Shortly after Cavaar was surprised on the stairs by the assistant librarian, Yarik was pulled out of sleep by the hint of footsteps moving past his door. He rolled over and glanced at Cavaar's bed, still empty. The steps receded and Yarik went back to sleep thinking they were nothing more than a dream.

When the moon rose again, Hob was already sitting at the table by the time Yarik got his food. He sat down a distance from the boy and tried to ignore him. Unfortunately the table was small. 

“Yarik.” Hob said. “Hey, Yarik!” Yarik looked up. “I'm surprised you're still showing your face after what I did to it.”

“Yeah?” Yarik said. “I'm surprised your voice isn't an octave higher after what I did to your jewels.” A couple students laughed. Hob scowled and took an angry bite of bread.

Maria sat down across from Yarik. “You look terrible,” she said.

Yarik looked up, feeling like a rabbit in an open field. He touched his swollen nose. “Uhh.” Maria was smiling at him. A single strand of white-blonde hair fell down the side of her face. “You look, not.. terrible.”

“Thanks.” She said. “Listen, do you know what happened to Cavaar?”

“Cavaar?” Yarik thought for a moment. “No idea. Last time I saw him was when we were running our extra laps before the moon turned.”

“Hm.” Maria's brow furrowed. Her eyes flicked in front of her like she was reading an invisible scroll. “Wonder what they did to him.” She looked at Yarik.

He shrugged. “Teaching him a lesson… hopefully.”

The squad followed routine for the rest of the moon, which was a strange feeling without Cavaar. He was no longer there to dominate the sparring sessions, and without his bunk-mate by his side, Yarik noticed Maria a lot more. It wasn't good for his focus. By the time the moon was a few hands from setting, Yarik had cursed his eyes for staring too many times to count.

“Squad Four!” Dmitri called. Nine students ran and formed a straight line in the courtyard. Yarik wondered how they would pair off for duels with an odd number. “We won't be dueling this moon.”

Well that answers that. Yarik thought.

“Mareth made abundantly clear that you need to improve before your next evaluation.” Dmitri continued. “While a good many of you are grasping the concept of man to man combat, when the Cataclysm happens you will not be fighting men.” Yarik glanced at Maria. He wondered what she thought of him. Why am I thinking about that? Yarik shook his head and willed himself to focus on Dmitri. “You will be fighting beasts…” The instructor stepped towards the middle of the ring and motioned for the students to stand in a circle. “I am a Batrachus.” He drew the saber from his side and assumed a fighting stance. The sheen on the blade indicated the presence of poison. “And you are Blades.”

Yarik was still wondering what Dmitri was trying to explain when he attacked them. Moonlight flashed off steel and four students lay twitching on the ground. Hob was one of them. “A Batrachus does not fight honorably.” Dmitri told them. “It will not wait for you to acknowledge it.”

Yarik and the others scrambled to grab training blades from a rack nearby. Horace fumbled one and cut his hand. “Oh.” He said, growing pale. The blades were coated just like Dmitri's. The poison worked through his small body and he was unconscious before he hit the ground. Dmitri was among them in the next moment. Slashing a fleeing girl in the back.

The three survivors fanned out and surrounded him. Maria was facing him. Instructor and student swung at the same time and traded cuts, each landing a blow to the hand. “Ha!” She exclaimed, then realized that Dmitri was unaffected.

He inspected his gloved hand and watched her fall. “A Batrachus is immune to its own poison, you will need to attack it's legs.” Yarik slashed at his legs, but Dmitri blocked it easily. “Or it's head.”

Yarik and his remaining comrade, a tall, quiet boy from Valem named Pyotr faced their instructor turned Batrachus. Yarik no longer saw the gruff, hairy teacher, he saw a raging predator standing among seven twitching corpses - and it was going to kill him. Yarik and Pyotr exchanged glances. Pyotr raised his eyebrows, Yarik shrugged, then they both charged. Yarik's blade sliced through air as the Batrachus bowled towards Pyotr. There was a loud clang when claw and blade met and then a cry. Yarik's last ally met his end.

The beast spoke. “A Batrachus shows no mercy.” And then Yarik was asleep again.

The moon rose again, and again Yarik woke with a headache from Batrachus poison. This is getting old, he thought. I hope Cavaar is suffering.  He saw his friend at mid-moon meal.

“Hey Yarik!” Cavaar yelled.

Yarik spooned another cup of stew into his bowl. “I thought they killed you.”

“Myriel has been trying.”

“You should try Dmitri.” They stared at each other. Yarik couldn't help but smile a little. It was good to see Cavaar. Even if he was the cause of Dmitri's transformation into a Batrachus, he was the only person that didn't ignore him or treat him like a plague… except for Maria. A few squad members gathered around them.

“What happened?” Cavaar asked.

“Dmitri went crazy.” Yarik answered. “He suspended the duels and took all of us on because we had an odd number.” He frowned and looked down at his stew. “It didn't go very well.”

