The pale morning light streamed in through the high windows of the private training room, filtered through enchanted glass that kept the temperature stable and the humidity away from the stone walls. The room was silent, except for the rhythmic, cutting sound of blades splitting the air.
Kael moved with precision. The sword in his right hand was real, sharp and heavy; the one in his left, a blade of pure shadow, undulating, as if it breathed with him. Every thrust, every twist, every block was accompanied by a second movement - as if a darker reflection echoed his every action, doubling the offense with a supernatural touch.
Sweat trickled down his temple, but his focus was absolute.
The shadow reacted to his will like an extension of his own body. He had practiced this for weeks, maybe months, but he still felt it wasn't enough.
"It's not enough just to be fast. It's not enough just to be strong."
"They outwitted me with intelligence. Strategy. Technique."
