Disclaimer: if you cannot tell my my various Max stories, if I owned any of this, Max would still be alive.

Chapter one

I hit the ground hard with a unsatisfying thump. The attic roof spun in and out of focus as I lay there. The white rope I fell from swings tauntingly in front of my face. So close, but so far.

"Next time, try staying on the rope." My trainer, Deen called down to me. "Now come on, climb it again."

I peel myself off the floor, adjusting my glasses so they sit right on my nose. My hair falls into my eyes, forcing me to push it back. Izzy had offered me one of her bobby pins, though I had kindly declined. Apparently, Alec had the same issue when he was in training. It must be oddly hereditary.

I focus on the braided rope swinging from the ceiling. I jumped up, stretching to reach the end above me. My fingers wrapped around the rope and I desperately held on. The rope is slick, like the skin of a snake might be. I pull myself up, fumbling for a new grip. My arms burn already, and I'm only just started.

"Use your feet! Max, your feet! Are you listening to me, Maxwell?" Deen shouted. I look down at him, and upon seeing the ground my fingers weaken a little. I start to slide down the rope. I fasten my fingers again, desperate .

I groaned and tried to hook my feet onto the rope. One hand over the other. Little by little, I pulled myself up. How in the angels name can Jace do this is five seconds? I gasped for air, digging deeper into my strength reservoir; I've just about hit it's bottom. The top was in reach. I tapped the little bell to signify the end of the climb. "Deen! I did it! What now?" I called down.

Deen looked at me from over the sword he was examining. "Jump!" He shouted, running his finger across the edge. I looked down, the floor stretching and winding beneath me. "But..."

"Just do it." Deen snapped. For a guy with what Izzy called 'the face of an angel' I was 95% sure Deen was born in Hell. I gulped, leaning back. I squeezed my eyes shut and peeled my fingers off the rope one by one.

My last pinkie fell without any help, and I was sailing down to the matted ground. The air rushed out of my when I belly flopped onto the hard surface of the training mats. My glasses were knocked aside, hopefully not broken.

"Max," Deen sounded disappointed. I dug my face into the mat. "You know how this works. You were supposed to land in a roll." He snapped at me. Even if it is my first day of training, and I'm only 13, Deen expects the best reflexes and survival instincts from me. I hate to disappoint him, but there is no way I can meet his looming expectations.

The clock on the wall strikes once. "One o'clock." Deen announces, "go get cleaned up for lunch." He tells me. I push myself off the mat and stagger toward the door. I can't see anything.

"Max." Deen is behind me again, placing something on my face. "You forgot your glasses." My vision clears suddenly. Deen must think I'm an idiot as well now. "You did a good job today, Max." He calls after me as I continue to my room.