Camille sat on the edge of the couch, hand resting on her forearms and stared into Lesskov back. The man was next to the bar, wasting time to readjust every frame the girl had moved. He had not spoken once after inviting the girl to sit, leaving the toom to be conquered by an ominous silence. That last was slowly biting into the girl. Her index had not stopped moving since she sat down, betting in perfect tempo her soft skin. She couldn’t graze Lesskov mind. Her psylink was shut down by the cocktail of fear and stress boiling in her veins.

Lesskov turned back at her, and she loomed on the other side before crossing his gaze. The man was an emotionless statue. Lips straight as a wall, he tweaked in place the last frame while watching Camille’s long hair. His cheekbones shuddered as melancholia make it across the rampart he had built between his feeling. With a swing of the head, he warded it off and spoke.

“Are you hungry?”

“No—Not really.” The girl answered without facing him. “I don’t need anything.”

Lesskov moved around the bar to reach the kitchen. Something was off with the girl. She was too distant, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. Camille could have answered that question but thinking about the subject was like allowing someone to grab her heart. Each time it crossed the flow of her mind, her blood pulsed with frenzy. The teenager was blazing more than a sun. Luckily, her instructor’s careful watch couldn’t pass through her silky dark hair. The man opened the fridge and extracted two drinks. He abandoned a can of soda and a beer on the low table. In the same motion, he returned near the entrance. She moved back her gaze on him, just in time to watch him remove his bionic. Laying his arm on a metal shelf, he pressed a few buttons which answered with screwdriver sounds. Teeth clenched; he suppressed a moan of pain as his shoulder was freed from the casquet. Massaging the lump of flesh, he returned to the living room, where he collapsed himself. As Camille was curled up and not about to move, he placed the soda next to her.

“I am not going to yell at you or anything. You can relax, Camille.” He said before taking a long sip out of his beer. “I don’t have many visits. You will have to do with Kiel’s favourite.”

A smile moved on his face, the same any student would have at the end of a tedious day of work. As the trainee was still glancing at the trapped liquid, he pointed it again with his chin. Camille extended her arm and brought the sugar-filled canister to her. She tried to open it, but her fingers kept sleeping on the lid. With a smirk painted over the face, Lesskov reached to help her out. She stammered thanks out, focusing on the strawberry liquid to hide her equally coloured cheeks.

The sweet smell of fruit and sugar made her body thrill. She had not drunk anything like that since leaving Earth and couldn’t hide her excitement. She brought the can to her lips—fuzzy water awoke her mouth in a go, washing away the pressure stuck in there. Camille moved back her hairs behind her ears, daring a first glance at the man. The dark-haired girl couldn’t remember how she used to speak with him. If Lesskov was always a mountain, the slopes Camille used to climb were now swept by skin-cutting winds. Every time she stopped in tracks, her gaze would fall on a picture abandoned in the snow. Repeating her previous father teaching, the girl brought back a fantasy of composure to herself. She focused on Lesskov’s bare shoulder as the gruesome display made her stay on Earth. The same purple skin she had seen the first time was present, surrounding electronic parts merged with the meat. If she were not hungry before, she would have thrown up anything after watching that.

“Is my missing arm so impressive? You used to be more talkative during our last meeting.”

The girl faced the cold gaze, swallowing back the panic rising in her.

“Is it painful?” She asked to keep the discussion going. “Why not grow it back?”

“We couldn’t grow back limbs during the war. Now, I’m used to my bionic. I would miss it.” He laughed before abandoning his bottle. “What is it, Dead?”

Asking for cuddles, the blue lizard jumped on his father’s laps. As the man started to pat the little M.E.A.’s head, Dead’s eyes moved back on her. His tiny teeth were open in a giant smile—spine shilling for anyone, terrifying for the girl. Only Lesskov could find him cute. Despite its creepy appearance. Camille was curious about the not so little beast.

“How can he talk?” asked the girl. “He doesn’t sound like an A.I. at all.”

“That’s because I am not one of those idiots A.I.” Dead started with a high-pitched laugh. “I am a highly complex elder grade support matric. Not some useless fake intelligence. I specialise in the analysis of patterns for reproduction and amelioration purpose. I’m the best in my domain.”

“Wait! Slowly! You are elder tech!”

