Inside the room is a rectangular wooden conference table with enough seats for eight people. Windows span the entire back wall. The dusty brown blinds are open to the busy activity around the arena.The generals sit at the far opposite end, with Targe at the head of the table. And my academy commander is leaning against the wall next to a small side table with water pitchers and glasses. A gold labeled whiskey bottle cap lays next to the serving tray.

　　"Cadet Oren," says General Targe. "This interview is part of the investigation into the incident concerning your graduation trial. You will recount what transpired from the moment you entered the arena until your instructors reached your position. You will answer all questions, in detail. Do you understand, cadet?"

　　Targe is a master of composure. I try to read him, but he`s giving me nothing. No elevated heart rate, breathing is steady, no glistening on his forehead, temples or upper lip. There`s nothing to tell me about his intent, mood, or whether or not I`m in trouble.

　　"Sir, yes, sir." I reply clearly.

　　"How are you feeling, cadet?" The red-haired general says.

　　He`s leaned over the table on his elbows. I was right, he is younger than the others by at least a decade. The fold of his jacket covers the name on his uniform. His expression is blank, but his eyes look me over. I touch my chest, hearing the bandage crinkle underneath my uniform and make a show to be gentle.

　　"Sir, I`m good. The wound wasn`t too deep." I move my hand back to the at ease position.

　　"Yes, I saw it in the infirmary." The commander agrees from the lazy lean he takes against the wall. "A nasty one, but nothing vital was damaged."

　　"Interesting." General Targe draws out each syllable.

　　His stare is like a laser beam trying to penetrate my brain. I concentrate on not fidgeting.

　　"Let`s start when you entered the arena, cadet." General Fallow takes over, earning a cutting glance from Targe. Fallow reaches across the table and presses a button. The center of the wood splits open to reveal a large touch screen.

　　"Begin recording." Fallow`s voice lights up the screen as squiggly lines of sound waves appear, ready to record.

　　Targe nods at me to proceed. Well, I entered the arena and came face to face with not one, but three demons. With my super speed, I evade them to keep them from ripping me to pieces. I took out the Grunt demon with a ground attack. I jumped over the Blaze high enough to see into the observation deck to escape his fire. With my enhanced vision, I tracked the Flick demon`s teleportation to deliver a killing blow. Then, I used it as a shield against the Blaze`s fire attack.

　　It`s the truth, but that`s not the account I can give them. Survival means lying or being vague. With all the hiding, stealing, and cover-ups I do day in and day out, lying still never feels right to me. It goes against our warrior-born instincts. I prefer to say nothing at all if given the chance. But that won`t work now. I clear my throat and begin.

　　"I entered the arena and saw the fog from the Mist pouring inside from underneath the access tunnel doors. When the tunnel doors flew open, I expected the Grunt demon I was meant to fight for my trial, but only saw more fog rush in."

　　I keep my expression blank, my voice steady, and my gaze just past Targe to the windows behind him. I try not to rush my words, but I want to get through this as fast as I can.

　　"Before I manifested my second weapon, three demons entered the arena before me. The Grunt was the first one to charge. I used my blades to take it out."

　　"And just how did you take it out?" Targe cuts in.

　　His thick arms are crossed in front of him. He sits back like a king above his servants. I swallow and continue.

　　"I sprinted to meet its charge and used the momentum to slide underneath it on my knees. My blades ripped through the soft underbelly. I used the drill the academy taught me."

　　His eyes narrow before he looks over at the commander as if to verify my statement. We learned the slide maneuver as a means to dodge and escape, not as an attack move, but hey, it`s not a lie.The author`s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

　　"We arm our cadets with the best training possible at this academy." The commander says.

　　He moves off the wall and stands straight. His meaty hands squeeze into the tight front pockets of his jacket. His smile shows all his yellowed teeth, proud of the top notch training his academy provides. I catch a soft snort from general red-hair. Targe`s eyes slide to the young general next him and his jaw muscle ball up.

　　"Proceed." Targe says.

　　"I could hear the instructors trying to open the arena locks, so I kept moving, trying to stay alive until the doors opened." I finish and wait in silence. My eyes locked onto the far windows again.

　　"Cadet." Targe calls for my attention. "How did you manage to kill the Flick demon?"

　　He leans forward, his forearms on the table almost salivating to catch me in a lie. His question is a trap he can`t wait for me to spring. There`s no way a cadet could take on a Flick demon on their own. The others show no emotion, intently waiting for my response.

　　"I didn`t." I answer. His eyes harden and narrow. "The Blaze killed the Flick."

　　"Explain." Targe`s thin lips are a crumpled line across his mouth.

　　"When the instructors came into the arena, the Flick appeared in front of me, right before the Blaze released its fire breath. The Blaze was distracted by the instructors entering the arena and its fire breath shot out onto the Flick." My mouth is dry as I continue.

