The morning air was crisp heavy with dew and the scent of pine that drifted lazily from the hills.
When Khael opened the old wooden door of their lodging, the hinges creaked softly, greeting the dawn.
The breeze kissed his face. It was cold, alive, the kind that made you remember you were still breathing.
He took a step outside, his eyes catching the faint shimmer of sweat glinting in the yard below.
There, beneath the fading stars, Juno was training.
His movements were sharp, deliberate every punch carving through the mist, every breath forming clouds in the pale light.
Khael said, his voice still half-drowsy,
"Juno…"
The boy stopped mid-swing, panting, wiping the sweat from his brow.
He turned, surprised but not startled.
"Khael, you're awake already?"
"It's so early…" Khael said, stretching slightly as his eyes followed Juno's rhythm. "Looks like you're practicing something."