Camille’s voice rose to her higher octave, and when Dead answered with an exaggerated nod, her curiosity took over. Moving closer, she grabbed him from Lesskov’s knees. Dead was lighter than she had thought, and she could watch him from every angle with ease.

The elders, like many called them, were the ancestor of the five prominent. The ancient race had crossed the stars aeons before Camille birth, leaving behind marvellous treasures. The god-like species had built the nal’tear guiding the rifting ships and had paved the way to create the first lisp engine. Today’s technology was but a rip-off created from the ashes of their past glory. Camille doubted Dead’s ability to sound coherent, but an elder grade A.I. could easily match his ability. With stars burning in her eyes, she started to cover him with a tsunami of questions. The poor lizard was not prepared and tried to reach for his father’s help.

“Don’t rush him. He is not bright for an elder tech.”

“But who created him? Is it Blue? Dead, I need an answer!”

“I don’t know.” He grumbled. “Do you remember the day you were born?”

“Of course not. But we are not the same at all.”

“Because I’m of steel? Because I’m artificial? To me, meat people are as much synthetic as I am. You are still little-sister, though.”

Camille tilted her head and asked Lesskov for clarification.

“Blue try to use it to make her M.E.A faster. After a while, we found out Dead was born. The screw-head developed a personality based on Blue’s fighting style and anything he could hear. Don’t talk with him too much. You will have a headache before the end of the day.”

“Don’t say that to new little sister! She will be afraid like older little sister at the beginning.”

“Older little sister?” the teen repeated. “You mean Kiel?”

“Yes! Red eyes is good at catch. You need to train more! She will crush you when we play together.”

Camille stared down the M.E.A. Remembering the chase sent nausea up her throat. She had almost died that time. And if little Dead was cute enough to be held, thinking about his bigger version made every hair of her body lift. The girl understood she couldn’t trust the M.E.A., but one last question burned like a flare in her mind. Clenching her fist on the small beast, she dared to ask it.

“Dead, why do you call me little sister?”

Dead tilted his head, his camera eyes narrowing on her chest. Camille’s hand moved to the shard hanging there, the little beast’s claws extended to snatch it from her. The lizard winded himself around it, bringing back his lost fragment home. Indeed, the simple-minded Dead liked the necklace too and the one who wore it by extension.

“Mom’s shard.” He pointed out with a teeth-filled smile. “She only gave one to dad, then made a black one for older little sister. Everyone in family have one—you have one—you are family.”

Dead’s metallic words pierced her chest, diffusing a sweet heat within her. Pressing her lips together, she brought the lizard against her. Dead was not used to hug and stopped moving, afraid of wounding the girl. Camille didn’t mind it, only wanting to keep the vibrant feeling alive. She turned a radiant smile to the instructor, only to meet two frigid pools in a rocky face.

“Don’t listen to his nonsense. He doesn’t even know what he says.”

Lesskov harsh words were like a bucket of water cast over her. Her smile faded, taken over by the shadows of the instructor. She watched him left his seat; the grey-haired man rather displeased by his metallic son’s babble. She saw the man stop next to a picture, Blue standing in front of Dead.

“Major, how did you meet Blue?”

“How did I meet Kaly?” He thought out loud. ”Not a short story, but I can sum up our introduction as damn lucky. We come from the same planet, Earth. We were both soldiers there during the vlin’ns invasion. The first time I saw her was here, on Erin IV. I was living my last hours; vlin’ns had almost taken over the planet. I was stationed in a fortified city, and they came to butcher everyone. Today, they call this the battle of the ring, but the slaughter would fit it just right.

“You survived. You won the battle.”

“Instructor Drayn would be more suited to explain the bullshit behind it.” He spoke pain in his voice “All I remember was the bodies of my comrades and the angel who descended to save us all.”

His hand grabbed Blue’s portrait. A faint smile, like a breath of fresh air, lighted up his lines. Camille could see love in the way he looked at the woman. The teenager’s grasp on Dead tightened, carving for someone to gaze at her that way.

“All hope had died.” He continued with a dark voice. “The vlin’ns commander was leading the offensive. We were not dangerous enough to be a threat. I remember him walking down the breach, splitting soldiers like twigs. Almost all my men had died when she appeared behind him. She had pierced their rearguard to find her prey. I can still see his M.E.A fell as she cut his limbs off, alone among the corpses of my brothers and sisters.”

