Page 104 of Daughter of the Serpent

“What are we doing here?” She asked, avoiding his gaze. “Why aren't we on the training grounds?”

Something shifted in his features as he pushed away from the tree, his movements fluid, his dark leathers whispering against the bark. He walked past, close enough that she caught the faint scent of forest and brine. “It’s time for the next phase of your education,” his voice carried a weight that made her pulse quicken. He gestured to her fighting leathers with a lazy flick of his wrist. “But, you won’t be needing those.”

Her jaw clenched, irritation flaring at the cryptic nature of his words, but curiosity clawed at her despite it. He moved past her, a silent invitation for her to follow, and before she knew it, they were moving even deeper into the village core.

“Where are we going?” Sylvie asked as she tried to match his step. Despite following in the true Mardovian stature, Axel’s stride largely extended hers, and she found herself quickening her pace. Each step brought them deeper into the village’s heart, and with every turn, the cheers and groans grew louder, a living pulse that thrummed through her bones.

“You’ll see.” He replied. “Keep up.”

She bit back a retort, clamping down on the frustration rising inside her. Just like his stride, Axel was always just out of reach - an enigma wrapped in silence. She was tired of trying to make sense of him, his guarded expressions. Why couldn’t he just speak plainly? Aknot of irritation twisted tighter in her chest, but beneath it pulsed something more dangerous: a restless curiosity, a craving to understand him. She wanted to peel back the layers, to know what drove him, what kept him hidden behind those amber eyes. What did he think of her, truly? Was she, to him, like Haldor’s assessment - young, naive, too innocent for her own good? Or did he see her as something more, the person she fought to become each day?

She caught herself, hating the neediness of her thoughts. But no matter how much she tried to shake it, she couldn’t deny the pull. She wanted his approval. Needed it, even. The desire to prove herself to him coiled around her heart like a vise, tightening with each passing moment. It wasn’t just Axel, though. It was a pattern she knew all too well - an endless chase for validation, the constant struggle to prove she was worthy in the eyes of others. Her whole life had been a battle to be seen, to be deemed enough. Here in this world, strength and recognition meant survival, and the yearning for both had seeped into her very bones.

Eventually he came to an abrupt stop, his hand halting her in her tracks. The cheers had gotten louder, and her breath caught in her throat when she finally saw the source of the commotion - the village circle. The usually quiet space, used for feasting days and communal gatherings, now buzzed with a different energy. Delegates clashed in the ring, their movements sharp and eager, the crack of wooden shields and the clash of metal reverberating through the air. Dust swirled around their feet, kicked up by the intensity of the fight, and the scent of sweat and dirt lingered in the breeze. The villagers had gathered around the ring in droves, their murmurs blending together in a continuous hum, some jostling for a better view, as others placed their wagers and bets. At the forefront, the village elders watched with an eerie stillness, their faces stone - cold, detached. It was clear they each weighed the worth of each warrior stepping into the ring.

Many had come to participate.

Clans from near and far presented their most promising warriors, eager to prove themselves worthy of the trials ahead. Sylvierecognized some of their faces - Eddar, Frega, Jardin, and Cora, each skilled in their own right. She spotted Haldor among them, his ruddy hair pulled back in a tight knot, highlighting the blue of his eyes. New fighting leathers clung to his body accentuating his muscled frame, long sword glinting in his hand. A thin line of sweat trailed down his temple, mixing with the streaks of blood splattered across his cheek. Sylvie's heart pounded, a nervous heat spreading through her limbs. She hoped he had been healing well, and that his wounds wouldn’t hinder. She couldn’t look away, even as her instincts screamed to maintain her distance. The need to make sure he remained unharmed coiled tight in her gut, but she forced herself to swallow it down.

“Stay close to me,” Axel murmured, his voice a low growl as they edged deeper into the crowd. His hand brushed against her arm - just for a moment - a touch that might have seemed reassuring if not for the tension lacing his movements. She could feel the pressure in his words, the urgency beneath the calm. It wasn’t just a suggestion; it was a warning.

She could already feel the eyes sliding in on her - onthem.

It wasn’t just her now that the people’s eyes drew too, but also Axel. With his midnight hair and golden eyes, he stood out like a raven amongst the sea of her pale - haired, light - eyed brethren. Like her, he was a foreigner, a threat - untrustworthy.

The fact that he had come to her aid, only carved his fate further in stone.

As they threaded through the crowd, it was clear they had been noticed. The elders' cold stares bore into them from their high back seats at the front of the ring, their disdain carved into every hardened line of their faces. Rederick stood at the center, his face darker than the rest. His nostrils flared with each breath, and his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line as their eyes locked. His gaze burned in her, a twisted darkness glinting in the depths. Clenching her jaw she wrenched her gaze away, turning toward Axel instead.

“Why are we here?” She pressed, pulling closer.

“To observe.” He said finally. “It is vital that you know your opponents.”

She had been warned that none could be trusted, not even her own kin, her own comrades. Everyone could easily turn against each other in pursuit of fame and glory.

“You must learn how they move, how they fight. Their strengths, weaknesses.” He said. “You must know whom to ally yourself with come the time.”

She watched as another delegate pinned another to the ground with a thud.

“Your alliances can be what stands in your way of life and death.”

Sylvie’s eyes went wide as she studied the arena, her heartbeat rising. Her eyes flicked from face to face,would any of them be willing to stand alongside her?

Defeat quickly settled within her like a stone.

“I have no allies here,” she said, feeling the isolation settle in her gut. “No one but Haldor and Thyra would ever stand with me.”

Axel’s eyes met hers, a certain challenge within them. “You don’t know that. You’ve shown your strength, Sylvie - more than once. You’d be a valuable ally to any of them.” He looked back out over the arena. “The real question is, who can match you? Who can counter you? Who might seek to use your power for their own advantage?”

She nodded, taking in his words.

Could anyone see her that way? A strength, rather than a weakness?

The horn blew, splitting the air, and the sound of clashing shields and blades rang out as they commended another round of sparring. The fighters moved with brutal grace, iron meeting iron in a chorus of violence. Sylvie’s heart pounded in her chest, the energy of the ring vibrating through her.

“Watch them,” Axel said beside her, his eyes never leaving the combatants. “See how they move, strike, how they retract.”

Sylvie forced herself to focus, studying the fighters as they moved through the dust and the roar of the crowd. Axel’s presence besideher was like a shadow, dark and inescapable, but she clung to his words. If she could learn, if she could understand these warriors, she might stand a chance. And yet, with every clash of metal and every roar from the crowd, she felt the gulf between herself and the others widen - between those who thrived in the spotlight, and her, always struggling in the shadows.

---