Page 41 of Marked
The next morning began before the sun rose.
Blake groaned his way out of his bedroll like a man personally offended by physical effort, while Damien stood already stretched by the fire, a silent wall of focus and frustration.
Blair created a quick breakfast to fortify everyone before they began their journey.
Once nourished, they moved with the winding roads and sometimes hidden pathways.
Their pace was steady, unyielding, and silent except for the sound of their feet.
The path they followed wound through the dense forest and then into grassy plains.
Overhead, the sun tracked them like a watchful eye, its heat intensifying with each hour.
Damien led the way, hood drawn, eyes fixed on the shifting terrain ahead. Behind him, Blair matched his pace. Blake trailed just a few steps behind them both, muttering occasionally about sunburn, dust, and the tragic absence of snacks.
They didn't speak much as they traveled, not out of tension but because the road demanded their full attention. The three of them had agreed on a method: walk for four hours, train, rest, and repeat.
By the time the sun was almost halfway to its peak, they had passed the 4-hour mark. They came to a cracked stone worn smooth by years of wind and weather. Just beyond it, tucked between a small ridge and a line of boulders, was an extensive cleaning perfect for the day's first training site.
"Here," Damien said, halting. The others stopped beside him. The area was mostly flat and open, with enough stone and brush nearby to offer obstacles.
Blair dropped her pack and exhaled. She rolled her shoulders and stepped back, eyes already scanning the terrain. Blake followed suit, dropping his bag to the ground next to him. "So, about 4 hours down. Time to punch each other?"
Damien ignored him and moved into position on the flattened patch of dirt, raising a hand.
His own shadow stretched long and jagged beneath him, coiling ever so slightly despite the noon sun.
Blake mirrored him, shedding his cloak and stepping forward with a grin that was part challenge, part complaint.
Blair stayed back, settling onto a nearby rock. She pulled out a flask of water and drank slowly, eyes never leaving the makeshift ring where the two Shadowborn faced off.
It started simple: Damien, a clash of shadow tendrils, whipping low and fast. Blake, a constantly shifting figure, popped in and out of each and every shadow, trying to get the upper hand on Damien.
The sunlight weakened their edges, making the dark shapes flicker and ripple harder to control.
Both boys strained, working in concentration as they pulled their shadows into shape and controlled them, each in a unique but similar way.
Blair could see the effort in their movements. The way Damien's jaw tightened as he forced a barrier into existence, a wall of darkness only half-formed before it wavered in the harsh light and shattered into strands. Blake ducked into a shadow, reappearing behind Damien.
Neither of them spoke. The space around them filled with low grunts as they deflected each other.
Damien's technique was precise and controlled.
Every movement was deliberate, even under the most intense strain.
Blake was erratic but creative, using speed to make up for power and adapting in bursts.
They moved in a dance of flickering shadows, forcing their abilities to obey even when the sun tried to burn the power out of them.
Eventually, Blake's breathing grew labored.
Sweat shimmered on his forehead, and dust clung to their clothes.
Blake dropped to one knee first, panting.
"Can I wave my white flag now?" he wheezed.
Damien answered by giving a slight nod and letting his shadow retract fully.
It snapped back to his feet with a final flicker before going still.
Blair rose and walked over, handing each of them a canteen without a word, fighting down the pride she had for both of them.
"Still think this method is a good idea?" she asked Blake, nudging him. He drank deeply, then held up a finger. "Yes. Just... aggressively unpleasant. He is a monster.." Pausing mid-sentence, still trying to catch his breath. ".. does he ever get tired?"
"No, I've tried to tire him out on multiple occasions, but I have yet to win that battle." She responded with a wink.
"Oh. Ew." Blake said with a grimace as he disappeared into the shadow below him and shadowstepped away from the conversation.
They sat in the shade for half an hour, taking a rest. Blair jotted quick notes in a small leather-bound journal.
She had decided that when she wasn't actively helping with training, her form of help would be tracking information to help them improve. Today, she noticed Damien’s formations, Blake's recovery speed, and even the light's effect on their control.
