The field had gone silent.
With the spectators dismissed and the smoke gone, the once-chaotic training ground felt too open, too still. It wasn't victory or defeat that lingered now—just the tension of unsaid things. Luke stood with one hand resting on his hip, the other still twitching occasionally, like his fingers weren't sure if the fight was over. Commander Alec stood a few paces away, gaze locked somewhere on the dirt between them.
No swords.
No spells.
Just silence.
It should've been awkward, but oddly… it wasn't.
They weren't men who had come to blows out of hatred. No. This wasn't that kind of story. This was about something deeper—something unresolved.
After a moment, Commander Alec finally exhaled through his nose, the kind of breath that carried weight. He turned slightly, enough to catch Luke's eyes without needing to face him fully.
