The plush carpet sunk beneath her feet as Ellen left the training room and headed for her living quarters to freshen up, a large smile plastered on her face.

For the past two weeks, they had been working on close combat, the wooden rods leaving angry red lashes on her skin. But this didn't phase her, nor did she mind. They served as a reminder to never be brash, but to be humble. They also showed that every time she had been beat, she would get up and the dance would start over. The lashes and bruises marks of pride; marks of self-determination.

But that all changed today.

She had managed to outmanoeuvre Hans in their final skirmish of the day, forcing him onto his knees after a well-played parry before the wooden pole struck down onto this back. She thought he would have been upset; rather, he looked up at her grinning and clapping his hands.

"Perfect. I need to pitch you up against Claudia next."

And then he gave her a high-five – his hand covered in wraps and hers, in hardened callouses - and let her go for the rest of the afternoon.

Now she found herself wandering the corridors on automatic pilot, humming to herself, in the best mood she had been in for a long while. She replayed the moment in her head, again and again, hoping that everything she learnt would sink inside her and that she would be able to perform if she ever had to. It is one thing to be able to train well, but another if you actually had to use those skills.

She approached the door of her room, opening it and almost doubling back on her steps. Someone – or something ­– had been in here.

Three packages sat on her bed, wrapped neatly in brown paper and string.

Her mind automatically trailed to the worst case scenario - What if they were malicious? What if it was a trap? Could the same person that injured the mortal man in the park have left these for her?

Her eyes scanned over the wrapping, her attention catching on a white slip of paper that was tucked beneath one of the parcels. There were two sentences - two short sentences - written in fancy yet legible cursive: It's time you had your own. These are yours.

Her head pounded, her breath light and rapid.

Barely being able to contain the excitement, she sat down on the edge of her bed and held the first of the packages in her arm. It was the smallest one and the lightest, and she had a fair idea of what was inside it. Ellen tore off the string and paper, exposing a black cover made of silk and the gold cord. The smile now re-igniting her face, she fumbled with the cord and drew out what was inside, letting it sit in her lap. Her eyes marvelled at the detail; the detail that she only saw on paper during the design phase. It was as if she was a child in a candy store.

The dagger that they had designed whilst cramming their heads together with Elder Smith stared up at her, the blade and hilt both gleaming. Whilst she nearly opted to go for a similar swirl design, she instead chose one that had more Celtic qualities to it, the design running from the tip of the hilt to halfway along the blade. It really was an epitome to brilliant workmanship.

She put this on the bed behind her, taking care not to run any part of her body along the foreboding blade. She then took the second largest parcel, this one being a bit more difficult to lift with one hand, removed the wrappings and the case, and admired the katana that she had opted for. Again, the work that had gone into it was nothing short of breathtaking and she sat admiring it. That was, until she remembered that there was also a third package that awaited her.

The unopened package was the largest and also the widest although it wasn't very heavy. She stood onto her feet, and leaned down over the bed. Her hands shook as she slowly peeled back the paper; in her mind, guessing what it could be.

It couldn't be a crossbow because it was too long and too light.

It couldn't be another sword because again, it was too light.

It didn't take long to establish what the object was. The more she unwrapped it, the more of its componentry became exposed.

The strong yet flexible arc.

The string that ran from one side of the arc to the other.

It was a bow with arrows.

She ran her fingers along the carvings that decorated the wooden arc, each one of them clean and smooth. The wood itself was handsome and dark. She held it closer to her eyes, examining something that was carved on the inside. It was the numbers that made up this year. Ellen spied another note which was tied to the bottom of the bow. As she read it, the year stamp made sense.

As a birth gift. My gift to you.

Putting the bow down with the rest of her newly acquired weaponry, Ellen couldn't help but jump and throw her hands in the air, happiness pumping through her veins like an adrenaline junky about to jump from a great height. She had to thank Hans for the gift and show her appreciation! Realising that Hans would probably still be in his room, she surged across her bedroom and into the hallway. The moment she laid her foot outside of the doorway, she felt a strong pair of hands grip her by the forearms.

"Ellen!" a frightened, woman's voice hissed at her. Ellen looked at the woman who was covered in a dark travellers cloak, her face and eyes hidden by a large hood of the same shade.

"Yes?" Ellen asked, trying to fight against the grip the woman had on her hands. If she didn't let go sometime soon, she was certain the blood flow would be cut. She gave a last attempt, and then let herself go still, giving in.

"I've come to warn you," the woman hissed again, frantically. She loosened her grip, but still clenched onto Ellen's arms so she couldn't escape.

