The dimly lit room buzzed with anticipation as the children gathered in a ragged circle, their eyes darting between Mare and Typhon. The scent of sweat mingled with the faint trace of burnt wood, remnants of last night’s fire, and the atmosphere crackled with an energy that felt both foreign and exhilarating.

  Mare stood at the centre, arms crossed, her expression a mixture of determination and guarded enthusiasm. “Listen up! You’ve all been training hard, but now it’s time to put that training to the test.”

  “We’re holding a competition!” Typhon interrupted, face brimming with glee. Mare’s face contorted slightly in annoyance before facing the crowd once more, a stiff nod in agreement.

  A murmur rippled through the group, excitement mingling with trepidation. Hannah felt her heart quicken. The thrill of the unknown was intoxicating, yet a shiver of doubt crept in. Would she measure up?

  Mare continued, “The winners will earn the chance to go on your first mission in two months. You want to be the best, don’t you? Prove to me you’re ready to step into the real world.” Her gaze swept across the group, lingering on each child.

  “Two months?” Dax pressed, meeting Mare’s eyes. “What kind of mission?” The other children hushed at his question, staring with awe at his direct address. Kai stood his ground next to him, jaw tight.

  “That’s for you to find out!” Typhon chimed in once more, his playful grin shining in contrast to Mare’s seriousness. “But trust me, it’s going to be worth it. We’ll split you into teams, and you’ll face off in various challenges—strength, agility, strategy, and yes, even magic. It’s time to see what you’re really made of.”

  A sense of unity filled the room as they exchanged glances, unspoken determination flaring among them. Hannah could feel the fire within her beginning to stir, an ember that had been dormant, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

  Typhon turned slightly to Mare, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “You’re too serious, Mare,” he teased, a grin tugging at his mouth. “This is a festival, not a military drill.”

  She shot him a look, her jaw set, though her voice remained even. “Someone has to keep order, Typhon. Not everyone is here to play.”

  “Some things never change,” he said with a soft chuckle, leaning back with his arms crossed. “But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  Hannah felt her attention drift during their banter as the rest of the children began to chatter about the implications of the competition.. She caught sight of a flickering candle on a nearby table, its flame dancing, mesmerising. For a brief moment, she felt a pull towards it, a strange connection that made her heart race and her thoughts slow to a standstill.

  “Hannah?” Ellie’s voice snapped her back to reality. “Are you okay?”

  “I—yeah, I’m fine,” Hannah replied, shaking her head slightly as if to clear the fog. But the flame lingered in her mind, an unshakable whisper teasing at the edges of her consciousness.

  She didn’t answer, her gaze snapping back to the children. “We don’t have time for daydreaming,” Mare said sharply, her voice slicing through the scattered conversations. “The competition starts now! Form your teams, and remember—this is about showing what you can do together. Use your strengths, or you’ll fall apart.”

  Mare continued, voice projecting towards the crowd, “Now, we’ll give you one week to get yourselves in order. You’ll have your own rooms to train however you see fit.” Typhon interjected, hands moving out to his sides for the dramatics, “The running track here, is free reign! Well, if your group can keep the place for yourselves” he finished matter-of-factly.

  The use of the open field would be a decent spot to practice, with as much space as they could dream of they would be able to do more varied practice. Hannah could tell that Dax was thinking the same thing, as she spotted him deliberating with those followers of his. Hannah considered the location once more, then again the entire space was open. And very visible at that, anyone would be able to observe their movements. Which they could plan for in accordance, but recently Hannah was becoming more away from the eyes that were always on them.

  As the children scattered to form groups, the intensity in the room surged, each child eager to prove themselves. Hannah found herself gravitating toward Zephyr, Ellie, and Nia, their unspoken bond tightening around them like a thread.

