"That's not how you do it,"
A woman's voice said. Calm and firm. No frustration. Just certainty.
She stood with arms crossed, her training clothes marked with faint burns—proof of long days and longer nights. Her dark hair was pulled back, but loose strands framed her face, softening the intensity in her deep brown eyes. She didn't look angry. Just focused.
Ash clenched his fists. Fire danced at his fingertips, shaky and thin. It wouldn't listen. It never did. He stared at his hands, willing them to respond.
"Like this?" he asked, barely above a whisper. The flame cracked, then vanished.
She didn't speak.
He tried again. The fire sparked, then flickered out. His fingers curled tighter. His shoulders locked. His chest tightened.
"Kael keeps getting stronger, but I'm still stuck like this."
His voice cracked.
The fire answered him—wild, broken, mirroring the pressure inside. It sparked again, then died in silence.
Before the weight could drag him down, she stepped in. Her arms wrapped around him—not soft, not hesitant. Solid. Steady.
"You'll get there," she said into his ear.
Her hand moved through his damp hair, brushing the frustration away.
"Kael's different. Even Maxwell is still figuring things out. But you…"
She leaned back, tilted his chin up. His eyes met hers.
"You're the son of 'Flame'—the strongest person in the world."
His breathing eased. He wiped his face with his sleeve, but doubt still sat behind his eyes.
She smiled. Not the kind that fades fast. The kind that knew.
"You have something no one else does."
He frowned.
"What?"
She grinned wider.
"Me, of course."
He blinked.
She turned, reached behind her, and brought out a sword. The blade caught the light, clear and sharp. It shimmered like a path.
"I'm going to train you with this." She held it out.
"A fire user with a sword? You won't just surpass Kael. You'll surpass your father."
He stared at it. The moment stretched. Then his hand moved.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt.
It felt right.
The fire sparked again. Brighter. Firmer.
He tightened his grip. A grin broke through.
"Yeah! Let's do it!"
————
"Ash?"
The voice pulled at him. Faint at first. Then closer.
"Ash!"
He blinked. The memory slipped away, fading like mist.
His hands curled a little. Heat lingered where the fire had once danced.
"Ash!" Max again, clearer this time.
He breathed out. Turned his head a little.
"Mm?"
The room came back. The TV's light moved across the walls. Shadows shifted. Their father's voice filled the space, rough and full of worry.
"Ash, are you okay?"
His fingers twitched. He opened his mouth, but the words sat too heavy to move. Then came a breath—quiet, careful.
"Yeah… I just…"
He looked down.
"I was thinking about Mom."
Silence followed.
Thick. Still. Unspoken things hanging in the air like smoke that wouldn't rise.
Across the room, Kael shifted. His arms crossed. His jaw set tight.
"Why do you have to ruin the mood, Ash?"
Ash flinched. The words hit, not hard, but sharp. Like sparks against skin. He lowered his gaze. The memory of warmth faded, replaced by the cold edge of Kael's voice.
"That's enough, Kael."
Their father didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The weight in his tone made Kael's shoulders lock.
Kael scoffed under his breath, then stayed quiet.
The silence returned. Thicker and Heavier.
Their father's voice broke through again. Softer this time, like he was carrying something breakable.
"I know it's hard. Your mother… she gave us everything she had. She wanted us to be strong. To take care of each other."
Ash's throat tightened. He swallowed, but it didn't help.
"She always knew how to make me feel better."
His father looked at him, something gentle in his eyes.
"She loved you. All of you. And that love doesn't just vanish. It stays. In you. In your choices. In your strength."
Ash's hands tensed, then loosened. His chest eased a little. Air moved in, slow and steady.
On the couch, Max sat still. His voice came low, quiet.
"Mom always made the impossible seem possible."
Ash looked down. His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.
"Yeah… she did."
Their father nodded. His eyes didn't move.
"That blade you carry—it was hers. She fought with it. Lived with it. She trusted it. And now it's yours. That strength? That love? It didn't end with her."
Something lit inside Ash's chest. A spark that didn't fade this time. His fingers curled around the edge of his shirt, holding on to something that couldn't be seen.
'She gave me this strength. I have to carry it right. For her.'
"Thanks, Dad." His voice came clear now.
No shake. No cracks.
The silence that followed didn't press down anymore. It sat with them. Still and Steady.
It felt warm.
It felt like her.
And Ash knew—he wasn't alone. Not really.
The cave's stillness cracked open with a sharp metallic ring. The sound raced along the rock walls, cutting through the low hum of the TV screen like a blade.
Kael's hand twitched. His eyes locked on the monitor.
"What's going on?"
The static buzzed for a beat, then Selene's voice cut through—tight and fast.
"Sir, headquarters is requesting immediate contact."
Their father breathed out through his nose, slow.
"Alright, give me a sec, guys."
The screen blinked off. Darkness swallowed his image. Only a faint V stayed behind, pulsing against the cave's dim light.
No one spoke. Somewhere deep in the tunnels, water dripped, steady and slow.
Ash's fingers tightened around the hilt at his side. The silence stretched like something waiting to snap.
"What do you think it is?"
Max leaned back, arms behind his head. His mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
"Feels like our first mission."
Kael rolled his shoulders, tension bleeding into every motion.
"Finally." His hands moved like they missed the feeling of impact.
"My body was getting stiff."
Max tilted his head at him.
"Didn't you and Ash just fight?"
Kael didn't look his way.
"That? That wasn't a fight."
Ash looked at the ground, jaw tight.
'Well, I guess he's right. He wasn't even going all out… But I had him.'
His thumb ran slow along the edge of his blade. The metal met skin where old grooves still lived. He could still see it—every step of that match. Every dodge. Every clash. Every second Kael stayed a step ahead.
'He's a prodigy. And I'm just stuck. A loser still trying to catch up.'