There will be some time skips here and there, just sayin'. 

POV: Starflesh

Holding back the words that threatened to spill forth was becoming increasingly difficult. Weeks had passed since my arrival at Besgiath, and I had been performing admirably on the training mats, successfully navigating every challenge. The violet hues of past injuries had faded, leaving me healed and ready to begin the arduous journey towards the gauntlet - that hellish cycle of training the king subjected me to every month. 

It was the final hurdle, the last few grueling yards I needed to conquer before being deemed worthy of consideration as a cadet. Yet, deep down, I knew that the title of "cadet" was one I had not genuinely embodied in years. The path ahead was daunting, but I could sense the simmering determination within, a fire that refused to be extinguished. 

Though the trials promised to test the limits of my endurance, I found solace in the knowledge that I had come this far, defying the odds repeatedly. With a steadying breath, I steeled my resolve, ready to face whatever challenges awaited, for the mantle of a true warrior was not bestowed upon the faint of heart.

The words sliced through the tension like one of Elena's blades. "Oh, shut it."

Tynan. That prick had been a raw nerve ever since he swaggered into our quad days ago. His arrogant smirk and that stupid ponytail made my skin crawl. My fingers twitched, aching to wrap around his neck and squeeze until the life drained from those mocking eyes.

Speaking of draining life...you're probably wondering about Imogen. The little bitch lucked out this time. I took care of her, all right. Put her ass in the healers' ward with a few cracked ribs and a brand-new shiner. Not dead, but she'll think twice before crossing me again.

Violet's turn at the gauntlet comes first, but I'm not worried about our fierce little girl. This is just training, a warm-up act. She'll clear it with no problem. It's a dry run for me anyway - the real show starts when I step through those gates.

I can taste it, that familiar metallic tang of adrenaline and fear. Bring it on. I'm staring down the gauntlet, not flinching, not backing away.

It's my time to become the weapon they created.

"Starflesh," our prisoner sneered, but his voice didn't sound steady. Good. I wanted him scared stiff.

These teachers might cringe at my presence, but they better respect the weapon they created. My shoulders were rolling, and I stalked forward, a white cloak billowing heavily around me.

"Um, you--" The words faded on his tongue as he realized taking off this cloak was not an option. I knew better than to test me.

In a blink, the sniveling coward was off, pounding down the mountain slope, scrambling over those spinning logs, hurtling across that damn balance beam (could never remember the damn name). Up the greased pillars slicked to punish average cadets. Finally, he reached the summit, leading to the vale - the flight field where we'd be doing precision drills in just a few hours.

I'd be showcasing the talents that made even seasoned instructors wet their robes. Starflesh didn't know half of what terror I could unleash. But he was about to get one hell of an education.

I rolled my shoulders, and Rhiannon cheered, "Well done, Starflesh!" I gave a smile she couldn't see behind my mask and reached for my belt, retrieving a glittering crystal water bottle to quench my thirst. Soon enough, the bottle was empty. I waited for the rest of our quad to make it through - we'd lost one, but the others traversed the gauntlet intact.

Sawyer, of course, blazed through faster than the rest. That is not surprising for someone so talented. I had to give him that. The boy was cute, I'd give him that too. Those tousled chestnut locks, that mischievous grin peeking out as he brushed dirt from his armor. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and I had to tear my gaze away before my mind wandered anywhere inappropriate with an audience.

Sawyer shot me a wink as he passed like the cocky bastard knew exactly what I'd been thinking. This wasn't a game to him - everything was a conquest. But two could play at that game. I'd crush him on the flight field later, put that smirk in its place where it belonged.

For now, I focused on our garrison instructor as he launched into the next stage of briefing. This was no time to get distracted. Not when I had a performance to prepare for - one that would solidify my reputation as a fighter to be feared.

"You all made it, and yes, we lost one, but that is what happens here in the quadrant. Be happy you made it this far," he said, hands on his hips. "You're all doing good now, cadets, but wait until the dragons see you. Then you won't be feeling so high and mighty." He stiffened when his gaze raked over me, a white figure among all the muted blacks. I was wearing rider black too, but rather the rider white, coupled with my hood and cloak. I looked like a light bulb out here.

"Ahem, anyway, go that way," he pointed down the gnarly path toward the flight field. "You will see a riot of dragons, even a few reds with us. Be careful not to stare them in the eye. Remember everything you learned - you'll need it here more than ever. Good luck; I hope to see you guys after your little stroll." He then dipped his head. "Good luck," and walked off, leaving me and my squad to take on the walk by the dragons.

The others exchanged nervous looks, but I wasn't fazed. Let the beasts try and rattle me - I was the White Ghost now. Fear was for the initiated. As we started down the path, I pulled my hood low over my eyes, cloak swaying behind me like a beacon. The dragons could keep their fiery glares. My aura would chill their rage to foolish embers. I was the master here, and it was time they learned to respect the coming storm.