carried across 35

35 The Oldest Lie 

Sera 

The sun was sinking, bleeding a dull orange across the jagged peaks above the yard. I stayed in the dirt, waiting for the air to return to my lungs. I thought Yvara might come back to finish me off, but the yard stayed quiet. 

Heavy, rhythmic footsteps thudded against the packed earth behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The scent of woodsmoke and cold snow reached me first. Fenris was carrying two long poles, wrapped in thick, scarred leather. He tossed one toward me. It landed in the dirt with a heavy thud, and I barely caught it on the bounce. 

“What is this?” I asked, my voice cracking. 

“Training,” Fenris said. 

“Yvara trains me.” 

“Yvara isn’t here.” 

I stared at him, my grip tightening on the wood. I was exhausted. My ribs ached, my face was puffy from Taya’s crowd laughing at me, and Yvara’s words were still sitting in my gut like poison. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted a bed and a door I could lock. 

“I’m tired, Fenris.” 

“You’re always tired,” he said, his voice flat. “Defend yourself.” 

He swung. The pole whistled through the air. I brought my own up, the impact vibrating through my teeth as I blocked it. Fenris didn’t move like Yvara. He was controlled, his movements measured and heavy. The pole was padded, but it still stung like a whip when it connected with my hip. 

I had to keep turning, my boots scuffing the dirt as he circled me like a wolf. Every time I adjusted my feet, he was already moving to a new angle. 

“When I was ten, I had a friend,” Fenris said, his voice casual as he jabbed at my shoulder. “A servant boy. Same age. We used to sneak out and explore the tunnels. Pretend we were warriors.” 

I blocked another strike, my arms already burning. “Is there a point to this?” 

“One winter, we decided to run,” he continued, ignoring me. He swung low. I hopped back, the leather- wrapped wood grazing my shin. “We were going to find the South. Somewhere warm. Somewhere that wasn’t Ironmaw. Back then, a warm land was a myth to Nothern settlers.” 

I blocked a high strike, the pole catching my forearm. I hissed, my muscles screaming in protest. 1 

“We got three miles before my father’s men found us,” Fenris said. He didn’t sound sad; he sounded like he was reciting a trade agreement. “They dragged us back. Viktor was waiting in the Great Hall.” 

1/3 

I faltered, my timing slipping. The pole caught my hip, sending me stumbling. 

+25 Bonus 

“My father made me choose,” Fenris said, his pace never changing. “The boy or myself. One of us was going to be punished. He let me pick who.” 

I stopped mid-motion, my pole hanging slack at my side. I stared at him, my chest heaving. Fenris didn’t stop. He swung, and the padded wood caught my ribs. I gasped, the air leaving me in a sharp wheeze. 

“I chose myself,” he said. “I thought I was being noble. I stepped forward and told him to punish me instead of the boy. I thought sacrifice was the answer.” 

The yard was silent except for the sound of our breathing. 

“Viktor laughed,” Fenris said, his grey eyes fixed on mine. “Then he slit the boy’s throat while I watched. Then he beat me until I couldn’t stand. He left me on the floor next to the body.” 

I couldn’t move. The image of a seven-year-old Fenris on a cold floor made my stomach churn. 

“He told me one thing before he walked out,” Fenris said. He swung again, and I barely got my pole up in time. “He said mercy saves no one. He said choosing yourself and pretending it’s sacrifice is the oldest lie there is. He told me next time, just admit what I want and take it.” 

He stopped, lowering his pole. The tip rested in the dirt. 

“You keep pretending you don’t want things, Sera,” he said. “You pretend you don’t want to survive. You pretend you don’t want to win this challenge. You wrap yourself in victimhood so you don’t have to admit you’re fighting for your own life.” 

“You’re speaking shit,” I snapped, my voice shaking with rage. “What makes you think I’m running? You don’t know anything about why I’m here.” 1 

“Shut up,” he said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “The cold isn’t going to kill you. Ironmaw isn’t going to kill you. Taya isn’t going to kill you. But running might.” 

I stood there, my chest heaving, the pole feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. I didn’t have a response. His words were shifting something inside me, a jagged realization that I had spent years waiting for Kane to save me instead of saving myself. 

Fenris reached out and took the pole from my hand. “That’s enough for today.” 

He turned and started walking toward the fortress entrance. I followed, limping slightly as the adrenaline faded and the pain in my hip began to throb. As we reached the stone steps, Fenris placed a large, calloused hand on the small of my back for support. 

My heart skipped a beat at the touch. The heat from his palm soaked through my tunic, settling right over the bond in my marrow. 

“I’m just helping,” he muttered, his voice rough. 

At the entrance to my corridor, he stopped. “Freshen up. Join me for breakfast.” 

2/3 

35 The Dildoste 

+25 Bonus 

I looked at him, searching for the “weapon” his father had made, but all I saw was the man who had pulled me out of the water. I wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. 

He nodded once. “See you.” 

He walked away, his heavy furs disappearing into the shadows of the hall. I stood there for a long moment, my hand ghosting over where his touch had been, before turning into my room. 

*** 

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