  Just as they began discussing their strategy, Dax shouldered his way through, deliberately bumping into Ellie hard enough to send her stumbling into Nia’s arms. “Oh, didn’t see you there, short stuff,” he said with a sneer, his voice oozing sarcasm. The grin that followed was laced with menace. “You all might want to be careful. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt before the fun even starts.”

  Ellie straightened, her cheeks burning with frustration as Nia steadied her. Hannah felt a hot surge of anger bubbling up, her fists tightening at her sides. Zephyr stepped forward, his expression cold and unflinching, positioning himself between their group and Dax.

  “We’ll be fine,” Zephyr said, voice calm but sharp. “You worry about your own group.”

  Dax’s grin widened as he leaned in slightly, his eyes darting between them. “Oh, I’m not worried. We’ve already decided we’re taking the field for training. So, unless you want to get in the way... I’d suggest you find somewhere else to play.”

  The taunt hung in the air, thick with unspoken threat. Kai, standing just behind Dax, glanced at the group but stayed silent, his arms crossed.

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  Hannah met Dax’s gaze, feeling the heat rise in her chest, the flickering ember inside her threatening to flare. She wanted to push back, to make him regret trying to intimidate them. But before she could speak, Zephyr’s hand brushed against her arm—a friendly gesture of reassurance. He muttered under his breath barely moving his lips, “I’ve got this one,” before standing face to face with Dax.

  “We’ll train wherever we want,” Zephyr replied coolly. “And if you have a problem with that, well, we’ll see who comes out on top.”

  Dax’s eyes glinted with amusement. “We’ll see, alright.” He gave a mock salute before turning away, his laughter echoing as he walked off with his group. Kai lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on Hannah before he turned and followed.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” Nia muttered, her hand still resting on Ellie’s shoulder, her gaze locked on Dax’s retreating back.

  Ellie shook her head, frustration evident in her eyes. “He’s just trying to throw us off.”

  “We’ll show him what we’re capable of,” Zephyr said, his voice filled with quiet confidence.

  Hannah nodded, though her thoughts drifted again, the flicker of the nearby candle catching her eye. The flame seemed to beckon, and for a brief moment, she felt a strange pull—like something deep inside her was stirring, waiting to burst free.

  But not yet.

  Nia took a quick glimpse at Ellie before letting out a soft sigh, “Ellie you look like you’re about to explode with ideas, let’s get back to the room to talk strategy?” He offered, addressing the others. Ellie nodded vigorously, her imagination already crafting scenarios in her mind. “What if we…?” she began, launching into a flurry of ideas.

  As they huddled together, walking back to their room planning their strategy, Hannah couldn’t shake the feeling of heat simmering just beneath the surface.

  

  The day’s challenges had drained them, and the dim quarters felt even more cramped as they settled into their shared sleeping space. Ellie had talked of her fantastical ideas long into the night, although most appeared too fantastical to put into practice utilising the appearance of fairies to aid them in the competition. Once Zephyr and Nia transformed her ideas from mysticality to reality, Hannah and Atlas were then able to expand upon their core.

  This continued long into the night, and the group was beginning to feel their eyes weigh heavy, stifling a their yawns in quick succession. Although they could all agree that sleeping was well overdue, their anxieties took hold, forbidding them from sleep. Their minds racing a million miles a minute. Stuck in a limbo between desperately wanting to get under the covers but with a burning sensation behind their eyes, they stayed awake. Conversations dwindled, eventually ceasing as they stared into the nothingness of their room.

  Ellie let out a loud yawn, cuddling into Atlas’ side before she tentatively asked the room, “Does anyone know any good bedtime stories?” Atlas opened his mouth to speak before Ellie interrupted him, “And not you-Atlas,” she looked at him pointedly, “I’ve heard your stories over and over again”. Hannah chuckled slightly, “a good mundane story should put you to sleep, no?” Ellie just huffed indignantly. “That’s not the point!” she drawled, before scanning the room for any glimmer of hope.

  Nia caught her eye and spoke, “I remember some from when my mum would tell them to me, I could give it a go?”

