WHEN STEEL REVEALS THE SOUL
The sound of steel slicing through the air was the first thing to break the silence. Kyrahna moved with a speed that almost blurred her silhouette; the edge of her curved sword grazed the air in front of Ryvak, who ducked just in time, feeling a strand of his hair slowly fall to the ground.
Dust rose in waves, mingling with the morning sun that filtered its light through the branches, forming golden beams that seemed to dance among the combatants. Caelithra breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of a focused mind. Every fiber of her being was prepared. She saw not enemies before her, but an opportunity to test something she couldn't explain: her strength, her control, and her silent desire not to lose anyone else.
"Ryvak, cover my right flank," he said in a firm voice, without taking his eyes off Tzarelle, who was twirling his short sword between his fingers, waiting for the exact moment to spring into action.
Ryvak barely smiled, that warrior's smile that had learned to relish danger. "As you wish, but if she attacks first, I can't promise to hold back."
"Just make sure you don't break any of his bones," Caelithra replied without looking at him, and Ryvak let out a short, husky laugh.
Tzarelle stepped forward, moving with an almost feline grace. The way her hair fluttered and her gaze searched for weaknesses spoke of cold precision.
"Always so calculating, Caelithra," Tzarelle said, offering a serene smile. "Even in something as simple as training, you can't help but look like a strategist. Do you ever allow yourself to enjoy what you're doing?"
Caelithra raised her spear and pointed the blade at herself. "I enjoy winning. I enjoy learning. I enjoy being alive."
That response made Kyrahna let out a low, defiant laugh. "That sounds exactly like something Zyrion would say."
The name landed like a subtle blow, one that hurt more inside than out. Caelithra gripped the hilt of her spear and didn't reply. Her mind didn't want to reopen that wound, not then. Not in front of everyone.
The wind rustled through the trees, and the scent of damp earth and cut leaves filled the air. Ryvak seized the moment and advanced, a direct thrust toward Kyrahna. She moved backward, the blade of her sword grazing his, and the metallic clang echoed across the clearing like a war cry.
"Nice try," Kyrahna murmured, twisting her wrist and forcing the blade down with a motion that nearly knocked Ryvak off his balance.
"I'm just warming up," he replied, and their swords clashed again, sending up tiny sparks.
Meanwhile, Caelithra lunged toward Tzarelle. The spear sliced through the air in an elegant arc, a fluid movement that spoke of years of training and discipline. Tzarelle blocked with her sword, the blow sending her stumbling back a few steps, her feet dragging on the dry earth.
"Your precision is admirable," Tzarelle gasped, her gaze unwavering. "But your gaze... your gaze isn't here, Caelitra. You're elsewhere."
Caelithra spun around, propelling the spear toward her opponent with a clean spin. The impact echoed through the air and kicked up dust. "My gaze is where it needs to be," she replied.
Kyrahna stopped her conversation with Ryvak when she heard that and watched her out of the corner of her eye, with a mixture of interest and a hint of something more. "Liar," she said, with a barely perceptible smile. "You're still thinking about him, aren't you?"
For a moment, the fighting seemed to stop. Caelithra lowered her weapon slightly, her ragged breath mingling with the breeze. No one dared speak the name, but they all felt it hovering among them, a presence that could not be ignored.
Tzarelle was the first to move again, breaking the spell. She leaped sideways and charged swiftly, forcing Caelithra to react. Metal clashed once more, the echo of the impacts filling the forest.
The fight intensified. Ryvak retreated alongside Caelithra, and for a few seconds they shielded each other, their weapons spinning in perfect sync. The sand kicked up by their footsteps mingled with the sunlight, creating almost ethereal glimmers, as if each movement left luminous traces in the air.
"Good work, Caelithra," Ryvak murmured, sweat trickling down his forehead. "That last feint almost made me think you were going to cut right through her."
Caelithra breathed heavily, planting her spear in the ground for a moment. "I just needed her to let her guard down. But she didn't. They're good. Both of them."