His gaze moved to the girl.

“If I am alive, it’s because of her.”

“Me too,” she muttered in a breath.

“What?”

“I said, she saved everyone. She ended the war after all.”

Lesskov disagreed with the girl. He waved his head as his memory made way to the last battle of the war.

“You should review your history lesson, Camille. Nor the federation nor the vlin’ns ended the war. It was one man’s folly, prince Adrin.”

“Are you talking about the child of peace?”

The noble girl had heard it long ago. As the war turned to a stalemate, the favourite general of the emperor, his grandson, betrayed his nation. Not for glory or some hidden plot, only because he wanted an end to the war. She always believed it was some fantasy created after the war. After learning a bit about strategy and the prince feat, the girl doubted her judgement. They had learned about Erin’s final battle, and everything her instructor had told about it was insulting to the prince military genius. Most were speculation, but many whispered about the soon birth of the prince’s child. Camille wished it was all lies. The one bearing his empire defeat might have suffered all his life for this crime.

Dead twitched in her arms as the blue lizard had enough of boring talk.

“Dad! Can I play with Cmill?” he spoke fast as always. “I want to play dodge!”

Dead intervention cut short the conversation. The steel doll was trying to escape the girl’s grasp. His tiny eyes turned toward the back of the warehouse. Camille tried to identify the game he was referring to, hoping not to find another big Dead inside. On the wall opposing the entrance, a staircase was splitting into two. One was going up, the other down under the grey concrete. If the girl had missed it during her first tour, she bit her lips to control the curiosity rising. What others secret could be hidden there?

On the other side, Lesskov was unsure of allowing the blue lizard to play with the girl. It was late already, and the girl had P.E as her first classes tomorrow. The two young turned pleading eyes to him. Swearing under his breath, he nodded. Dead jumped out of Camille’s embrace, rushing toward the descending staircase. The girl rolled her eyes, feeling more suited to be the older sister. Passing next to Lesskov, she saw him open a holo-screen. Some newspaper with a catchy headline.

“Military trainees go missing.” The girl read in her mind.

She didn’t put any thinking on the news and continued her way to the stairs. Dead had already jumped down, and she had to speed up to catch up with the steel lizard. To the girl surprise, he didn’t stop on the first floor. The guardian’s hideout was far larger than she had first thought, and the dimly lighted stair kept curled downward even when they stopped. Dead had brought the girl to a vast training room. The floor was covered with tatami, much like Kiel’s dojo. In fact, she could tell the vlin’ns inspired herself from this place. Unlike its surface twin, the place’s walls were covered with a range of unique weapons. Not a single gun in view; this place was home to train one martial skill. On the other side, ten M.E.S. had been aligned, each of a guardian’s endemic colour.

Dead jumped on Blue’s M.E.S., which opened with a clicking noise. The exoskeleton was relatively standard at first glance. The girl would soon realise it was not. It moved on the side to leave free access to the storage hidden behind where Blue’s piloting suits had been stored. The lizard then turned to the girl, asking her to come.

“You want me to use that?” she asked, touching the M.E.S. “Does it not belong to Blue?”

“Who cares! Mother doesn’t use them anymore. Take a suit. You need one to pilot.”

“I know! I have piloted an M.E.S. before.” She spoke before thinking back to her training session. “What game are we going to play?”

“Not dangerous at all! Mother often played it to train. It will help you learn! Good for you!”

“Realy?” she asked, intrigued. “I hope you are not lying.”

The girl walked to the storage and studied the suits with an immature grin. Blue had stored quite a few during her years as a soldier. Camille took a delighting pleasure to go across them. The girl had always loved clothing, and if military’s training suits lacked any zest, Blue’s had taken the time to make each one unique. The teenager grabbed a light grey one, a miniature depiction of Dead scribbled over the right of her breast. The outfit had short sleeves reaching to her elbow. It was completed with leather boots where an aluminium connection ring had been mounted and long gloves.

When one piloted an exoskeleton, they had to wear the standard suit. Thigh and resilient, the piloting gears allowed to move more quickly in the armour and connected with it. Blue’s outfits had nothing in common with the one she had been using for training. Of course, the design was older, and the modern one had a more exciting design. Camille had chosen that one for more than one reason. She liked its simplicity as the suit was not filled with electronics like her older sisters. Even that said, it was covered with more sensor and connexion than her training one. Those last were used to ease the piloting of the M.E.S.

