Page 54 of Of Blackened Blood (The Blackened Blade #3)
MICAI
I throw on a black skintight vest top and pair of leggings that I keep in Ezra’s room before slipping into my trainers.
I glance in the mirror as I sweep my hair back and take a deep breath.
It had been a long week between classes, training and sneaking in and out of the dorms trying to keep an eye on Seria.
Annex, Ezra, Mallyn, and I had slept in the dorms last night, but Ezra disappeared by the time we all woke up. He had left a note saying he would meet us at the abattoir for training, but I hadn’t seen him once since arriving.
I glance around the room, the sun shining outside and the smell of spring seeping in through its small opening.
We were finally able to sleep-in instead of rushing to classes. Not that Annex and Mallyn ever “ rush. ”
I stretch out my arms. Saturdays were becoming my new favourite day of the week.
Most of the student body had left to return home for the weekend, which meant no assholes or classes to deals with.
And Seria also left with her pawns, which meant we didn’t have to keep a constant watch on her here.
Something I was grateful for with all the training Isaiah was throwing at us lately.
The past week had been exhausting and more hectic than ever with Isaiah’s Spartan regime.
He had us spar every day, as well as train in weights and obstacle-course work, even dragging us to the forests around town to run continuous laps of the area.
We’ve been drained every day with no time for anything other than going to the academy’s classes and his abattoir hellish workouts in the evening and night.
The big asshole didn’t believe in breaks. And also plans to eat away at our weekends too. Didn’t the dick have a shop to run?
But even though I was tired and drained— and planned Isaiah’s murder countless times in my head —I’ve also begun to see the result of it all.
I have better control over my strength and speed than I ever had before and can call my blades to me from the marks on my body with just a simple thought now.
I feel for the connection thrumming inside me, flowing like the blood surging through my veins and grab hold of it, pulling it toward me.
And within a split-second, a dark liquid pours from the marks on my wrists before twisting and swirling, quickly taking on their solid shape in my hands, and turning into the deadly black blades I’ve come to love.
I twirl the large curved blades in my hands as I glance in the mirror.
They slice through anything that comes toward me like it’s made of air and can withstand fighting against even the toughest of substances.
Not even a scratch or dent on the beautiful black metal after fighting through a barrage of weapons and magical attacks thrown my way by Ezra, Creed, and Isaiah.
I twirl them back and forth between my fingers. They seem to shape themselves to my preference the more I use them too, becoming easier and lighter to handle. Now, they feel more like an extension of myself rather than a weapon I’m holding or using.
And I feel like I’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of what I can do with them.
I’m pulled from my thoughts as I hear my name called downstairs, Isaiah’s loud, gruff voice ringing out all the way up here. Pulling my blades back into my marks, I make my way downstairs and into the abattoir’s main space, searching for my sparring partner for the day, Ezra.
Creed is sparring with Annex on one side of the room, both of them a little bloodier than I’d like for a friendly sparring session. And Mallyn is stretching himself out for a few laps around the forest with his beast. But I can’t see Ezra anywhere.
My lips tilt into a frown, thinking of my beautiful Siren.
He was looking more and more tired each day; even Creed wore a crease in his brows while watching him these days.
Has he been pushing himself too much? Was he worried about all the attacks, or was something else on his mind?
My Mate was too deep and held too much inside, not wanting to burden others. But what was family for if not this?
They taught me that we can each take a piece of the burden from one another and help to lighten the weight on each other’s shoulders. He shouldn’t try to manage everything by himself. It will only wear him down.
I’d have to talk to him soon about what was bothering him, before it fully consumes him.
Isaiah makes his way over from the target-practice area he’s been setting up, his eyes glancing around the room before meeting mine.
“Where’s the purple one?” Isaiah asks, his brows pinched and voice gruff.
Something I’ve realised over the past few days is this is his normal go-to expression and tone. It’s also the same for when he’s happy, angry, bored, and super pissed off. Annex tried and tested the last three numerous times for his own amusement.
“Ezra isn’t here yet ...” I peer toward the larger abattoir doors leading to the parking lot and town. “But I’m sure he’ll arrive soon.”