  Ellie’s eyes visibly brightened as she nodded enthusiastically, pulling her and Atlas closer to Nia to hear better. Zephyr, intrigued, had a spark of amusement grace his features as he bent down, joining the others to hear the story.

  Nia cleared her throat and allowed her eyes to glaze over, as she began spinning a tale about a magical world where shadowy demons roamed and dreams came to life. As Nia’s voice softened to a whisper, a gentle silence settled over the room. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across their faces, stretching and bending like the dancing shadows in Nia’s story. The air grew still, filled only by the soft rhythm of breathing and the quiet creaks of the old floorboards beneath them. Hannah’s gaze drifted toward the dim glow of the candle, each flicker pulling her deeper into her thoughts.

  With her eyes closed, the warmth of that flame lingered in her mind—steady, inviting, and full of life. She could almost feel it nestled in her chest, a faint ember sparking a hope she’d nearly forgotten.

  Nia’s soft voice drew the children in as she spoke of a land blanketed in twilight, where only the bravest dared to venture out under the dim starlight. She described a vast forest where strange lights flickered in the trees—soft, pulsing glows that shifted and swayed as if dancing to an unseen rhythm. Creatures lurked in the shadows, their eyes gleaming like distant stars, watching every movement from the underbrush.

  Her words conjured images of mist-shrouded valleys and ancient ruins where heroes whispered their vows to protect each other, knowing their only strength was in their unity. The children held their breath, their eyes wide as they envisioned the mystical realm she painted with her words, a place both haunting and beautiful, where courage was forged in darkness.

  “...and then the shadows came alive, and they danced around the heroes, twisting and turning!” she narrated, her voice animated as she illustrated the scene with her hands.

  As the other children leaned in, captivated, Hannah’s thoughts drifted. She closed her eyes, envisioning the flickering flame from earlier, feeling the warmth and longing to embrace it. The candle’s flame trembled as if caught in Nia’s whispered magic, casting shapes that danced and flickered, blurring the line between story and shadow

  Nia continued, her voice softening drawing the children closer like moths to a flame. Even the distant sounds beyond their quarters seemed to fade into the background, leaving only Nia’s whispers and the hush of their breaths.

  “And the heroes knew,” Nia murmured, “that as long as they held onto each other, even the darkest shadows couldn’t harm them. They’d shine bright enough to chase every single one away.” Her eyes sparkled as she gestured, her hands casting soft shadows against the walls.

  “And so they fought a long battle with the shadows, breaths hitching and wounds deepening until the sun rose. With the fresh embrace of the sun’s rays the last of the shadows splintered into nothingness and the heroes stood victorious.”

  Ellie and Atlas nodded, sleeping, curling closer together. A rare calm filled the room, their fear and exhaustion softened by Nia’s tale. Hannah felt herself relax, too, her eyelids heavy yet her mind whirling. Her thoughts drifted back to that flame—the warmth, the way it seemed to live and dance on its own, a fragile spark of life she’d barely dared to touch. She could almost feel its flicker in her chest, pulsing softly like a heartbeat, steady and sure.

  Lost in that memory, Hannah’s hand unconsciously curled into a small fist. The quiet moment felt sacred, as if in holding on to that flicker, she might guard them all from the darkness lurking just outside these walls.

  “Do you think we’ll ever see a place like that?” someone asked in a sleepy mumble.

  Ellie smiled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe one day… if we keep dreaming.”

  The children murmured in agreement, and one by one, they drifted to sleep, the room settling into a hushed calm. But Hannah stayed awake, listening to their quiet breathing and feeling that small, warm flicker, her only comfort in the dark. Her hand curled unconsciously, the flicker within her chest feeling as real as the flame beside her, warm yet elusive, as though daring her to claim it.

  And as she finally closed her eyes, she made a silent promise to herself: one day, she’d find that warmth again—something real, something powerful enough to shield th