"Thought you might want to try something new," Talren said, tossing one of the swords to Kaelith. It landed in his hands with a solid heft, heavier than he'd expected. "Fists are fine, but a blade's a different beast."
Kaelith gripped the hilt, his small fingers curling awkwardly around it. In his past life as Kazu, he'd never held a sword—only imagined it in idle fantasies of heroism. Now, standing before Talren, he felt a strange mix of nerves and curiosity. "I've never used one before," he admitted.
Talren nodded, not surprised. "Then we start simple. Balance first." He planted his feet wide, knees bent, and raised his sword in a steady grip. "Like this. Keep your weight centered."
Kaelith mimicked the stance, his legs wobbling slightly before he found his footing. Talren stepped closer, adjusting Kaelith's grip with a firm but gentle hand. "Looser here—let the blade move with you, not against you."
They began with basic swings, Talren demonstrating each motion with the ease of a man who'd spent years with a sword in hand. Kaelith followed, his strikes clumsy at first, the blade tipping off-balance. But Talren was patient, correcting him with quiet grunts and nods. "Better. Again."
The rhythm built slowly—swing, step, adjust. Kaelith's arms burned, but he pressed on, each motion smoother than the last. From the edge of the yard, Veyra watched, her dark hair pulled back, her presence a silent thread weaving through the moment. She didn't speak, but her faint smile carried weight—a sign that the family, fractured as it was, might still mend.
After an hour, Talren lowered his sword, wiping sweat from his brow. "Not bad, lad. You've got a knack for it."
Kaelith's chest swelled, a warmth spreading through him. "Thanks, Dad." The word slipped out naturally, surprising them both. Talren's eyes softened, a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or hope—crossing his face.
"We'll make a swordsman of you yet," he said, clapping Kaelith on the shoulder. The gesture was brief, but it lingered in Kaelith's mind—a small bridge over the chasm between them.
Later that day, Kaelith found himself trailing Lirien through Talsara's winding streets. The village buzzed with life—vendors hawking bread and smoked fish, children darting between carts—but Lirien's pace was brisk, her usual chatter subdued. She'd invited him to her home, a rare offer that piqued his curiosity. He adjusted the strap of his satchel, his mind still turning over the morning's lesson with Talren.
Her house sat on the village's edge, a modest cottage with a sagging thatched roof and a garden choked with wildflowers. The door creaked open as they approached, a faint cough rasping from within. Lirien's shoulders tensed, her fiery energy dimming. "Wait here," she said, but Kaelith followed her inside, drawn by the pull of something unspoken.
The air inside was thick with the scent of herbs and a faint tang of sickness. In the corner, a man lay on a cot, his frame thin and frail beneath a patched blanket. Lirien's father, Toren. Kaelith had glimpsed him before, always upright and stern, but now he was a ghost of that man—his face pale, his eyes sunken.
"Da," Lirien said, kneeling beside him. "I brought Kaelith."
Toren's gaze shifted, a weak smile tugging at his cracked lips. "The mage boy. Heard you're teaching my girl some tricks."
Kaelith nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "She's a quick learner, sir."
A cough rattled Toren's chest, and he winced. "Good. She needs… strength. After her mother…" His voice faded, pain etching lines deeper into his face.
Lirien stood abruptly, her jaw tight. "I'll get your medicine." She vanished into a side room, leaving Kaelith alone with Toren.
"She's all I've got left," Toren rasped, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Her mother—bandits took her, years back. I tried to fight, but…" He raised his right arm, revealing a scarred stump where his hand should have been. "Lost my sword arm. Couldn't protect them after that."
Kaelith's throat tightened, the weight of Toren's words sinking into him. The image of Lirien—fierce, unyielding—shifted in his mind. Her fire wasn't just spirit; it was forged in loss, tempered by a need to shield what remained. He understood that drive, carried it himself in the echoes of Kazu's lonely life.
When Lirien returned with a steaming cup, Kaelith slipped outside, giving them space. The wildflowers swayed in the breeze, their beauty stark against the cottage's decay. He leaned against the wall, Toren's story settling like a stone in his chest. Lirien's strength made sense now—her punches, her grit, her refusal to back down. She was fighting for more than herself.
The next afternoon, the clearing beyond Talsara buzzed with energy. Kaelith stood in the center, flanked by Talren and Lirien, the twin suns blazing overhead. Talren had proposed a challenge: two against one, a test of Kaelith's growing skills and Lirien's raw talent. The prospect thrilled him, a chance to blend magic and combat in a way he'd only begun to explore.
"Think you can handle us, lad?" Talren asked, a glint of mischief in his eye as he hefted his practice sword.
Kaelith smirked, confidence bubbling up. "Bring it on."
Lirien bounced on her toes, fists raised, her grin fierce. "Don't hold back, Talren."
Talren chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it."
They circled him, moving in tandem—a seasoned fighter and a scrappy brawler. Kaelith took a deep breath, grounding himself. He'd need to be smart, use his magic to offset their physical edge. Talren struck first, a sweeping swing aimed at Kaelith's side. He dodged, chanting quickly: "Ignis spherus!" A small fireball flared to life, streaking toward Talren, who deflected it with his sword, the flames scattering into sparks.
"Nice try," Talren grunted, closing the gap.
Lirien darted in from the left, her fist aimed at Kaelith's ribs. He twisted, blocking with his forearm, but her speed caught him—a second punch grazed his shoulder. He stumbled, and Talren pressed the advantage, his sword arcing low. Kaelith leaped back, words tumbling from his lips: "Flame Cloak!" Fire erupted around him, a shimmering veil that pulsed with heat. Talren's blade met the flames, sizzling but holding firm.
Lirien froze, eyes wide. "Whoa."
Kaelith grinned, the spell steady. "Not bad, huh?"
Talren nodded, a flicker of approval in his gaze. "Blending magic and combat—smart. Dirty fighting, some'd call it."
"Sometimes, you have to," Kaelith said, adrenaline surging.
The sparring intensified, Talren and Lirien coordinating their attacks. Kaelith wove spells into his movements—fireballs to distract, gusts of wind to unbalance. Lirien nearly landed a kick, but he countered with a burst of air, sending her sprawling with a laugh. "That's cheating!" she protested, scrambling up.