Walking down the halls of a building she’d dreamt up one day, and written so much about, next to a handsome man she knew nearly everything about but had only just met, Rachael tried to wrap her mind around how all of this had happened. The simple explanation was that she’d lost her mind a few days ago and only thought she’d created Silverwood. Was it possible it had always existed, and she knew about it subconsciously from her grandparents telling her stories when she was younger? That didn’t make sense, though, because she knew about events that had transpired recently--like Chell’s death. There was simply no explanation for any of it, and yet here she was, strolling along the corridors, past classrooms she’d created, to a gym she’d carefully crafted over three years of writing training scenes. Graham talked the whole time as if she didn’t already know every single inch of this building like the back of her hand.

In the hallway, Rachael had seen a few students, but no one she recognized. All of the professors she was familiar with were either in their classrooms teaching or in their offices seeing students, she imagined. The gym was a different story, however, and as Graham pushed open one side of the double doors, Rachael tried not to gawk at faces she never thought she’d see with her own eyes.

The trainers--some of them minor characters, but still important--were busy taking students through their paces. There were six trainers altogether, two for each group of students, though they each had more than one group throughout the day. She tried not to stare at the four of them who were working with students now, all of them instantly recognizable

“Those are four of our trainers,” Graham said, leading her inside a bit further but still out of the way of the students and their coaches so they wouldn’t be distracted. “These students are in the Upper Spring group, which will graduate soon, and that's Upper Fall. They’ll graduate at the end of the summer semester.”

“Right,” Rachael said, remembering he had mentioned how the three semester groups worked while they were in the hallway. She’d be in the Lower Summer group if she started in June as Graham expressed that he hoped she would. There were always six groups because it was a two year program with three semesters. When the next summer group started, in a year, she’d be Upper Summer. Hearing him explain it was a little confusing, and she imagined someone who hadn’t come up with the process could be slightly lost, but she was with him. She tried to think of a question a new person would ask. “And the training session lasts an hour and a half?”

“Yes, but it’s blocked as two hours so that students can change and shower before they have to go to their next class, if they have one.”

She nodded. The students were paired up and working on hand-to-hand combat skills. Rachael watched for a moment, her eyes wide as she noted how fast they were. It was one thing to write about a battle scene where hunters and vampires were moving three or four times faster than humanly possible; it was quite something else to see it in person.

“We will teach you how to do that,” Graham assured her, standing to her left with his arms folded.

Thinking about her current level of physical fitness, that statement seemed absolutely impossible, but so was everything else she was looking at, so she may as well believe it.

Graham continued. “That tall woman with the short black hair is Marcy Star. She will be one of your trainers, along with the blond gentleman whose arms look like tree trunks. That’s Flint Tork.”

Rachael bit back a smile. Hearing the fictional names she’d thought up for these characters applied to real people seemed a little silly now. Who was named Flint Tork? That guy, apparently, she thought to herself. “And who are the other two trainers?” She already knew the answer but thought she should do the normal thing and ask.

“The petite brunette is Sammi Knight. I know she looks tiny and innocent, but she could crush a person’s skull with her bare hands if she wanted.”

If it made him uncomfortable to talk about his dead fiancee’s sister, it wasn’t noticeable. Sammi looked over at Rachael briefly, and the writer smiled at her, but true to form, the assassin glared and shifted her gaze back to her students. It was almost as if she knew Rachael had been the one responsible for Chell’s death. Or maybe Rachael was just being paranoid.

“And that’s Ty Hanes,” Graham concluded. “He’s one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. Unless you’re a vampire.”

Rachael giggled politely and gave her attention to the muscular man at the other end of the gym. He was shouting encouraging words to some of his students that were falling behind, their sparring partners landing kicks and punches that could’ve been deadly in a match with a vampire. They were wearing padding now, the lightweight kind Rachael had dreamt up to keep them safe in practice, but some of them still looked pained. Ty, who was almost as tall as Graham with defined biceps and dark, smooth skin, cheered his students on, his motivational words inspiring some of the weaker ones to keep going. In contrast, to his left, Sammi was shouting threats and insults. Seemed about right, Rachael thought. She was thankful she’d be with Marcy and Flint, at least for now. They were both middle of the road--not too strict, not overly encouraging either.

“I know this looks dangerous, but they are all wearing lightweight protective gear. It helps cushion the blow. We don’t wear it in combat because it wouldn’t just protect us, it would make our attack on the vampires less effective as well, but when both combatants are wearing it, the material absorbs much of the transfer of energy so that no one gets hurt.”

“That’s amazing,” Rachael said, as if he hadn’t just used the words she’d written for him to say to every prospective student. “It does look dangerous, and I can’t imagine I’ll ever be able to do that, but I’m looking forward to giving it a try.” Her eyes wandered over to the various training weapons hanging on the wall and the doors that she knew led out to the simulators. The idea that this was actually reality was starting to take precedence over finding out how it was possible.

Graham was grinning like a used car salesman who had a buyer on his hook. “I think you’ll catch on pretty quickly."

A matching smile pulled up the corners of her mouth as she looked up at him, knowing he meant that and wasn’t just saying it because he wanted her to stay in order to fill a quota. “Thanks,” she said. “I hope so.”

He held her gaze for a moment before clearing his throat and lightly punching her in the bicep, like they were ol’ pals. “Come on. I’ll show you the dormitory.”

As much fun as it was watching the sparring, Rachael was excited to see if the dorms looked as inviting in real life as they had in her head. Glancing back across the gym, she briefly caught Sammi’s eyes and saw that the woman was glaring at her again. Rachael took a deep breath and let it go. She knew Sammi was angsty, but it almost seemed like she had something against Rachael, and the trainer didn’t even know who she was--did she?

Rachael followed Graham out the door, wondering if she should ask him what was up with Sammi or just pretend she hadn’t noticed. Whatever it was, she prayed it didn’t turn out to be problematic. She had enough drama in her life at the moment and didn’t need any more.