The dormitory halls of Basgiath were deathly quiet this late at night. Just the way Xaden preferred them. The flicker of torchlight cast long, jagged shadows along the stone walls as he slipped through the corridor, careful to keep his steps soundless despite the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

He shrugged his coat closer against his shoulders, the faint scent of pine and ash still clinging to it from the run. His muscles ached pleasantly, a reminder of the punishment he’d put himself through to keep sharp. If anyone suspected where he’d been, they’d ask questions he wasn’t in the mood to answer.

Xaden rounded the corner toward his dorm, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Someone stood there. A girl, half-drenched in shadow, her posture tense as she fumbled with the strap of the bag slung across her shoulder. He barely suppressed the growl building in his throat. New recruit, clearly—probably lost, judging by the way she kept glancing at the doors. And she was in his way.

He stepped closer, the soft scrape of his boots against the stone finally catching her attention. Her head snapped up, and wide, startled eyes met his.

“What are you doing here?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care. Recruits needed to learn fast that this place didn’t tolerate mistakes.