Sunlight filtered through the jagged canopy of fungus-covered trees above the training grounds—an open field just outside the colony's borders. The mottled light spilled across the battered terrain, casting long shadows over the churned soil and crushed moss. The scent of damp earth mingled with the iron tang of dried sweat, and the ghost of countless battles lingered in the air. This wasn't a place of peace. It was where warriors were forged.
Isla stood at the edge, her armored fingers trembling as they hovered near her sides. Her mandibles—curved like twin sabers—felt foreign today, heavy and wrong. Her body was too light, too unsteady, as if her legs no longer knew how to bear her weight. Her heart thundered inside her chest, faster than it ever had during inspections or drills. This wasn't like the sparring matches with Anastasia where Rory and Ari fought beside her. This was real. Two Corporals. No backup. No mercy.
She was alone.
Her breathing stuttered, shallow and panicked. Her pulse roared in her ears. She wanted to turn back, to disappear into the tunnels where fear dissolved into the walls. Her chest tightened until it hurt.
"You alright?" Corporal Lily asked, voice airy as always but tinged with something sharper. She leaned forward, brushing her vibrant orange braid over her shoulder. Her smirk was playful, but her eyes scanned Isla carefully.
Isla's throat sealed shut. She couldn't answer, couldn't move.
Lily tilted her head, then gave a lopsided grin. "If you fall apart now, I'll have to carry you back to the barracks like a wounded larva. That's gonna be hard on my back, you know. You don't want that, do you?"
Still nothing.
Beatrice stepped forward, steady as stone. Her eyes were calm, unreadable, but her voice was gentle. "You're scared, Isla. That's okay. Fear doesn't make you weak. It means you care. It means you know what's at stake."
"I just—I don't think I belong here," Isla whispered, her gaze fixed on the cracked soil. "I'm not like Ari or Rory. I freeze when it matters most."
Lily's teasing edge softened, arms crossing over her chest. "You're not the only one who's ever felt like that," she said, her gaze flicking toward Beatrice for a split second. "Everyone starts shaky. The trick is turning that fear into something useful. Fuel. Direction."
Isla's voice trembled. "I try, but it doesn't go away. I keep seeing Hopper's face in my head. The way he looked when—"
Her voice broke, the memory clawing at her throat. Her fingers curled into tight fists.
Beatrice's expression darkened with understanding. "You want to fight him. You want to stop him. But that isn't something you can do with hope alone. You need strength. And strength only comes when you choose to grow—right now. Not later."
"What if I'm not strong enough?" Isla's words escaped in a breathless rush. Her shoulders trembled, the air thick in her lungs.
"You might not be," Beatrice said bluntly. "But you'll never know unless you stand up and try."
Lily took a step closer, crouching slightly to meet Isla's eyes. "Trust me, I was a disaster the first time I fought. I could barely hold my mandibles right. And they're half the size of yours. Look at me now—total menace."
Beatrice rolled her eyes. "More like a loud distraction."
"Distraction or not," Lily said with a wink, "I learned because I failed. And you will too, if you don't quit."
Isla blinked at the two of them. Her legs still trembled, but their words rooted her, grounding her in something real. Slowly, she looked up.
"How do I start?" she asked.
Lily smiled. "By standing."
It sounded absurd. Too simple. But Isla straightened her back, took a breath, and lifted her head.
Beatrice gestured to the open field. "Get your mandibles ready."
With shaking hands, Isla slid them into their grooves along her forearms. They clicked into place. Heavy. Cold. But not unfamiliar.
"This is a 2v1," Beatrice continued. "Not to break you, but to shape you. We'll push you hard. That's the only way you'll learn. If you want to stand with Ari and Rory, you'll need to learn how to hold your ground—no matter how many come at you."
Lily grinned. "Just don't pass out. I'm not dragging your corpse off the field."
Isla gave a faint smile, the knot in her chest loosening just a little.
Beatrice moved first—a slow, deliberate feint.
Isla flinched but didn't fall.
Then Lily was on her—fast, a blur of orange and glinting blades. Isla jerked back, too slow, and in an instant, she was on the ground. Her mandibles clattered beside her.
She gasped, the moss scraping her back, the air knocked from her lungs.
Lily stood over her, hands on hips. "Well, at least now I know you can fall with style."
"I—I can't—" Isla stammered, curling into herself. Her breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts.
"You didn't run," Beatrice said as she knelt beside her. "You're still here. That's the beginning."
"I'm scared," Isla admitted, the words barely a whisper. "It—it's like my body won't move when I need it to."
Lily crouched beside her, tapping Isla's forehead lightly with one finger. "That's just your brain screaming at you. You gotta scream louder. Trust your body more. When I fought my first battle, I was shaking so bad I almost stabbed myself."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah. Nearly poked my own leg off. Embarrassing, but I got better."
Beatrice's voice steadied the air. "When the moment comes, you won't have time to think. You'll need to trust your instincts. The only way to sharpen them is by failing here. Not on the battlefield. Here."
Isla's head drooped. Her hands clenched tighter around the moss beneath her. "I want to be better. I want to stand with everyone else."
Beatrice nodded. "Then prove it. Get up."
The sun hung lower now, its golden rays catching the edges of Lily's braid and Beatrice's armor. Isla pushed herself up, her limbs trembling. Her heart still raced. But she stood.
And she stayed standing.
Again they attacked. Beatrice came in straight and steady, and Isla raised her mandibles just in time to deflect. The clang rattled her bones. Lily was a blur at her flank, and Isla twisted, barely ducking under the sweep of her blade.
"Almost kissed you with that one!" Lily chirped as she darted away.
Isla's foot slipped, and she stumbled backward, but she didn't fall this time.
Again. And again. Isla was knocked down. Hard.
But every time, she got back up.
Her footwork was clumsy. Her strikes too slow. But slowly, her form adjusted. Her stance solidified. She began to read their movements, to anticipate, even if her body didn't always keep up.
"Nice parry," Lily remarked after Isla deflected another blow with trembling arms. "But you gotta hit me eventually. I don't plan on falling over out of pity."
"I'm trying!" Isla panted, sweat dripping from her brow.
"Try faster!"
Beatrice's next strike grazed Isla's shoulder, but she twisted, staying on her feet.
"Good," Beatrice murmured. "You're listening to your body now. Less hesitation."
"Still scared," Isla gasped, her breaths ragged.
"That's fine," Lily said, sidestepping her next swing. "Means you're thinking. Just don't let it chain you."
"Let your instincts speak louder than your doubt," Beatrice added, pressing her forward with steady advances.
By the time they ended the session, the field was quiet again, save for Isla's ragged breathing. Sweat clung to her, and her limbs trembled with exhaustion. But the tightness in her chest had eased.
Beatrice rested a hand on her shoulder. "You did good."
Lily gave a thumbs-up. "Didn't die. That's a win."
Isla laughed—weak, surprised. It didn't feel like defeat this time. Just fatigue.
"I didn't run," she whispered.
"No," Beatrice agreed. "You didn't."
As they walked back to the barracks together, Lily draped an arm lazily around Isla's shoulders. "Next time, try aiming somewhere other than my braid. It's not a weapon, you know."
"It was swinging in my face," Isla muttered, managing a faint smile.
"Excuses, excuses."
Beatrice's soft chuckle followed behind them.
That night, back in the barracks nestled near the edge of the field, Isla lay curled beneath a frayed woolen sheet, her mandibles resting beside her on the floor. Her muscles ached. Her thoughts swirled. But sleep came easily.
And for the first time in days, the weight pressing down on her shoulders felt just a little lighter.