The girl abandoned her cloth on the floor and changed into her mentor’s war uniform. Every M.E.S. suit could adapt to people height, preventing the clothing from floating. Camille’s skin was compressed as all the servos compressed to adjust to her body. A gasp of wonder left her mouth; the guardian’s suit had nothing in common with her training one. The unique fabric was resistant and soft as cotton to the point that she could barely feel it on her skin. There was no difference from being naked.

Her new outfit complete, she turned sparkling eyes to the M.E.S. The standard armours of the federation infantry had no predetermined size and were more than often adapted to the user. Still young, Camille was a bit too small to fit in Blue’s M.E.S perfectly. The exoskeleton was around 1m70 tall, a bit higher than his owner. The armour covering it had been reduced at its minimal to allow more speed and agility. It was almost mandatory for M.E.A pilots to drop the exciding weight, and only juggernauts were known to keep them. Blue Dead was not that kind of pilot. The woman and her armour had been the foundation to an entire class of pilot, skirmishers. Camille couldn’t wait and, after squaring up with the relic, slipped into it. Her feet anchored in the M.E.S boots, and the war machine started to close on the girl. As each part locked together, she felt the connexion join with her suit. Her heart was racing faster than a nef, already thinking of the moment she would tell it to her friend. Ender would go crazy as the boy loved the guardian’s story after all. Her new armour fully close, she grabbed the helmet and popped it on. For a moment, she could only hear the movement of steel and her uneven breathing. Shortly after, the suit had finished its first adjustment and lighted up. The outside reappeared with a soft overlay. Lines started to cross the screen, one written in red.

“Unknown user? Profile creation? What is the meaning, Dead?”

“I use specific files for any users. Mother’s settings would not work with you.”

Camille flinched as the M.E.A’s voice came over the radio. Dead’s didn’t sound like himself at all. The pesky bug was gone, replaced by a young adult voice. This time, Camille allowed him to think of himself as the big brother.

- Don’t move. I need to calibrate.

Her arms moved on her own; Camille jerked her head back.

“I told you not to move!”

“You could have told me!” She complained back.

Stiff as a nog’lon, she left the A.I. to his work. Fully focused, Dead made the girl dance around the room. Bent in every way possible, he pushed her to the limit of her flexibility—only to start again after a few adjustments. The screw-head was not joking around and made the girl execute a full split. Camille sent prayers to her old dance teacher, who had wasted her time tutoring her. Another useless teaching she had discovered usage in the dusty base. Dead took five minutes to complete his task. If she found the time long, she understood why at the end. Free to move again, she took her first step with wide eyes and a yelp of wonder. Dead had not done a remarkable job at adapting the steel overhaul to her. It was perfection. She could move without efforts, and everyday moves like walking or jumping felt natural. Any professionally maintained exoskeleton would come close to that, but it was day and light with stock gears. Camille started to try the armour, boxing in the air as she learned and did some gymnastics. In her training gear, she had trouble standing up. Blue’s M.E.S allowed her to do a full cartwheel without even trying.

“It’s amazing!”

“That’s nothing new little sister.” Dead laughed out loud. “Let’s play a game now!”

That sounded more like the crazy M.E.A already. Dead didn’t wait for her answer and ran a list in her field of view. Each line symbolised a custom scenario created by the guardians during their training. Dead chose the easiest one, and five holograms of war dogs appeared. The teenager tried to rub her eyebrow, reluctant to fight the monsters. They were pale copies of their original, far better than the drool-covered monster they had met in the pit. Still, she had to suppress shivers when she looked at their enormous maw.

“Are you familiar with the puppies?”

“Puppies?” She yelped. “Those are monsters!”

“Good. You must kill them all without getting touched. Easy!”

“With my bare fist?”

The armour twisted itself toward the wall, and all the weapons highlighted at the same time. Camille could choose anything among the guardians’ relic arsenal—the luck of a lifetime.

“What kind of weapon Blue used?”

