Private Tales Forge works.

[Davi]

Davi snorted.

"I suppose they give you water when you're done running now," water had been a reward for those who had been exceptional. Those like Edric or Sam. Zeph would have been in the gasping group at the back with Davi, driven to chewing on leaves in the hope to ring some sort of moisture from them to quell their parched throats. It was cruel to take out his own trauma on this girl who had things much easier than the horrors his class had seen, but perhaps one day she could see the cruelty for what he meant it: kindness. The world would never be kind to those who appeared weaker, Davi's job was to ensure she didn't.

Without another word he set off for the exit. He didn't bother looking at Thraah and Elias as their paths crossed one another, merely broke into a brisk jog as soon as his feet hit the grass beyond the cobbled castle path.

 

[Zephyrine]

Something registered in her face, but Zephyrine kept it a clean slate as she angled her head to the side. "I never ran with anyone." She trained separately from everyone else, kept away from forming bonds with her classmates since she was young. That meant no distractions, no foreign influences on her training. Zephyrine would have been the best weapon forged in the Academy if not for the outcome that saw an end to her driving force.

Zephyrine said nothing else in response to his words, and it seemed he thought the same. Nevarre took off, and she could only bless her reaction time was quick to follow. She kept more than five paces behind him, her thoughts turning to his words once again.

She knew how hard some Proctors had been before the Revolution, knew how they treated an Initiate if they had taken a shining to them. Zephyrine was too in her thoughts to notice they had run past Thraah and Dreadlord Sol.