# The Second Summoning

The training yard behind the castle was a mess of churned earth, scattered straw dummies, and the occasional scorch mark from Fenyr's overenthusiastic punches. Matt lay flat on his back, chest heaving, while the evening sky faded from orange to deep violet. His muscles screamed. Every muscle.

"You're getting slower, Master," Lyfa said, standing over him with a cup of water and a perfectly pressed towel despite having just sparred with him for two hours. Her maid uniform didn't even have a wrinkle.

"Or you're getting faster," Matt wheezed, accepting the water. "It's a conspiracy."

From nearby, Fenyr laughed and cracked her neck. "Nah, you're just mortal. Cute, though."

The rest of the group was scattered around the yard. Alice sat on a wooden bench, channeling a faint golden glow into Abigail's shoulder where a ugly scar still remained from the demon attack three weeks ago. Abigail winced but smiled, waving Matt off when he glanced over with that familiar guilty expression.

"Stop it," Abigail called out. "I can feel you brooding from here."

"I'm not brooding," Matt lied.

Yuki drifted over, her bare feet leaving frost on the grass. She settled beside him without a word, her cool presence soothing his overheated skin. Her white eyes regarded him calmly. "Your guilt is exhausting, Matthew. She is healed. We all have our roles—mine is to freeze things, Abigail's is to be impulsive, and yours is to lead."

"Impulsive?" Abigail sputtered. "I saved his life!"

"You jumped in front of a demon's blade without a plan," Henos said from the shadows of a pillar, oiling one of her knives. "I'd call that impulsive. Very cool, though. Got you a scar you can brag about."

Abigail flushed and mumbled something about "at least I didn't get killed again."

Matt pushed himself up onto his elbows. A month. It had only been a month, and yet these women had become his entire world. He remembered that first week, the terror and exhilaration of leading them against the demon scouting party. He remembered holding Abigail as Alice worked frantically to close the wound, the blood everywhere, his hands shaking. He'd never felt so useless.

That night, after Alice had stabilized Abigail and promised she'd recover, Matt had found the castle bathhouse. He'd stripped off his blood-stained clothes …