Ellen squinted at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She was speaking in riddles; riddles that she didn't understand.

"Would you like to come inside?" Ellen hoped that if they were in a private space, the woman would be comfortable to divulge more information.

The woman glanced around – or so Ellen thought, as her hood moved side to side – and pushed Ellen into her own bedroom before snapping the door shut behind them.

"You must be careful Ellen!" her tone was more relaxed but still on edge. The two women stood in the middle of the bedroom facing each other, a contrast between innocence, and fear and secrecy. One was unmasked and exposed – her identity bare for all to see – and the other, hidden behind coverings and identify skewed.

Was it for the fear of safety?

Ellen stared at her, unsure whether to trust this newcomer. "Who are you?"

The woman shook her head and didn't even make the slightest move towards lowering her hood. "I can't tell you because they will find me. They will kill me. They will kill you."

"Wait. You're not making any sense. Who will kill you and I?" Alarm bells were starting to ring in the back of her head, and her stomach did a flip. She didn't dare to think she was lying, the recent past events dictated otherwise. The threat was real and it was very real. The quicker she could alert Hans and Claudia, the quicker they could be on greater alert and make preparations.

The woman shook her head. It appeared that she wasn't willing to divulge any names. Ellen grew impatient with the woman, crossing her arms and staring at her. Why warn someone if you aren't going to give evidence that you can prepare on? Especially when lives were at risk.

"Is it Dvorak? He is on trial," Ellen told her flatly. Maybe if she kept prodding – mentioning different names – then she can divulge more information.

"No, no Ellen! But you don't know!" she gasped, holding a covered hand up to her face.

"What don't I know?"

"Why, Ellen," her voice quietening back down to a whisper. "Dvorak is innocent!"

Ellen shifted form one foot to the other, becoming uncomfortable. She didn't know what was right or what to believe these days. The truth had become so very twisted that it was difficult to establish what the truth was. "Then who is it?"

The woman moved away from Ellen by a single step. She then let her hands fall to her side, becoming nothing more than just a tall figure with cloth hanging off her frame. Her voice was pleading now. "He has someone working on the inside; someone that is close to you. They are watching your every move." She rushed towards Ellen, grabbed her by the shoulders and then disappeared outside of the room.

By the time Ellen had reached the doorway, the woman had already gone – out of sight.

Sighing from frustration, Ellen made her way through the labyrinth of hallways until she reached the doors of the boardroom and hammered on the wooden panels. There was no reply; she banged again out of desperation.

"Hans, please be there," she pleaded to herself. "Please, I need you."

There was a moment and the heavy door quickly cracked open. Claudia stuck her head out of the gap, and looked down at Ellen through her glasses. "Is this urgent?" she asked, politely but urgently. Her eyes drilled into Ellen.

"Someone visited me. I don't know who it was but they said Dvorak is innocent!"

Claudia pushed on the door, so it was now fully open. Two of the chairs along the table were filled with a third pushed away. Hans and Dvorak sat side by side, whilst Claudia sat opposite them.

"Yes, we know," Hans replied, looking up at her. And then she felt all three pairs of eyes train onto her, Dvorak appearing as the most ragged of the trio. His cheeks were fallen; his eyes had deep, dark patches, and his skin was a sickly yellow shade.

"Wh-what?" Ellen stammered, taking an unconscious step backwards. "But, the trial..."

"The trial concluded this morning after the Seek, analysing the results and several discussions with Master Dvorak himself. He's innocent and has been reinstated to his Master duties."

Dvorak stared from Hans to Claudia, Hans and Claudia again. "This girl can be trusted with such private information?"

Hans held up a palm to quiet Dvorak. "She can be. She's been training with both myself and Claudia and never ceases to amaze us." He gained eye contact with Ellen and she sensed him brimming on the inside but he didn't let his face portray this apart from the slightest upturn at the corners of his lips.

"Ellen," he continued. "I'd like to formally introduce you to Master Dvorak. He knows of our predicament and has most ceremoniously and graciously agreed to give you training in a very specific – a very niche – ability. He will also be working alongside us to protect you and to keep an eye out on things."

Ellen regained her composure, leaning on the back of one of the armchairs.

"And what ability would that be?"

Dvorak cleared his throat, and tapped his fingers on the highly-polished wooden surface. "I specialise in darkness, the underworld. I'm going to attempt to teach you how to detect Necromancers, bury yourself into their minds, control them, torture them and most important," he smiled slyly at Ellen. "How to get them to do your bidding. Essentially, everything that we stand against. The best defence is a strong offense."

And then he started laughing.