Cresana's mind raced as she followed Ivan through the Little Palace halls. She took passive note of the route they wove through the Palace, slowly building a mental map of the interior and merging it with what she had been able to ascertain from her balcony view. Although it was broad daylight, the Palace was eerily silent. Cresana noted that there were no guards, Grisha, or servants milling around as she would have expected. It seemed that it was just her and the Heartrender Ivan. Their footsteps echoed ominously off the lavishly ornate wood carved walls and marble floors.

Ivan didn't say a word to her, nor did he look back to her. He walked purposefully and without hesitation. He obviously knew his way around, and he seemed driven by urgency. Cresana wondered who the 'she' was that was waiting for her at the other end of this summons.

Much to her surprise, Cresana found herself following Ivan outside of the Little Palace doors and into the grounds. They had exited the building on the southwest corner, the exact opposite end from where Cresana's chambers were. She found that the forest was much closer on this side of the Palace. The brush was wild and overgrown, and there was a threatening edge to the shadows cast by the tall trees. Ivan continued to stride confidently into the forest, following a slender trail not much wider than a deer path. Cresana's feet – bare without her usual fighting slippers – felt the slight chill of the ground beneath her. A sure sign of autumn approaching.

After a few minutes, Ivan stopped abruptly outside a small, unpretentious hut nestled in the woods. A faint curl of smoke wound its way up through the trees, betraying the presence of someone inside. Cresana could make out the faint smell of rabbit stew. Her stomach growled slightly. The heaps of biscuits and tea that the servants brought to her chambers daily were not her usual fare. She longed for the gamey meats and chewy rolls The Institute had served her daily for the past eight years.

Ivan jerked his head towards the hut's entrance, indicating Cresana was to enter it. Cresana didn't hesitate, glad to be rid of Ivan's surly presence. She stepped forward and into the darkened doorway of the hut.

A strong smell of incense assailed Cresana's nose. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior, her eyes came to rest on an older woman, sitting calmly in front of a low burning fire at the opposite end of the hut. There was something familiar about the woman's face, although Cresana was sure she had never met her before.

"Welcome, Cresana." The woman's voice was neither welcoming nor hostile. Cresana was surprised to hear her given name spoken aloud. She had not been referred to as 'Cresana' in many years. The Institute knew her as Militova or Blade. Even Evrity rarely used her name.

"Call me Baghra," the woman continued. Cresana didn't recognize the name, nor did she expect to.

"I understand my son has told you about your Trial." Cresana's mind worked quickly, trying to place the word 'son'. It took her only a moment to know where she recognized Baghra: General Kirigan had the same impenetrable gaze and air of supremacy. Like mother, like son.

Cresana nodded.

"Are you mute, girl?" Baghra demanded. For the third time that day, Cresana bit back the urge to bristle at the condescending tone others used to address her.

"No, I'm not." Cresana was glad to see that her cheeky reply angered the old woman.

"That's a shame," Baghra continued. She was quick to recover from the momentary irritation Cresana's reply had fueled. The sharpness with which she returned Cresana's sarcasm was amusing, and Cresana felt a spark of admiration for the woman.

"Why did you summon me?" As pleasant as it would have been to exchange quips, the restlessness in Cresana's mind wouldn't allow her to sink to baser pleasures.

"For training."

"Training? I've passed the Trial, there is no more training."

'The only training I require', Cresana thought, 'is a chance at battle'.

"Yes, you have completed your Blade training," Baghra agreed. She rose from her chair lithely and closed the distance between them. She drew herself up closely to Cresana's face. She was several inches shorter than Cresana. This close to her, Cresana could clearly see the striking resemblance to General Kirigan. Although advanced in age, Baghra's eyes were clear and penetrating and her movements suggested a strength and quickness of someone decades her junior. Cresana was sure that she wouldn't be a match for a fully trained Blade, but she also knew better than to underestimate this woman.

"But there's more to be done," she continued.

Cresana met her gaze, and she couldn't deny that the old woman had her full attention now. Baghra recognized Cresana's curiosity and continued.

