The next morning began before dawn.
The old training ground beyond the southern part of the black rose palace—long abandoned—was lit again. A low fire crackled in its hearth, illuminating training dummies, weapon racks, chalk circles, and a broad wooden floor.
The Black Rose Palace had once belonged to the legendary Empress Alexandra, whose name still echoed in the annals of war and strategy. The training ground had been hers. After her death, it faded into disuse, forgotten and layered in dust—until now.
Evelyn stood at the center, wearing a simple blue training dress—comfortable and efficient.
Cassy yawned as she stumbled in with Gerald. Ella arrived next, alert and composed. Melinda, Lily, Lora, and Claire followed. Each wore plain but flexible clothing—gear fit for motion without drawing attention.
Evelyn's voice rang out, sharp and clear.
Evelyn: "Today, we train as one. You'll rotate between three stations: weapons mastery, magic flow, and cooperative strategy. Gerald, you'll take charge of close combat and weapons. You're a knight—you have experience. These girls come from different paths, but they must all learn to defend themselves."
Lora blinked. "Us...?"
Evelyn: "Yes, you are all talented, but talent is raw—it needs to be sharpened. And when you're completely cornered, you'll need other skills to survive. After all, no one knows when the unexpected will come, so it's better to have one skill more than you think you need. I'll be watching you all closely."
Gerald stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
Gerald: "Alright. No slacking. I want one-on-one drills first. Let's go."
______
Hours passed.
Sweat dripped from brows.
Melinda crouched behind a dummy, calculating weak points and toxin absorption paths through fake wounds. Her eyes were analytical, coldly focused.
Cassy sat beside a chalked rune circle, slowly redrawing ancient characters with precise strokes.
Lily tried to levitate three pebbles in rhythm, her magic flickering like fireflies.
Ella sparred with Gerald, her dagger clashing again and again against his sword.
Evelyn watched it all—her gaze hawk-sharp.
Then she clapped her hands.
Evelyn: "Break. Water. Breathe."
They scattered.
Ella walked over to Cassy and offered her a water bottle.
Ella: "You're doing great, Cassy. That rune looked clearer than before."
Cassy smiled shyly. "I copied it from memory... it's getting easier."
Melinda flopped beside them, wiping her forehead.
Melinda: "I tried poison frosting on a biscuit this morning. Would've passed off as regular sugar."
Ella raised a brow. "And... you tried it?"
Melinda: "Of course. I'm practically unkillable with most poisons now."
Cassy blinked. "You say that like it's normal."
Melinda: "Normal's overrated."
They laughed softly, a thread of growing warmth between them.
Lora groaned from the side.
Lora: "Gerald fights like a walking fortress. I need a strategy book just to get past his footwork."
Gerald called over. "That's the point. Anticipate—don't just react."
Evelyn stepped back into the center, her tone shifting again to command.
Evelyn: "You're here to sharpen your strengths and learn how they work together. Lily, your magic is nimble, but too delicate under pressure. Melinda, your knowledge of toxins is impressive, but your reliance on it makes you predictable. Cassy, your mind is quick, but you are too slow. Lora, your potential shows — but your focus is inconsistent. Ella, you're all fire, but you need to temper it. Claire, you're focused, but you hesitate too much. All in all, each of you has a long way to go."
They turned toward her, listening seriously.
Evelyn: "Each of you holds a piece of the weapon I need. And when joined, you won't just be a team—you'll be a storm."
Their breath hitched.
Evelyn: "Rest. Tomorrow, we go harder. Week by week, you'll break and rebuild. Fail, and rise again. I will accept no less."
And though their limbs ached and the sun blazed above them, not one faltered.
They nodded.
Together.
And so began the fire forging the shadows of the princess.
They were no longer servants.
They were Evelyn's guardians.
And They will not let her down.
Time passed.
Days bled into one another beneath the unyielding sun. The Black Rose Palace remained a place of quiet elegance and whispered ridicule on the surface—but beneath, it had become a crucible: heated, relentless, and unforgiving.
From dawn until dusk, the six girls trained without mercy.
Muscles screamed. Bones ached. Spirits burned.
Evelyn's commands became their pulse; Gerald's strict lessons, their rhythm.
Each day, they shed old fears and forged new strength.
———
The sun rose in blood-red hues over the east, draping its sharp warmth across the old training grounds now marked by trampled grass and scattered weapons. The air was dry, crackling faintly with magic and muscle—a mixture of dust, sweat, and steel.
From the moment the distant morning horn echoed through the stone corridors, the girls moved.
Weapons first.
Then footwork.
Then magic.
Then again.
And again.
There were no breaks save water and breath. And even breath was learned—controlled, measured, and honed into an art under Gerald's watchful glare.
—
"Move your weight to the back leg before you twist—yes, just like that!" Gerald barked, grabbing Lily's wrist and adjusting her posture.
Gerald: "You've got fire magic. Use it. Stop holding back like it's made of glass."
Lily gritted her teeth, the small dagger trembling slightly in her hand.
Lily: "I'm not holding back."
"Then show me," Gerald replied coldly, stepping back with crossed arms.
She inhaled sharply, focused—and with a swift flick of her wrist, she threw the knife. As it flew through the air, flames ignited along its blade, streaking toward the training dummy.
The fiery knife struck true, engulfing the dummy in blazing embers before it toppled over. It wasn't graceful, but it was power.
Gerald smirked. "Good. Keep it up."
—
Nearby, Cassy sat cross-legged before a black rune-stone, her fingers trembling, dusted in chalk. Sweat beaded along her brow as she traced the rune lines for the fifth—no, sixth—time.
A flicker of light sparked… then hissed out uselessly.
She groaned, dragging a hand down her face.
Cassy: "Ugh, why won't it work?"
From behind her, Evelyn's voice cut through, calm but firm
Evelyn: "Less force. More intent. Magic responds to precision—not rage."
Cassy turned, exasperated. "Easy for you to say. You make it look effortless."
Evelyn approached. Her gaze settled on the half-formed rune, then back at Cassy.
Evelyn: "I never said it was easy. Remember, magic doesn't yield to anger. It yields to will."
She placed a steadying hand on Cassy's shoulder.
Evelyn: "And you've got more of that than you know. Now—again."
—