Chapitre 11: New Bonds
The adrenaline from Orin's sparring match still coursed through his veins as he stepped off the arena platform. His limbs felt heavy, his breath uneven, but there was something different this time—something almost imperceptible. For the first time since the trial, he didn't feel completely out of place. The thought unsettled him, but it also gave him the faintest glimmer of hope.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing around at the others. Zeela had already returned to the group, her composure unshaken, as if the fight had been nothing more than a warm-up. Her silver hair caught the light, her sharp gaze scanning the rest of the students like a hawk. Orin couldn't help but feel a twinge of respect—and frustration. She was everything he wasn't: poised, precise, and completely in control. Her movements carried an ease and confidence that made him feel clumsy by comparison.
"Not bad for a rookie," a voice said beside him.
Orin turned to see **Wake**, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the training ground. His warm, easy smile was a stark contrast to the intensity of the sparring session. Wake's presence seemed to radiate calm, a quiet strength that was almost contagious, as though nothing could shake him.
"Could've been worse," Orin muttered, his voice tinged with self-deprecation.
"Could've been better," Wake replied with a smirk, crossing his arms. "But you didn't lose yourself. That's a win in my book."
Orin stiffened at the mention of losing himself. He hadn't told anyone about the beast—hadn't needed to. The trial and his performance on the platform had already given everyone a glimpse of the monster that lurked beneath his skin.
"I'm working on it," Orin said, his voice quieter now, his gaze fixed on the ground.
"You'll get there," Wake said, his tone earnest and steady. "Took me a while to get a handle on the phoenix blood. Burned down half a forest once. Not my finest moment."
Orin blinked, caught off guard by the admission. "You? You seem like you've got it all figured out."
Wake chuckled. "I'm a work in progress, same as everyone else here. Don't let the cool exterior fool you."
For the first time, Orin felt a flicker of relief. Maybe he wasn't as alone in his struggles as he'd thought.
The group dispersed shortly after Korran's dismissal. Orin found himself wandering the academy grounds, the weight of the morning's events still pressing on him. The sprawling campus was alive with activity—students practicing their abilities in training arenas, instructors lecturing in open-air pavilions, and clusters of peers exchanging stories and strategies. There was a constant hum of energy, a relentless drive that seemed to power every corner of the academy.
Despite the buzz around him, Orin felt out of place. His movements were hesitant, his gaze darting between groups of students who already seemed to know each other. *They've been here longer. They belong.*
"Looking lost, Slain," a sharp voice called out.
Orin turned to see Zeela leaning against a stone pillar, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. She tilted her head, her silver hair catching the light like spun moonlight.
"Wasn't sure you'd survive that match," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "You've got instincts, but instincts alone won't get you far."
Orin frowned. "Thanks for the advice," he said, his voice clipped and defensive.
Zeela smirked, her sharp gaze cutting through him like a blade. "Don't take it personally. I've seen plenty of new recruits come through here thinking they're unstoppable. Most of them wash out before the real challenges begin."
"I'm not like them," Orin shot back, his voice firmer than he expected.
"Good," Zeela said, pushing off the pillar with effortless grace. "Because if you are, you won't last long." Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, assessing, before she turned and walked away, leaving Orin standing alone with her words hanging in the air.
By the time evening fell, Orin was back in his small room, staring out the window at the distant lights of the academy's towers. The quiet was both a comfort and a torment. He couldn't stop replaying the day in his mind—the trial, the sparring, Zeela's piercing gaze, and Wake's surprising camaraderie.
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He opened it to find Wake standing there, holding a small pouch that jingled faintly.
"Thought you might be hungry," Wake said, handing over the pouch. "Mess hall's closed, but I snagged some snacks earlier."
Orin took the pouch, surprised by the gesture. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying to be the cool big brother type," Wake said with a grin. "Figured you could use a friend."
The word hit Orin harder than he expected. He hadn't thought about friendship in a long time. The Fangs had been his family, but the concept of peers, equals—people who weren't just mentors or protectors—felt foreign.
"Thanks," Orin said quietly, stepping aside to let Wake in.
They sat in the small room, sharing the food in silence for a while. The tension in Orin's chest eased as Wake told stories about his early days at the academy—his mishaps, his triumphs, and the lessons he'd learned along the way.
"You'll find your footing," Wake said eventually, his voice steady and reassuring. "It doesn't happen overnight, but you're here for a reason. Don't let anyone, not even yourself, convince you otherwise."
Orin nodded, the words settling over him like a balm. For the first time in days, the weight of his guilt felt just a little lighter.
Later that night, as Orin lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he thought about Wake's words. He thought about Zeela's sharp critique, Korran's gruff instructions, and Sonny's letter folded neatly under his pillow.
The beast was still inside him, a constant presence that he would always have to contend with. But here, in this strange, overwhelming place, Orin realized he wasn't alone. For the first time, he had a chance to forge something new—a purpose, a path, maybe even a family.
As sleep finally took him, Orin's dreams were filled not with blood and terror, but with faint glimmers of hope.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone