlet for a start, Trainee."

"Gauntlet?" Neven murmured under his breath, trying to find the equivalent word in Navei, and jolted when Trainer Majen swiveled to him. Voice out of turn, he sucked in his lips. "Sorry, Ser..." He flinched, then corrected himself, "Trainer Majen."

Trainer Majen left his blatant disobedience, and Neven looked down the line. From Kemal, to Yusari.

Some, if not most of you will die.

Names unforgotten to the song. He resolved to learn each one and commit it to his melody of memories.

"First, I'm going to test you," Trainer Majen said. "Get an idea of your capability before throwing you straight into the brutality of the Gauntlet, so I know where to start. You can thank me later. Most Trainers would forgo this step." His smile turned devious. Neven tipped his head when Trainer Majen turned his back on them, before eyeing his fellow Trainees for an answer for what was about to happen next.

None of them appeared to know.

Our first test? Neven watched Trainer Majen.

His feathers prickled at the tug of air. It shuddered through his spine, and he dug his heels in when Trainer Majen's shoulder moved with his rising arm he hid. Neven curled his fingers then moved to settle it across his core, the center of his magick. In one instant twist, Trainer Majen turned with a growing, tornadic glyph, a powerful sweep to head straight for their line. Neven steadied his breathing, a fight in slow motion. Mist crackled across his palm as it rushed over the grass, with no way to leap over it, and no way to duck. Only to stand strong, a shield.

It blasted into his glyph to crack along the rims of sapphires.

Evani gasped and landed on his hindquarters.

Yusari stumbled with a grunt.

Others fell to their knees or flat on their backs.

Kemal took the gale as it came, without the protection of a glyph, and he hissed when he wiped his eyes of the dew.

Was that it—?

Neven froze when Trainer Majen ran straight for them, the last two still on their feet. In one quick flash, Trainer Majen latched onto Kemal, who waved his arms for assistance, but Neven found himself locked in place when Trainer Majen threw Kemal to the ground with ease. He went to step away, but roots tugged at his ankles. Downwards, they slipped out of hidden glyphs underneath the soil, preventing him from escaping. Hells! Neven tugged his magick closer to his body when Trainer Majen switched on his heel in one fluid, practiced motion. Another blast pierced the center of his glyph, and he held his ground against the gale.

It tightened into a small cyclone, and drilled into his glyph to scatter it. The vines tripped him. Ice slipped underneath his heel. He drew out the moisture in the air to swivel himself over the support of ice left to him. He gasped when Trainer Majen pushed his hands into the ice wall, and his legs came out from under him when he turned it against him.

"Hm." Trainer Majen hummed. "Okay, so maybe one or two of you have previous fighting experience — or at least passable footwork."

Neven scrambled to his feet when the other Trainees eyed him. Yusari downright glared at him — but his instincts had kicked in. Unease swept through his shoulders as they reflected the Volaris squires, an ideal to take down, to shake the pedestal. He stepped further back from Trainer Majen when he approached him.

"The thing is, Lotayrin," Trainer Majen said. "You could've avoided that if you had just acted to help out Tyronai." He sent one last gust into Neven's face, the real correction. "Teamwork. It is what will keep you alive, and the one thing I hope you take from this training. You can react to a problem, but if you're caught unprepared... it might not be you that dies. It'll be someone else who pays the consequences with their life." He gazed at him in particular. "You have excellent form, Lotayrin. Just get your feathered head out of the isolation. Your excellent form won't save you from a Derelict, what will save you is the people who stand beside you." He rolled his shoulders. "Follow me to the start of the Gauntlet. We're not finished yet."

Neven sank into his shoulders when the other Trainees nursed their wounded pride as they avoided him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to Kemal when he came to him.

"What?"

Neven tasted the song, and fell into the spiderweb. "I am sorry," he forced out in Common.

Kemal rubbed his windswept hair. "I'll get over it, should've realised something was up when I saw you move before he did," Kemal said, then raised an eyebrow. "I guess that's what you define as 'little' training?"

"Sorry," Neven repeated. "I should've... warned everyone."

But no, I focused my glyph only around myself... thought only of myself.

"I don't think there was time to warn everyone," Kemal observed as the group hobbled behind Trainer Majen.

Their gazes, frustrated, pointed at him.

If anything, he painted a target on his back for his instinctive reaction.