　　"The Flick darted towards me, claws out, and I fell wounded, trapped underneath it." I move my gaze off the general and back to the windows. I hope the long hair across my forehead is covering the trickle of sweat crawling down my face.

　　"Yes." Fallow breaks the silence and I want to sag at the relief. "The Flick was nothing but char and ash. Seasoned warriors can`t kill a Flick by themselves, much less a cadet." He looks down at the touch screen before him.

　　Targe sighs loudly, leaning back in his chair. They ask more questions and I answer, crediting the training maneuvers I learned at the commander`s academy. Targe`s stare grows icy and far away as my statements continue. The commander moves closer to the table as his pride takes over, and he starts answering their questions for me.

　　I`m able to reply in complete honesty when asked if I knew what happened to the electronics on the arena doors. The question no one asks is how three demons moved through the access tunnel, out of their cage, and into the arena without anyone noticing. A breach like that could`ve been disastrous. Yet, they don`t seem worried about it. And that says more about the lengths they`ll go to get rid of me than I ever want to know.

　　"Cadet," general red-hair interjects, "nothing like this has ever happened in the history of our academies. Our academies are equipped with above-standard safety precautions and technology to keep the next generation of warriors safe. It`s vital for all of our survival."

　　His tone is angry and it`s not with me for once. It`s in a warrior`s blood to protect others and to destroy demons. And his anger is about the system failing to protect cadets. The warrior-born are the only reason the demons stay beyond the walls and our numbers are finite.

　　"Generals and commander." Targe jams a thick finger onto the screen, stopping the recording. "I believe we have everything we need to complete the investigation." The generals sit back, look at one another, and nod in agreement.

　　I stare into the abyss of Targe`s black eyes and await my fate. This is it. This is where they blame me for the breach. Orens let demons in before. It`s actually the perfect setup to get rid of me. I take in a deep breath and release it slowly through my nose as I count through the exhale, calming my powers.

　　"Cadet Oren." Targe`s voice booms. I swear the water in the glass before him ripples. "Congratulations." It sounds more like a curse than a praise of achievement. "You passed your trial objective, defeating one Grunt demon as required, regardless of your trial`s...malfunctions."

　　"Congratulations, Primus." Fallow repeats with a quick smile.

　　"Malfunctions?" I bite my cheek to keep from wincing at my outburst. They aren`t blaming me or anyone else. I need to shut up and take the win.

　　"Yes." Fallow sits back resigned to accept the technical failure as if he had a hand in it. "Top technicians from Centrum are on site and reported an electrical outage caused both the demon cage locks and the arena doors to malfunction."

　　I immediately look at Targe. They already knew it was a malfunction and still questioned me as if I was on trial for what happened. A slight raise of one of Targe`s brows dares me to question their methods.

　　"Thank you. I understand perfectly."

　　Targe smirks. "Glad to hear you understand, Cadet Oren."

　　His emphasis is not lost on me. I understand alright. I understand I`m not worth the resources or effort for a real investigation. I understand I need to play my part. I understand I need to catch a transport to my village post right after graduation instead of staying another night at the academy. I might not be lucky enough to escape next time.

　　"You mean Warrior Oren, general." The red-haired general corrects Targe.

　　I think Targe`s head is going to fly off his shoulders with the forceful jerk he gives the young general at being corrected.

　　"Of course, Warrior Oren now." Targe replies, flipping the switch to say it with all the charm he used during the opening ceremony. It`s disturbing and feels more threatening than his silent death stare.

　　"You`re dismissed." The commander says finally joining the others at the table.

　　I give a quick unanswered salute and leave them talking, glad to get the hell out of there. The sun sits low outside the commander`s office. I gulp in the fresh air. The breeze cools my heated skin and damp uniform. It`s time to get ready for graduation.

　　My mind is spinning with everything that`s happened as I walk back to the barracks. I end my last day at the academy just like all the rest since I was six years old, tired and amazed I survived. It`s really over. I actually did it. All the pain and suffering is over. I`m graduating. I`m going home, back to Hallow Point.

　　Every village watches after their own. Everyone pitches in to maintain warrior-born property for as long as needed, while families fulfill their duty at the wall or the next heir takes up residence. I want to believe my ancestral home still stands. That the village would still have reverence for a founding family home that`s stood for over two thousand years. But I don`t hold on to any hope that`s true in my case.

　　There`s guard housing available for warriors in service without family. But the whole reason for going back to Hallow Point is to be in my childhood home and have access to generations of Oren archives and history. I have to know who my family really was, why they turned on their own, and caused the attacks.

　　Are we really the villains and not the heroes they raised me to believe we were? And what about my powers? Am I the only one like this? I`m determined to catch the transport tonight. I need to go home before these powers grow beyond my control. Before I hurt someone, like they did.