The number of possibilities was cut in half, again when Dead removed the unwieldable one. Only remained a handful of swords that Blue once carried on the battlefield. Once more, Camille took the time to study every possibility. She had never used those kinds of weapon before, her knowledge limited to Gintela first and third arcana. She was about to try a sword when a purple glow caught her gleaming eyes. The blade was weird. Of medium size, the steel was hidden under a satin-dark sheet. The one behind the artwork had taken the time to embroider it. A single thread swirled around the scabbard, writing long-forgotten runes over it. The handle was of pure white oak and covered in similar runes, this time made of gemstone carved and crimped by the most talented goldsmith. Over it, a layer of dark ropes had been woven around to ease the handling. The girl had never crossed the writing and, by the look, could tell it dated.

She kept staring at the blade, drifting delicately toward it. Before she could realise, her hand had grabbed the handle. The girl’s eyes lighted in a sky-deep blue, the same Kiel had made her notice. The purple glow grew larger inside her palm as eerie sparks covered the gauntlet. They vanished in thin air, leaving behind but a wave of glittery dust.

Camille drew the sword out of its sarcophagus. The steel emerged with a low rattle, followed by a whirring. Like its exterior, the blade had nothing ordinary. Of steel, it was not composed but inky sand moving around the guard. As she unleashed the relic, the blade grew thick and unusable before shrinking to a leaf-thin size. One edge, round guard—Camille had seen similar steel before. Katana they were called them on her homeworld.

Waving the oriental blade around, she was amazed by his weight. The girl tried to do some slashed she had seen before in movie and videogame. She swiftly understood waving a sword around was not that easy. She liked the sensation and could already imagine herself as a blade master. Lifting the blade in front of her, she prepared to defend herself. Dead took it as a go and, not without an impatient laugh, launched the blue wolves on her. The elder’s A.I. knew what was about to happen.

The five holographic wolves started to circle around the girl. The scene had become familiar for Camille, who had fought alone against them multiple times. As always, one dashed forward. She stepped out of the way, throwing her blade downside—a miss. The beast was already behind, ready to leap again. She couldn’t react in time, and Dead had to intervene. Ducking under the beast, she saw her arm move. With a perfect half-circle, the blade split the hologram in two.

“Hey! Stop making me move!”

“What? I saved your life, new little sister! A rock is more agile than you. How are you supposed to fight the puppies if you don’t move faster.”

Camille gradually breathed through her lips. Quarrelling with her partner was not going to help her. If no one had ever explained to her the complexity of M.E.S’s movement, it was her luck to find out. Dead had stored in his memory every step Blue had ever made. She could learn from the best and take a unique advantage to reach her goal—beat the month of Hell among the thousand future soldiers.

“Okay, Dead. You can help me, but if you do, start over the exercise. I want to do it alone.”

The A.I remained silent, and the fifth wolves returned to life. Again the girl waited for the beast to attack, trying to react in time. The leader launched his assault, teeth toward her throat. Copying Dead’s, she kneeled and threw a horizontal cut. The blade met two legs; the wolf crashed behind her. She jumped to her feet with a smug smile, followed by a hight pitched scream when the second wolf pounced on her. Opening back her eyes, she realised Dead had saved her again.

“Pathetic!”

“I killed one!”

“And died right after. Don’t stop moving, or you are easy prey. Vlin’ns idiot always stood around like trees that why they lose their limbs.”

The girl nodded, and the training session started over. Time flew differently in the training room, and soon the girl was sweaty, her lungs hurting. She kept going, fighting packs after others. Each time she tried a different strategy, copying Dead’s movement and trying her how often killing herself In the process. It took her an hour before triumphing of the fives beasts without significant error. A stroke of luck, she knew, a win nonetheless. Removing her helmet, she grabbed the tiny lizard and singed her joy.

“Have you seen that!”

“ A sword? You didn’t choose the easiest weapon.”

Camille looked over her shoulder to see Lesskov sitting on the staircase. Her body pivoted his way, straight as her blade. She hid that last behind her while twitching on her feet. She had no idea for how long he had been watching.

“Sorry. I used Blue’s gear.”

The instructor waved her apologies away. He stared at her face while standing up. Camille’s performance could be described as terrible. Her guard was full of holes, and she struggled with basic movement. Far from surprise, he was even impressed. For a beginner, she displayed a lot of quality necessary for any good pilot. She reacted quickly and had a thing for improvisation. With a solid technical backpack, she would shine as a skirmisher. As always, Lesskov didn’t vocalise his compliment. The girl had to keep her head on her shoulders.