She wasn't going to verbally comment on anything during their training, but she watched everything, writing down each of her thoughts.
Then, as the sun began its slow descent toward early afternoon, they stood again, packed up camp, and resumed their march. Four hours forward. Another site. Another battle.
The last one was about power and fighting through the draining sun.
This one was about control and precision.
Having an idea for both, Blair instructed Blake to come stand next to her on a big tree stump.
With arms full of various items, such as rocks, pinecones, and sticks.
Blair announced, "Okay, Damien, you are going to have to use your shadows to catch or smash these items. Do not let them touch the ground. "
"And what do I get when none of them touch the ground?" Damien questioned.
"Me." Blair teased .
"But if even one touches the ground, you get me. " Blake said with a smirk.
Damien's face paled, and he looked as though he was going to be sick. "I never know when you're joking or when you're actually serious." His expression lightened as he turned to Blair, "Let's get started."
They both took turns throwing them in the air.
Starting with a rock, slowly progressing to two items, and then, by the end of it, even three.
Damien moved effortlessly, his shadows either slicing or grabbing each time something was thrown.
After running out of items and proving he wouldn't miss, Damien approached with a smug look on his face.
Blake, however, began to pout, stomping his foot as he jumped down from the stump.
"Not so fast; you are up next." Blair says, stopping Blake from slipping away.
"I can't do that with my shadows." Blake retorts, walking back towards the group.
"I have a different game for you. Go stand over there.
" Blair pointed. "You are going to have to be quick.
Remember, the goal is speed and precision.
We are going to throw one thing at a time, you need to shadowstep to that shadow and stop the item from landing.
If we go too fast, just let us know. I'm not yet familiar with your abilities.
This will help me practice my aim as well. "
"Ooh, I like this game! What do I get when I win?" Blake says, wiggling his eyebrows .
"How about for every item you catch, I won't punch you in the dick." Damien threatened as he threw the first object.
Blake immediately shadowstepped to a nearby tree, catching the pinecone. "Don't tease me with a good time. I like it when daddy is rough." Disappearing as a stone came hurtling toward him. It lodged into the tree behind him.
Holding her side from laughing so hard, Blair looked at Damien's stone-cold face. "Okay, enough messing around." she manages to get out in between snorts. "Let's do this."
For the next fifteen minutes, they proceeded to toss various things in different directions for Blake to catch.
At first, the movements were quick and well-executed, but toward the end, he began showing signs of fatigue.
Fumbling on a tree branch, and then again on a ball of cloth, he held his hands up, motioning for them to stop.
"I guess my endurance isn't what I thought it was.
" Blake gasped, breathing heavily. Granting him time to recharge, they all agreed to rest a bit before continuing.
By day three, the routine was almost ritual. Breakfast. Hiking. Training. Today, they were focusing again on endurance.
"Alright," Blake yawned, running a hand through his mess of blonde hair. "Ready to make me cry again with your stoic superiority?" Damien didn't even glance at him in response.
"Five laps. Then sparring."
"You forgot the part where I nearly die from exhaustion. It's rude to leave out how hard I try." Blake whined .
They ran through a narrow path skirting the forest, feet crunching on packed dirt and dew-slick grass. Damien ran with the efficient grace of someone who had been trained since birth. Blake, while less polished, had the grit of someone too stubborn to stay down.
After the laps, the training began in earnest.
They moved through forms, knife, hand-to-hand, shadow control. Each time that Blake's focus slipped or his jokes dragged too long, Damien punished him with a jab to the ribs, or a leg sweep that planted him flat on his back.
Sometimes, Blair would keep score, cheering on one or the other to stir their energy.
"Okay, that was unfair," Blake wheezed after a particularly brutal fall. "You have a shadow advantage and a moral superiority complex. It's like fighting a rage-induced thunderstorm."
"Round two." Damien said, already resetting his stance and motioning for Blake to get off the ground.
Blake rolled to his feet and grinned. "At least buy me dinner first."