Basic Fireborn training chopped off my ass and handed it to me on a silver platter. I woke up every day at the fifth chime along with the other initiates. As a night owl, I'd never done that.

Thank the gods, the Creator demanded that a flask of coffee be left outside my bedroom door every morning. Even though it scalded my tongue and throat, I chugged the hot liquid like it was the elixir of life.

Our drill sergeants gave us only twenty minutes to wash, brush our teeth, dress in our combat armor, make the beds, and present our rooms. They stood in the corridors, timing us.

"Two minutes, Initiates! Let's go!" Sergeant Barker shouted.

He never failed to live up to his namesake.

Any lack of tidiness or hygiene was punished with ten lashes in front of the other Initiates. With an actual whip. I'd never heard of anything so barbaric. In Halden, students didn't receive any kind of corporal punishment--even if they did something terrible, like cheating on an exam.

He tossed a gold coin on my bed. "If this shit don't bounce, five lashes!" he roared, ripping the sheets off my bed. "Two minutes, Initiate. Don't make me check again!"

What a pedant!

Racing at the speed of starlight, I remade my bed. He threw a coin on the sheets as my heart leaped into my throat.

It bounced.

"All right, let's go!" Barker said, his voice ringing in my ears.

Peter and Marcus were standing at attention in the hallway. Barker separated Peter and me, but at least I was in the same group as Marcus. I didn't recognize anyone else.

"Move it out! Jogging in the gym."

We did an about-face and jogged through dark, cavernous hallways towards the gym. My stomach grumbled in irritation, and I began to regret missing my evening meal the night before.

If we missed mess hall, we went hungry. No snacks. No food. So Peter and I had only a jug of water for the night after a fourteen-mile hike.

I thought I was going to die.

"Five in forty-five, ladies!" Barker said, his voice echoing in the empty gym. It resembled more of an indoor arena with rows and rows of receding wooden bleachers. "Five lashes for every incomplete mile."

"Damn!" I grumbled to Marcus under my breath. "Is he for real?"

"'Fraid so," he replied. "Once I received ten lashes with an ice whip 'cause I forgot to call him Drill Instructor after our Protocol Training."

"Why an ice whip?"

"Fireborn flesh is hard to pierce." Marcus checked to make sure the drill sergeant wasn't running behind us. "We're completely impervious to fire and heat. But ice? Doubly painful. And doubly dangerous."

I gasped. "What happened?"

"Couldn't rest my back against anything for a week. Even after I visited the infirmary."

"Damn!"

"Let's get a move on, ladies!" Barker roared at Marcus and me. "This ain't no fun fair. Move it!"

The Sergeant cracked his ice whip against the legs of a slow Initiate, and she cried out in pain. I gasped when her black blood trickled down her calves as she ran towards a trash can. After doubling over and vomiting, she jogged back towards us.

"I...just had a...Fireborn treatment, Drill Instructor," she said, breathless.

He cracked his whip against the ground, making her flinch, and his blue eyes glared with menace. "Do I look like I give a damn, Initiate? Carry the bucket and puke in it if you have to."

The half-morphed female Initiate ran faster than I thought possible, passing both of us on the track. She retched after the next lap, her skin a sickly shade of green.

"If Barf-Bitch over here can run faster than you lot, you'd better hustle!"

It was ridiculous.

As I passed him, the Sergeant grabbed my arm and yanked me back. "Don't think for one second that I'll go easy on you just because you're the Leader."

"How dare you?" I hissed under my breath. "Don't you remember who I am?"

He slapped me so hard my face jolted to the side. "You're lucky you haven't had Protocol Training yet, or that'd be ten lashes. You call me drill instructor. Got it?"

"Yes, Drill Instructor."

"The Creator's orders override yours, and he's given me a great deal of leeway make sure I whip you into shape."

Asshole.

"Yes, Drill Instructor."

Barker bent down and whispered in my ear. "Literally whip you. I'm just waiting for you to fail so that I can beat your back so hard that you can't breathe."

Never. Gonna. Happen.

"Yes, Drill Instructor."

"Move it out, Initiate!"

Barker shoved me back into the line with the other nineteen of us, all running for our lives. All afraid of being last. Marcus gave me a gentle nudge as I struggled to keep up.