Kyrahna lowered her sword and twirled it between her fingers, smiling with that air that was both defiance and admiration. "And you too. Though you may not want to admit it, fighting you reminds me of something I had forgotten: that even among allies, there are fires that can burn brighter than enemies."
"Is that a compliment or a threat?" Ryvak asked with a half-smile.
Kyrahna looked at him, her eyes gleaming with intensity. "It depends on whether you survive my next move."
Tzarelle laughed softly, and in an instant, she and Kyrahna charged together. Their swords clashed with a dizzying rhythm. Ryvak blocked a thrust that sent him reeling back several steps. Caelithra whirled swiftly, her spear grazing Tzarelle's shoulder, leaving a faint red line, but enough to mark the spot.
Cilera, watching from afar, raised her hand. "Point for Caelithra and Ryvak!"
The group erupted in murmurs. Some applauded, others simply exchanged knowing glances. The atmosphere, however, remained emotionally charged.
Caelithra lowered her spear, panting, sweat trickling down her neck. Kyrahna approached slowly, wiping the edge of her sword with a piece of cloth.
"You held back," he said in a serious tone.
"Yes," Caelithra replied, looking her straight in the eyes. "And so do you."
For a moment, the two women stood in silence, facing each other. There was no resentment, only respect, and behind that respect, something deeper: a mutual understanding of what it meant to fight not only with the body, but with the soul.
Ryvak sat on a nearby rock, calmly cleaning his sword. "If all the fights are going to be like this, I'm afraid we're going to need more breakfast."
Maerisse let out a laugh from the edge of the circle. "And more bandages."
The sun was high in the sky, and the forest seemed to breathe with them, as if the trees had enjoyed the spectacle as much as those present. But as laughter filled the air, Caelithra's eyes inevitably returned to the back of the camp. There, in the shade of an oak tree, Zyrion still slept. Motionless. Silent.
And within her, a thought pierced like an arrow:
"If he doesn't wake up soon... no victory will have any meaning."
The sun had already climbed high over the forest, bathing the training clearing in a golden light that filtered through the leaves. The air smelled of damp wood, sweat, and the latent energy of those still waiting their turn. Bodies rested, but eyes remained intense. There was laughter and conversation among the groups, but beneath that apparent calm, the tension of what was to come was palpable.
Kyrahna drank water from a vessel, the crystalline liquid trickling down her neck and disappearing beneath the fabric of her light armor. Beside her, Caelithra silently cleaned her spear with a damp cloth, her focus on the blade. Her movements were meticulous, almost ritualistic. Despite the surrounding noise, her mind remained fixed on something deeper: the weight of what she felt, what she couldn't say, what had remained unanswered since Zyrion's fall.
"You're still thinking about him, aren't you?" Kyrahna said softly, without taking her eyes off the water falling between her fingers.
Caelithra didn't answer immediately. The sunlight reflecting off her spear blade faded as she looked up. "I can't help it. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Every time I hear steel, I hear him breathe."
Kyrahna lowered her gaze, touching the edge of her sword with her fingertips. "I see it too, though I shouldn't. He made me promise I'd never be afraid of him again. But... how can you keep a promise like that when the fear already lives inside you?"
The silence between them grew thick, heavy with a sadness that not even the light of day could dispel.
A few steps away, Ryvak stretched out her arms, watching Karion and Ysmera prepare for the second round. Ysmera gripped her daggers tightly, her hair tied back, her breathing slow. It was the first time she had shown such a focused expression, so different from her usual serenity.
Karion, on the other hand, was in his most enigmatic mode. His cloak billowed in the breeze, and his dark, calm eyes seemed to see beyond the battle. Taliena watched him from a distance, seated on a stone, her hands clasped on her knees. There was something in her expression, an apparent calm that masked concern.
"Ready?" Cilera shouted from the center of the clearing, in his strong, authoritative voice.
Karion turned his head slightly toward Ysmera and said in a tone so low it was barely audible, "Don't hold back. If you do, I'll get bored."