"My son has a particular assignment for you, and it requires skills and preparation beyond what The Institute can provide. You'll continue your training with me, here at the Little Palace, and with Ivan." Baghra gestured vaguely to the door of her hut. Cresana knew that the Heartrender hadn't moved from where she'd left him; in fact, she had noticed the sound of his feet as he sidled closer to the hut a few moments after she had entered, no doubt straining to hear the conversation.

Cresana wasn't sure what to think of this. What more training could she possibly need? The Institute had been successfully preparing Blades for hundreds of years. None had ever passed the Trial in need of more tutelage. What particular assignment could demand more than what she already knew? Cresana knew the recipes to hundreds of potions and their antidotes; she could identify them by smell alone. She knew how to disarm any opponent, regardless of their size, strength, and weaponry. She could slit a man's throat in complete silence, and she could execute the most excruciating of tortures just as easily. She knew how to read battle formations of her opponents and predict their strategy with surgical precision. She could inflict a mortal wound and suture it up all within the same minute. Her skill with the Scythe Swords was unmatched. She could track foes and game across any type of terrain. There simply was no more training to be had.

"You do have much to learn, you know." It was as if Baghra had read her mind. "This assignment is no small feat. It's never been attempted before. And there's reason for that, Cresana. Blade training and Grisha power shouldn't mix. But, when has that ever stopped him?" This last comment was muttered quietly, and Cresana knew that was not directed to her as much as it was Baghra speaking to herself.

"I don't understand," Cresana said simply, recognizing that Baghra was sinking into a contemplative reverie. Cresana needed answers before she let this woman retract into her own thoughts.

"You will, in time." Baghra's reply was infuriating, and Cresana found she couldn't – or wouldn't – hold back her anger any longer. She withdrew one of the slender knives from the small slit in her trouser's seam and in the blink of an eye had the razor sharp tip pressed against the woman's neck, threateningly close to her jugular. Baghra froze instantly. Cresana's other hand flew to the woman's wrist, preventing her from calling on the Small Science with the intricate hand movements Grisha used to control their powers.

"No more games," Cresana growled. "Tell me what I need to know." The woman's eyes were wide, not with fear but with respect and something Cresana swore was excitement.

"Excellent!" Baghra clapped her hands together like a small child, her gaze meeting Cresana's and her mouth breaking into a wide smile. "You are terribly well trained, aren't you?" The woman's unbridled satisfaction was surprising, but Cresana wouldn't allow herself to be distracted. Gently, she applied more pressure to the woman's neck with her knife. A bright red trickle of blood bloomed from her neck. Although this wasn't what caught Baghra's attention; her eyes flitted almost imperceptibly to something over Cresana's shoulder.

Cresana let her well-trained reactions take over. Without removing her hand from Baghra's wrist, she flung the blade previously pressed to Baghra's neck behind her, connecting with Ivan's palm just as he'd been summoning his heart stopping powers to fell her once again. 'Not this time,' Cresana thought gladly. The thin blade sunk like a splinter into his hand; he grimaced in pain but didn't cry out, although this gave Cresana just enough time to land a powerful kick to the lower left side of his rib cage. She knew she didn't hit hard enough to break ribs, but she was glad to see that he sank to his knees, his mouth opening and closing futilely as the breath left his lungs. His uninjured hand flew to his throat as he struggled for air. Cresana used this time to press her advantage.

"Next one will make sure you never breath again, Heatrender. You" – Cresana turned her gaze back to Baghra, who was watching the scene with that same expression of excitement and admiration –"better start explaining."

Ivan's breath came back to him in a ragged and greedy gulp. As he coughed and sputtered, trying to regain control of his breathing, Baghra's eyes danced back and forth from Cresana's face to Ivan's and finally to Cresana's tight grip on her wrist. After a moment, Baghra nodded and motioned to the chair she had been sitting in when Cresana had entered the hut.

"Very well, Cresana. Sit down. I'll tell you what you want to know."