The Academy gates opened at dawn for temporary leave, and students poured out in uneven clusters. Laughter rang through the courtyard. Groans followed close behind. Three days of dance training awaited them at their respective homes, a requirement disguised as a privilege.
Some students left buzzing with excitement.
Some dragged their feet.
A few looked genuinely terrified.
Aiden belonged to the last group.
He slumped into the carriage seat beside Elara, staring out the window as the Academy vanished behind them. "I still can't believe this is happening," he muttered. "A ball. Dancing. Public humiliation."
Elara folded her hands neatly in her lap, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You're overreacting. It won't be that bad."
"You say that," Aiden replied, glancing at her, "but you're not the one who nearly tripped over your own legs during practice."
She coughed and looked away. "Mistakes happen."
"That does not help."
Elara nudged him with her elbow. "Relax. Your mother is teaching us. We're safe."
Aiden groaned. "That's the problem. She's good at everything. Which means she won't stop until we're good too."
The carriage slowed and came to a stop before a modest, well kept house surrounded by tall trees. No grand estate. No intimidating gates. Just home.
The door barely opened before Marielle Varian stepped out, warmth written across her face.
"Aiden. Elara. Welcome back."
"Hey, Mom," Aiden said, already bracing himself.
Elara bowed politely. Before she could speak, Marielle clapped her hands once.
"No wasting daylight. Training starts now."
Aiden stared. "We just arrived."
"No complaints," Marielle replied cheerfully, turning inside. "Both of you. Center of the room."
They exchanged a glance and obeyed.
"Aiden," Marielle said, "take Elara's hand."
He froze. "Uh."
She raised an eyebrow. "You act like this is new."
Elara giggled. Aiden's ears burned. He took her hand.
"Other hand on her waist. Elara, your hand on his shoulder."
Both stiffened as they followed the instructions.
"Good," Marielle said. "Now begin. Aiden, lead."
"Lead," he echoed. "I barely know how to stand."
"You won't learn by freezing."
He stepped forward.
Straight onto Elara's foot.
"Ouch."
"I'm sorry."
Marielle pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is going to be a long three days."
The first day unfolded like a slow disaster. Aiden moved as if his limbs belonged to someone else, stiff and overcorrecting every step. Elara, deadly precise in combat, somehow tripped over the simplest patterns.
At one point, they misstepped in perfect sync and crashed onto the floor.
Aiden stared at the ceiling. "I think we're getting worse."
Elara laughed, breathless. "Just a little."
Marielle shook her head, amused. "Hopeless. Both of you."
"Please tell me this gets easier," Aiden said.
"It does," she replied. "If you listen."
By evening, progress crept in. Their steps steadied. Their balance improved. Frustration faded into laughter. Under the warm glow of the lamps, Aiden caught himself smiling at Elara without realizing it.
Maybe this wouldn't be unbearable.
The next two days passed in a blur of repetition and correction. Marielle pushed them relentlessly, making them repeat steps until their movements flowed without thought.
Aiden struggled. Badly.
No matter how hard he tried, his footwork stayed rigid.
"Ow. Aiden," Elara winced, pulling her foot back. "Again."
"I know," he sighed. "I don't get how people make this look effortless."
"You're thinking too much," Marielle said. "Let your body follow the rhythm."
Elara smirked. "He always overthinks."
"I do not," Aiden protested, then stopped. He exhaled. "Okay. Again."
They resumed. Aiden focused on the beat instead of the steps. For a brief moment, everything clicked. Their movements aligned. Smooth. Natural.
Marielle smiled. "There."
Then Aiden hesitated.
His foot landed wrong. He nearly fell, only for Elara to grab his collar and steady him.
She raised a brow. "And you call yourself a swordsman?"
"Swords don't require rhythm."
"Maybe they should."
Marielle clapped. "Enough. We're done for tonight."
Later, Elara stepped outside for air. An hour passed before Aiden followed, restless and unable to sleep.
Moonlight spilled across the clearing.
Elara stood alone, moving with quiet grace. No structure. No counting. Just flow. Her silhouette glided through the silver light, every motion effortless.
Aiden watched, breath caught.
"So that's it," he murmured. "You don't fight the movement."
Elara noticed him and stopped. "Aiden?"
He stepped closer. "I finally understand why I keep messing up. I'm trying to control it."
She smiled softly and extended her hand. "Then stop controlling it."
He took her hand.
There was no music. No instruction. They moved under the moonlight, guided only by instinct. At first Elara led. Then Aiden stopped thinking.
A ripple spread beneath their feet.
Water rose, spiraling gently around them. Droplets caught the moonlight, glowing like stars.
Aiden felt it. His mana responded, not to command, but emotion.
Elara's eyes widened. "Aiden—"
He spun her lightly, drawing her close. Their faces hovered inches apart. Breath mingled. The world went silent.
Then realization struck.
They stepped back at the same time, faces burning. The water collapsed into a soft drizzle.
"I—" Aiden cleared his throat.
"W-We should go inside," Elara said.
From the doorway, Marielle watched them with a knowing smile before turning away.
Aiden still had a long way to go.
But for the first time, he understood what it meant to move with the flow.