"Come on, don't let him win," Marcus said. "You got this."

That was all the impetus and encouragement I needed. Marcus and I finished first.

No lashes for us, Barker.

❄️🔥❄️🔥

We had training for everything: Protocol Training, Weapons Training, Weight Training, and Teamwork Training. They even gave us Hygiene Training.

Barker stood there teaching us how to take an efficient shower in three minutes. He explained to us the exact order we had to wash our bodies and how long each step should take as well as how many times we should tug the pull cord to rinse before the next batch showered.

No more baths. Even for leaders.

The Sergeant proceeded to instruct us on the new Fireborn language, an odd mixture of Ancient Risan and guttural Ancient Draconic. We couldn't even speak our own language except during our off-duty hours. Deviations would earn us ice lashes.

Barker taught us how to talk to the drill instructor. When we could eat. How long we could sleep. How often we could go to the infirmary before we were ice-lashed back to health.

Almost anything seemed worthy of an ice lash: a frustrated groan, a petulant sigh, or a scoff. The wrong answer meant a whipping, and silence didn't even save us from the its wrath.

No wonder these Fireborn walked around like mindless drones. If the chemicals didn't destroy their will to resist, the brainwashing did.

❄️🔥❄️🔥

Somehow I managed to complete my first day of training unscathed. Marcus couldn't even say the same, and he'd been here for weeks.

When I entered the Mess Hall, I was dead on my feet. Waiting in line for my food, I almost fell asleep standing up. But I wasn't the only one. All the other Initiates' eyes drooped in the same way.

Every time I passed a metal bench, the others glared at me. Don't sit here, they seemed to say without speaking. I didn't have the strength to resist, so I went to the far corner and sat alone.

"May I join you?" Peter asked a few moments later.

"Gods, am I glad to see you!" I exclaimed in Risan dialect.

"Shh, speak only in Diabolan during training!" Peter admonished me. "If they catch you--"

"I'll get the ice whip." I rested my forehead on the metal slab as Peter sat across from me. "I know. I might get whipped if I breathe too much."

Unbeknownst to me, Barker had strolled towards us and banged his metal truncheon on the slab, shocking me awake with a yelp.

"This ain't no time to sleep, Initiate." He picked up my food tray and slammed it on the metal table, pointing at the unrecognizable slop that smelled like burned pork fat and tomatoes. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry, Drill Instructor. I just had my Fireborn treatment."

"Don't bitch at me if you're hungry tomorrow morning," Barker hissed. "Remember, you fail to complete your five in forty-five, and my whip is just dying to get acquainted with your back."

Peter growled under his breath.

Barker whipped his head towards Peter. "What's that, Initiate?"

"I didn't speak, Drill Instructor."

"Didn't think so." He pointed at both of us. "I got my eye on you two." The Sergeant leaned closer to my ear. "Don't encourage him. He's got the first signs of falling already."

My stomach clenched, and the food suddenly looked even less appetizing.

"Don't listen to him," Peter whispered to me as soon as Barker was out of earshot.

He reached over and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. His familiar scent of embers and mint wafted towards me. My breathing became shallow when he rubbed tiny circles against my palm.

"We shouldn't," I whispered. "He's right. It's not fair to you."

"If I just preserved your soul, surely holding your hand is okay."

"That's different."

"Let me make that call--what I can and can't handle."

"Fair enough."

I didn't have the strength to argue anyway.

Marcus came over as though he wanted to sit with us before he grimaced as though he'd just smelled something rancid. "Sorry, I didn't realize you two were ma--"

"That's enough, Marcus," Peter growled as he gave him an angry glare. "Now you know. Leave, and I forbid you from discussing this with anyone or you'll face the Creator."

"Understood," he muttered under his breath.

I furrowed my brow as Marcus sat next to Alicia, who glared at me from two tables over. I knew why she hated me, but I had no idea what had just happened between Peter and Marcus.

It'd be one thing if Marcus liked me. I knew for a fact that he liked Alicia, though, and we were just friends.

Maybe Peter didn't realize how jealous and possessive he seemed. He certainly never acted that way as a Human. Perhaps the Fireborn hormones were getting to him.

When I gave Peter a puzzled expression, he clenched his jaw and shook his head.

I knew better than to press him.