Page 40 of The Song of Sunrise
“Ahh!” I scream then fall into the water. My usual panic ensues until I recall all of the work I just did. I flutter my feet and circle my arms until I reach the surface and pull myself out to try again.
And again.
And again.
15
Lucky Lovely Ladybug
For the next four weeks, I return to the Lower Fields after Ramona falls asleep to train with my staff and work on the course. Most nights I improve, if even by a few seconds or making it to a new obstacle. But some nights I revert, and the panic takes hold. My legs, arms, and abs flex with more muscle than I have ever had before. Even the staff is starting to feel like an extension of myself.
It’s invigorating and exhausting at the same time.
So when I find myself at the point of utter exhaustion, I picture Marrow, Bane, Rosie, and the gaunt faces of the nomads, homeless and starving, just trying to survive in this broken, cold, and unforgiving world. And I am fueled. To do more, be greater.
Tonight is no different as I maneuver through the second to last obstacle. Two pillars rotate with sharp spikes jutting out on all sides. The spikes are about a foot each, honed to a perfect point, so sharp they could impale someone. Hopefully that willnot be the case and they have Moon’cher healers prepped and ready during the test.
No use in worrying about things outside my control.
This section has been the bane of my existence for the past few days, and I cannot seem to find the right timing in order to get to the other side without slashing my arm or backtracking to the starting ledge.
Finals are tomorrow, and if I don't make it to the other side of this blasted Battlefield course, I won't make the cut for the Presentation.
Pass this final by completing the course, complete the Presentation with an unforgettable demonstration of my magic and weaponry skills, then somehow manage to be selected as a champion from one of the fifteen rulers.
Absolutely achievable.
I huff a laugh. If everything goes to plan, these next few months will be worth stitching on a Teller patch.
I chance it and open up the door deep inside to the fury below. The place where I keep all of my rage simmering, the dark part of me inside that no one knows about but myself. I let it run over the edge enough to remind me of my purpose.
I stare at the pillars and watch as the deathly columns rotate and hum. Without thought, I begin to sing the lilting, repetitive tuneLucky Lovely Ladybug. A rather silly tune about a woman being married off to a notoriously horrible lord but escapes in the form of a ladybug.
Tonight, I am feeling lucky.
As I sing, my mind searches for the pattern, and… there it is! A brief opening where—if I sprint—I’ll be able to pass through unscathed. I just have to time it right. I wait, watch, and listen, the rhythm of my heart increasing as I prepare myself.
The spikes line up, and I run. Time seems to slow down, and for a terrifying second, I wonder if I miscalculated when the gapwould open, but I keep running until I reach the other side. So excited I made it through, I continue my momentum and pump my legs faster and faster until I’m flying over the last patch of open water to the sand beyond.
I land right on my tailbone and grab my butt as I roll to the side in pain.Ouch!The sand sticks to my sweaty arms as I roll in the pit.
The sand pit…
I fucking did it! I made it across!
I cup my hands on my face, already feeling the tears welling in my eyes, half from my aching tailbone, the other half from pride.
The sounds of the latch creaking open and shuffling footsteps in the background send a thread of panic through my veins. It’s relatively dim in the room, especially on this side of the course, but I slide onto my stomach, burrowing myself in the sand and getting as low as possible.
Surely cadets must be allowed to practice in the off hours, but I am not about to test out that theory now. I will my heart to stop beating so hard and work to slow my breathing.
“It’s getting worse. Dozens of villages attacked. People are turning to nomad organizations to provide instead of us. We are losing our grip on control,” a low feminine voice I don't recognize snarls.
“You think I do not know that?” a familiar male voice snaps.
My pulse quickens at the sound of his voice. Elder Superior Markus. Why is he here?
“We have to win. It’s the only way,” the woman says. “We’ve been waiting for years to collect the stones, dealing with the fallout of our powers decreasing with each generation.”