“Major, what kind of weapon do you use? An Axe?”

“No! I hate those. When I was on the frontline, my backup was a spear. You should keep with the sword, though. It suits you well.” He said before adding with a grin. “Geared like this, you remind me of Blue.”

The girl cheekbones rose as she contained the fuzzy feeling going up her chest. Lesskov didn’t notice as his gaze was locked on her blade. His thick eyebrow moved into two neat arcs. His hand moved to take the sword out of her hand, Camille took a step back.

“Give me the sword.”

The girl reluctantly handed it over. The night-sky blade complained and returned to a metal slab size. Its sharpness dissolved, a blunt triangular shape replaced it. Camille’s lips pinched when she witnessed the fading of the murderous beauty. She wanted her sword back.

“It like you?” questioned the instructor, his eyes burning with wonder. “I can’t believe it.”

He threw the sword to Camille, who caught it with the tips of her finger. Her blade has already returned to her usable form, purring in her hand. The girl had never seen Lesskov’s amazed face. One more thing she would not forget to tell the others. His deep laugh was like a bell, putting anyone in confidence. With his bare hand, he touched the blade. Pressing the sharpness slightly with his thumb, he tested out the limit of his student control. Camille had no idea what was going on and watched him do, worried for his last hand.

“Can you stop?” strangled the girl. “You could hurt yourself!”

“No, it can’t.” He answered right away, a stare to his undamaged finger. “You don’t want to hurt me.”

He turned to a wall and grabbed another sword. Taking it out of the scabbard, he unveils a similar blade. His was longer, double-edged, and burst with a ravenous aura. The steel was out for blood.

“This one belongs to pink. Claimed in battles, of course. Do you understand what those are?”

“Swords?”

“Not just that, Camille. We call them lisp blade, steel of the elder, and the most trustworthy weapons one can hold in the galaxy. The one you wielded today is named Askorat. I have never seen anyone unsheathe it before. Even Blue, who had her way with them, get repulsed by her.”

“It’s not normal to use it?”

“Lisp blades are not normal in any way.” He said, hanging back the second.”Somewhat like Dead, they have a soul. They can refuse people they dislike or become an extension of the will of those worthy enough. Religious people say only the one holding an elder soul can use their blade. There is some truth in it.” His hand rested on the wall; he looked into her eyes. “You need to share dreams, sentiments and personality with whoever forged them. The ultimate test is to try to hurt oneself. If the blade refuses, you are its master.”

Camille lifted the blade; The paper-thin layer of steel fell on her hand. Lesskov strangled shout echoed in the room, startling the girl. He crossed the two meters between them in an instant and threw the blade away. He didn’t even have to speak, Dead opened the M.E.S, and he extracted her without effort. Kneeling, his rough hand closed on her tiny arm. Preventing her from moving as he made sure she was okay. She was intact; the glove wasn’t so lucky.

“What is wrong with you!?”

“But you said—”

“I didn’t say to do it!”

Camille winced. She had been carried away by the situation. Even if she was untouched, looking at the damaged M.E.S crushed her heart. She had managed to damage a relic that had survived wars, and it was her first time using it. She could already see Lesskov throw her by the door.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to damage Blue’s M.E.S.”

“Who cares about that. Those things cut through armouring like butter. If the blade had not connected with you, your hand would be rolling on the floor. I can’t fix humans with a blowtorch.”

Closing his admonition, he made small circles with his shoulder. The message was clear, and Camille answered it with some furious nod. She also would do anything to avoid that.

“You can come and train with Dead as much as you want, but don’t use that blade again. Not until you know how to handle a sword properly.”

“But, swordsmanship is not even in our program.” She complained. “We only start learning it after the end of the month!”

“Then ask Kiel for some private tuition. She will not refuse that. She loves teaching and takes even more fun with a sword in hand.” He explained with a shining glow. “She is also the best swordsman I know, if not for her mother.”

Camille’s memory flashed with Verin’s face. He had the identical figure when he talked about his work or his daughters—never she would see that again.

“You sound so proud.” She spoke, arms against her chest. “She is like your daughter.”

“Definitely. I told you Blue saved me, but I think Kiel saved us both. My day would be grim without her.”He stopped to watch his watch. “It’s running late. You should go back to your dorm.”

The girl sheeted her sword before turning her blue eyes to the man. The old instructor was not at the end of his troubles.

