Saryntha Sayra, age 15, sat beneath the tree, the world around her buzzing with energy she felt disconnected from. Everyone was training, finding their rhythm, their pce. Sarn? She didn’t even know where to start. She longed to train in a group, to feel like part of a team, but she had no one to turn to. The loneliness felt sharper in a crowd.

  Her eyes wandered and stopped on a boy standing under the tree, just as distant as she was. Is he like me? Alone, unsure? Or does he choose to be this way? The thought lingered as she gnced back at the others. Why him, though? Why did I notice him?

  A shout broke her thoughts—chaos spreading as students ran to see the team lists. Her heart sank. What if no one picks me? What if I’m out before I even start? Anxiety bubbled up as she pushed herself to follow the crowd, her steps heavy. She scanned the board. Her chest tightened until her eyes found it:

  Team 149

  Leader: Rowan

  Participants:

  Liam Ango

  Saryntha Sayra

  Ema Sujes

  Sarn exhaled, the tension draining from her shoulders. She wasn’t left out. For the first time in a long while, relief repced the gnawing fear. She belonged somewhere.The sword in Sarn’s hand felt heavier than usual, as if it sensed her doubts. She gripped it tighter, knowing what awaited her: rejection after rejection. She tried to prepare herself for it, to accept that failure was inevitable. But no matter how much she tried, her strikes always missed their mark.

  Maybe she didn’t even know how to strike properly yet. The thought gnawed at her, but she was too scared to ask anyone for help. The others seemed so sure of themselves, moving with practiced ease.

  “Hey, you’re not doing it right,” a voice called out.

  Sarn froze, startled. Turning her head, she saw a girl a little older than her, holding her own sword with casual confidence.

  “I know,” Sarn said, her voice uncertain. “I’m new. How…how do I do it?”

  The girl’s expression softened. “Here’s how you do it,” she said, demonstrating a fluid movement. As her sword sliced through the air, water coiled around the bde, shimmering in the light.

  Sarn’s eyes widened in astonishment. That’s possible? It seemed like magic.

  Her mind raced with impatience. When would she be able to do something like that? The movements were fascinating, almost hypnotic, but Sarn couldn’t even get the basic form right. Still, she gritted her teeth and started practicing as the girl had shown her, her strikes clumsy but determined.