Ysmera smiled slightly. "I don't plan to."
The second round began with a sharp crack. Ysmera was the first to move, her daggers slicing through the air with a high-pitched whistle. Karion dodged them with fluid, almost elegant movements, as if dancing between the attacks. Every step she took was calculated, every turn precise.
"Faster than I expected," he said with a calmness that irritated Ysmera.
She spun around and threw a dagger straight down at the ground in front of him, raising a cloud of dust to blind him. The trick worked, but only for an instant. When the cloud dissipated, Karion was gone.
"Where...?" Ysmera managed to say before feeling the edge of her sword against her neck, not touching her skin, just grazing it.
Karion was behind her, so close she could feel his breath. "If you had attacked the air, you would have found me. The enemy isn't always where you look."
She whirled around, trying to strike him, but he stepped aside, gently taking her wrist to immobilize her. The contact was quick, but it was enough for Ysmera to feel Karion's calm pulse, and something more: a coldness that didn't belong in a simple fight.
"Always so calculating," she said through gritted teeth. "Even your movements seem rehearsed."
Karion barely smiled. "Not rehearsed. Just inevitable."
From the edge of the field, Caelithra watched every movement. She knew that expression well on Karion: the expression of someone who ruled their mind before their body. But she also noticed something different, an invisible tension, as if he were hiding something.
Kyrahna crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed. "I don't like his silence. Karion never fights without speaking, and today he's far too quiet."
"He's doing it on purpose," Caelithra murmured. "He's testing something. Her... or himself."
The fight continued. Ysmera leaped back, seeking distance, and Karion advanced with a sudden burst of momentum. Their swords clashed in a swift sequence, an exchange of blows that left marks in the earth. Both were panting, sweating, but neither yielded.
Suddenly, Ysmera shoved him hard, spinning around and pressing her dagger to his side. "Now I've got you," she said, breathing heavily.
Karion lowered her gaze to the edge and, instead of stepping back, smiled. "If you really had me, you wouldn't say so."
With a deft twist, she broke free from his grip, took hold of her shoulder, and gently lowered her to the ground, pointing her sword at her without touching her. Ysmera's expression was one of surprise and anger, but also of respect.
Cilera raised her hand and shouted, "Point for Karion and Ysmera!"
Ryvak applauded from the edge of the room as Taliena stood up, wordless. There was something in her gaze that Caelithra didn't immediately understand, a concern hidden beneath that constant calm.
Karion helped Ysmera to her feet, offering her his hand. "You're better than you think," he said in a low, barely audible tone.
Ysmera took it, looking directly at him. "And you're more dangerous than you seem."
The atmosphere grew heavy again. The laughter died away. The sound of leaves rustling in the wind filled the clearing. The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warmer, orange light that bathed sweaty bodies and weary faces.
Caelithra stood up, feeling her heart still not quite calm. She gazed at the horizon. Somewhere beyond the forest, she knew that the bearers Miranth and Psyrion had already departed in search of that mysterious bearer who could change everything.
"When this is over," Kyrahna said, approaching her, "we need to talk to Zyrion. We can't keep fighting blindly anymore."
Caelithra nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the setting sun. "I know... but when I wake up, something tells me nothing will ever be the same."
Kyrahna looked at her silently, and for a moment, they both felt that weight in their chests. It wasn't just the exhaustion from the fight. It was the feeling that the very air was changing, as if fate were watching them from afar, waiting for the exact moment to reveal itself.
The forest fell silent. The last rays of daylight reflected off the weapons stuck in the ground, and the wind whispered through the leaves a message that no one fully understood, but that everyone felt: something big was about to happen.
And as the shadows lengthened over the village, Zyrion continued to sleep.
His breathing was calm, but within his dreams, the darkness stirred.
In some corner of his mind, a voice again uttered those words that haunted him from the abyss:
"I am the beginning of your end."
And the earth trembled gently, as if the world itself had heard.
The prophecy demanded silence before revelation.