“Can I keep the blade?”

“The blade?” Lesskov choked. “Camille, you do realise it’s a relic?”

“But no one uses it! And it chose me as its master! Look! I didn’t go wounded!” She chewed her words while showing her hand. “Please!”

“Camille, even if I wanted, which is not the case. Giving a thirteen years old girl a lisp blade would be abysmally stupid. If you become a full-fledged M.E.A pilot, I might consider it.”

“Realy? Swear it then!” She jumped with a smug smile.

Lesskov, who already regretted his word, clenched his teeth. He had forgotten the young girl was sharper than she looked. He pointed her necklace, asking her to pass it. Leeskov took the shard in his palm, pressing the jagged part against it. He threw it back at her, unmoved by the pain.

“Prove me you have the guts for.”

The girl followed her mentor’s action, her face twitching as her skin was ripped off. She tried to keep the same still face as Lesskov, with less success. She extended her hand toward him.

“On blood and kin.” He swore, taking the girl by the wrist.

“On blood and kin.”

“Good. Now get back to your dorm and not a single word about this place. It would be a shame if someone were to check on the camera tomorrow.”

Camille stared at the side. She was now at her instructor’s mercy as if it was not the case before. The teenager followed him upstairs after dressing back in her uniform. Tired as ever, she felt refreshed after her multiple conversations with the man. She walked assured toward the exit, already imagining her next visit. As her hand touched the door, she took a glance behind. Lesskov was waiting near the bar, his gaze on the girl’s back. Their eyes crossed; Camille’s fists clenched. Lips curled together, she took a long breath to wash away the voices in her head. Lesskov kept still, fighting a duel with the girl’s adamant eyes. The blue melted by shadow pierced him to his core, and only his hardened heart kept him from moving. All his left side itched, pushing him to take a gaze at a picture he should have hidden.

“Major.” She started with a shaky voice. “Since the pit, I have a question. During my birthday party, you told me I would never know the military life. Was it irony?”

“As I told you before, I don’t play games. I was stating the truth.” His hand moved on the counter. “You saw me during the ceremony when I stopped. It never happened before, not during my angry-instructor act. I have nothing to do with your mobilisation if it is your ques—”

“No. Even if it were the case, I would probably thank you. What I want to make sure, define me in some primal way. Noble can’t be enlisted. You told it during on T.V.”

A single nod, and the peaceful sea that was his gaze vanished.

“When I played with Dead for the first time, last Sil. You stated that sleeping over the hard reality was better than soft disillusion. Then if I told you, my father is not the real one, would you agree?”

“Most probably.”

Camille took a deep breath, swallowing the news.

“I bet it is the same for my mother. I don’t even feel close to her anymore.”

“A shame you are not as precise when it comes to shooting.”

She took the jest like a warning, the last defence of the man who couldn’t say a thing. He was waiting for her next move, but the girl had to take one final step—greater than any she had ever crossed.

“Major, Are you— Am I—” The word strangled in her throats, and she stared at him for help.

“Am I what?”

She shook her head as tears pearled in the corner of her eyes. She hated herself for being so weak, for not holding the strength to ask a single question.

“I’m sorry Major. Good night.”

Lesskov’s face wrinkled as he watched the girl flee the room. Through the silence, he heard the shattering scream of his father’s soul. As the door closed in her sordid and loud noise, all strength left him at once. As he tried to prevent his fall, Blue’s picture was sent flying. The glace exploded on the floor, covering his boots with a wave of splinters.

“Why?” he asked the girl. “Why not just try? All you had to do is ask!”

Dead jumped next to his father, nuzzling his tiny head against his hand.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I will be Dead.” He assured with his broken voice. “Go and watch over her. Made sure she reaches her barrack safely. You have carte blanche if anything happens.”

Dead nodded, rushing away behind the girl. Leaning over the floor, Lesskov reached for the picture. His empty gaze loomed over Blue’s face, a faint smile emerged from his ruined face.

“Kaly, once again, I’m lost. I need you by my side. I need you to free me of those shackles.”

His eyes moved to his palm. Under the clotting wound, a parallel scar was visible. Grinding his teeth, he ran his nails on the old injury until it’s started bleeding.

“Blood and kin.” He spat, hatred in his voice. “I was so close, so close to having her back.”