More Than Imagined

Chapter 13

After a grueling night of repetitive motion and bruising blocking, Rhoawyn was shocked she had enough strength to drag herself into the training hall. Most everyone wore the same sunken posture and drowsy eyes as she did, so she didn't feel so bad about arriving a minute later.

She had her own room in the IOB; They tacked it on to the larger suite she shared with the rest of her squad. The room itself was 2 times the size of her old house—all silver walls and soft furnishings. But the beds were the best thing about the suites. When she first lied down on hers, plush and flush against her, she thought it must be what real clouds feel like—not the artificial ones in The Apex. She never wanted to leave it.

But she had other obligations, and when she saw everyone turn to give her a mixed bag of judgmental looks, Rhoawyn knew she should have made better time. As if punishing her before she had the chance to do it herself, the match-maker shuffled through a list of names and promptly stopped. When it put her up against Jazara in the next sparring session, Rhoawyn already knew how the match would end. And by the pleased look on her face, Jazara knew too.

They'd spent the past few nights running through all the drills. Eli spent extra time trying to get Rhoawyn to commit every movement to memory. And she remembered. But her stances still weren't solid enough—and what's worse is she still had not manifested.

But Jazara was a conqueror, at least that's what Winfrey said. A solid force that would power through any difficulty, just like the bat engraved in her leg. On their third night of training, she manifested the full length of gravemark.

Jazara stepped onto the mat, head held high. Rhoawyn wished it was on a pike. Maybe that's a little harsh?

But it's all Rhoawyn could think as she prepared to face her. Throughout their entire time training as a group—as partners—Jazara had done nothing but laugh, or glare, or straight up yell at her when she failed to manifest. Jazara hadn't been able to manifest at the beginning either, but when she finally drug that blunt bludgeon out of her calf, her attacks on Rhoawyn became more vicious.

When she thought Rhoawyn was taking too long, or the sight of her failure disgusted her a little too much, she would swing her bat so close to Rhoawyn's face she feared she might not have a head on her shoulders for too much longer. Even in her current state, even if she knew she didn't stand a chance, Rhoawyn would not let Jazara think she had crushed her spirit.

"So you took Winfrey up on his offer to train you? Must have really thought I could beat you, " Rhoawyn said, stepping onto the mat. Her confidence was a facade.

Jazara likely didn't want anyone to know, but Rhoawyn had seen her begrudgingly ask for Winfrey's help one night. Even in her current state she still used up too much energy every time she manifested, and in an actual battle, it would likely cost her life.

"Guess you should stop making assumptions, huh? Now you're going to lose." Jazara's smirk was wicked—taunting. "I ended up getting a few pointers from Eli, too. He said my technique was the best he'd seen."

Rhoawyn didn't think she was one for overreacting, but she had been learning so many things about herself during this entire ordeal that never flourished in The Apex. She knew what Jazara said was a lie, but hearing it still caused red-hot anger to balloon in her chest. She lunged at Jazara—abandoning her wits and solid stance.

Jazara smacked into the ground after a quick sweep from Rhoawyn's leg. Rhoawyn moved so quickly Jazara didn't get the chance to manifest. Rhoawyn was surprised to have gotten the drop on her—ecstatic, really—so she gloated.

"That big head of yours getting too heavy?" Rhoawyn asked as she stood over Jazara.

Jazara too a page out of Rhoawyn's book though, catching her by surprise and landing her just as hard on her back—the shine of her bat glinting into Rhoawyn's spotty vision.