JuneThe dining hall hums with noise the moment we step inside.Voices overlap. Trays clatter. The smell of food hits me all at once, warm and heavy and real. Eggs, bread, something fried, something sweet. My stomach tightens in response, sharp and demanding. We are not the only ones here. Other trainees fill the space, groups I do not recognize, faces harder, older, some younger. From what I overhear, this place runs on rotations. People come and go. The Academy never sleeps.Misha walks beside me, her limp more noticeable now that the run is done, but her eyes are bright as she scans the buffet like it might disappear if she blinks too long.We grab plates from the stack. The ceramic feels solid in my hands. I move down the line, scooping food without hesitation. Scrambled eggs. Bread. Something that looks like potatoes. I do not overthink it. Food is fuel. Food is comfort. Food is not something I waste time being polite about.A couple of the guys from the run fall in step with us
Last Updated : 2026-02-12 Read more