“Well, in the meantime, you can practice with these.” Isaiah gestures to two circular targets the size of dartboards spread out across the room.
There are multiple objects: poles, pillars, tables, and even a couple of mannequins obstructing my view and limiting my throw range.
“Make sure not to hit anything but the targets.” He smirks, marking a space on the floor for me to stand, a fair distance from the targets he’s set up. “Let’s see how your aim has improved.”
I call to my blades, my marks heating as they form in my hands within seconds.
Gripping them, I take a step forward and onto Isaiah’s designated spot.
I peer past the objects and mannequins, their hands and legs sprawled in awkward positions trying to further distract me as I zone in solely on the two bullseye marks in the distance.
I take a deep breath and grip my blades before twisting around and throwing them toward my targets.
They glide past the poles and pillars, missing the mannequins by mere millimetres before slamming into the two targets, both sitting dead centre and in their red bullseyes.
The wood instantly cracks with the force of my blades before falling to the ground.
I call my black blades back to me, and they instantly disappear from the boards and flow back into the marks on my wrists.
I turn back to Isaiah, a smirk lifting my lips as I watch his eyes slightly widen. His own grin appears, an impressed look taking over his features for a brief second before he schools it and turns my way. “Not bad.”
He walks toward the objects and broken targets, gathering new pieces and resetting them into new positions but further away this time.
He adds two more metal poles and new objects to obstruct my view and path to the targets, including a large sign I think I’ve seen in town before, as well as a thin bookshelf.
He also adds a crying baby doll on top of a pillar and sets it directly in front of one of the targets.
“Let’s see if you can do it again ... with a couple of distractions.” He makes his way back over, his smirk growing as my lips pull down into a frown with the incessant wailing. One that only seems to be growing louder.
I roll my eyes and call my blades again, the beauties instantly appearing as I ready myself for round two.
For the next few minutes, we go back and forth with Isaiah setting up more and more targets, placing them further way each time, with more objects blocking my path to them. And each time, I hit the bullseyes perfectly.
I’m so focused on our little game that I don’t even realise that Annex, Creed, and Mallyn have now joined us. Each of their eyes grow wider and their expressions fill with surprise as I make light work of each of Isaiah’s little targets.
“Fuck, Red. Even I’d struggle hitting a target that small with all that shit in the way.” Annex wraps an arm over my shoulder after I throw my second blade. “Especially without destroying all that shit in my path. That takes some mad control.”
My blade hits the last target in the distance, destroying another one for the tenth time with ease and with no more boards in sight.
“One more time,” Isaiah calls, heading back in between the mess he’s made trying to obstruct my aim as my brows scrunch together.
What was he planning to use as a target? I’m pretty sure I’ve destroyed all the ones he brought with him.
He pulls out a wooden spiked ball from a little brown bag he’s holding. The object is smaller than his hand as he places it on a thin metal pillar a foot from the farthest wall in the abattoir. And the furthest distance so far by almost double.
Then he places the largest mannequin a few inches in front of the metal pillar, blocking my view and obstructing my aim completely.
“How the hell is Red supposed to hit that shit?!” Annex yells, taking a step toward Isaiah as he makes his way back to us. “It’s impossible?—”
“Nothing is impossible with those blades,” Isaiah calls, cutting Annex off and ignoring his glare as he turns to me. “Do you think you can do it, Micai?”
I glance toward the mannequin, remembering the placement of the spike behind it, right around its mid-section. I grip my blades tightly in my hands, the black metal glistening back at me, almost whispering its confidence as my fingers stroke its metal softly.
“Just do your best, Red?—”
“Shh. Let her focus.” Mallyn cuts Annex off, his eyes narrowed toward the mannequin standing in my way, looking as if he himself wanted to dash over and knock it down for me.
I raise my blade, taking a deep breath before pulling my arm back and sending it forth, willing it to move around the mannequin and imagining it slicing the spiked ball in half.
The blade curves past the large mannequin, swerving around it and the pillar before flying back toward me like some homing-boomerang.
I catch it with ease and stare curiously at the black metal glistening back at me before turning to the men around me.