“Yeah, what you leave us for Cavaar? They give you some special assignment?” Hob joined them and drew some murmurs of support.

“No! Well I uh, tried to get into the forbidden library. Myriel had me cleaning after moon-set, and now I have to write some stupid treatise.”

“Oh I see, Cavaar breaks the rules and doesn't have to take his licks like the rest of us.”

“Did you hear what I said? He has me working!”

“Oh, doing girl's work is hard. Cavaar is tired. Well we've been getting whipped by Dmitri because of you! Don't think we won't remember it when you get out from under the librarian's robe.”

“What was that you said about girls Hob?” Maria appeared next to Yarik. “It's not Cavaar's fault you were too slow to last a second. How do you even know Dmitri whipped us if you were the first to hit the dirt?” The rest of the squad laughed. Hob just glared and stalked off.

“Thanks Maria.” Cavaar smiled and picked up two bowls to fill with stew.

“No problem, personally I'm glad Dmitri's turning it up a notch. You guys weren't really teaching me anything anyway.” She gave a smile and Yarik watched her walk off. He noticed Cavaar looking at him.

“What?”

Cavaar smiled and flicked his eyes towards Maria.

Yarik gathered his meaning. “Shut up!”

“I didn't say anything.” He filled the two bowls and turned back to Yarik. “Wish I could stay with you guys but Myriel wants me back. May the dawn see you well, friend.”

“And you, Cavaar.” Yarik watched him walk back out of the hall before his gaze fell on Maria. Why does her hair always look so nice? The thought ran through his head without permission. She looked up and seemed to notice him staring. He looked away and mentally kicked himself. Why did that keep happening? He resolved to make it stop as he walked over to the table.

“What's his deal anyway? He gets to the flag arena last and we get overwhelmed before we can get the flag down, and he just acts like its all our fault. We're better off without him, that's what I say.” The students gathered around Hob nodded. Yarik could never figure out why boys, when left to their own devices, chose the biggest one as a leader. He supposed it had something to do with a feeling of safety and power, but he could never bring himself to be some idiot's lackey. The big ones were without exception, idiots, and Hob proved that rule. Yarik tuned him out and stared at his stew.

Maria sat next to him in silence. Had she noticed him staring? Did she stare at him sometimes? Why couldn't he think about anything else? Yarik resisted the urge to slap himself in the face. Relationships in the Blades were strictly forbidden. It wasn't because of narrow-mindedness, it was practical. The simple fact was that training to be a Blade of Dawn was dangerous. No one knew when the Cataclysm would occur, just that when it did those still young enough would have to fight the beasts that came through. Even if one did survive, the life of a Blade was pointed towards doom. 

Dawn must follow night. The mantra echoed through Yarik's thoughts. He wondered how many Blades had died with those words on their lips, still in the dark and dreaming of a light they would never see.

He was rescued from his dark train of thought by Maria's arm brushing against his own. Startled, he looked at her and she smiled. By the Black she was pretty. “Let's go.”

“Where?” Yarik managed.

“To practice! Don't you want to be able to at least last a little longer against Dmitri?”

“Uh, right.” He was a little disappointed by her answer, and then he was disappointed that he was disappointed. In fact, he had been planning to practice anyway. When students finished their meals early it was not unheard of for them to use the time to practice or study, and his swordsmanship was in a much worse state than his learning. Still, Maria's smile had made him forget about fighting altogether. He followed her out of the hall and was pleased to see that the training grounds were deserted.

His swordsmanship was improving. Though his swings were still clumsy in comparison to Maria's dancing, precise arcs, he came close to landing a few. He even managed to trade cuts with her. The blunt training swords smacked both their hands as the blades intersected.

“Nicely done.” Maria gave him that smile again, she was breathing deep. Her porcelain hair had fallen down to rest just above her chest. It was rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. Just then, Yarik though it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Then he was on the ground, his breath wheezing out of him as he hit the dirt. Maria had executed a perfect take-down, she was kneeling over him with her knee on his chest, panting and smiling. “I win.”

Without thinking, Yarik raised his right hand to counter, but his fingers stopped at her face. It was the lightest of touches, but it was enough. He froze there, with his fingers resting gently on her cheek. Though he had often looked at her face and thought it made of glass or some fragile substance the lords used to make dolls for their daughters, Yarik found that her skin was soft and warm. He didn't want to move. Maria pressed her cheek against his fingers but stopped. Her face changed and she got up suddenly, turning her back to him. She covered her face with her hands, her slight figure was framed by the main gate.

“I'm sorry, I-, I-” Yarik was reaching towards her when the gate was consumed by a rushing inferno that bloomed from its base. The shock wave that followed on the heels of the flames lifted them off their feet. Yarik felt like his body was being tumbled and worked over by a boiling riptide. He heard a faint whistling and a crack as a piece of shrapnel connected with someone's leg. Wait, that's my leg, he realized just before he hit the ground.