The training grounds lay quiet in the early hours, the air cool and heavy with the faint scent of damp stone. Aaren sat on the worn steps near the chamber's edge, his sword resting across his knees. The polished steel reflected his face — tired, drawn, and unsettled.
It wasn't the drills or the sparring that weighed on him this morning.
It was her.
Mina's face had a way of intruding uninvited, stealing into the corners of his mind like sunlight slipping past a closed curtain. Every detail was sharp — the curve of her smile, the softness in her voice when she'd call his name, the quiet defiance in her eyes when the world had been cruel to him.
He could still remember the last time he saw her, standing in the pale glow of lantern light, wind pulling strands of hair across her cheek.
. And then she was gone.
Aaren tried to push it away, but the memories clung stubbornly, looping again and again until they drowned out the present. Even Lenara's cheerful voice in the distance sounded muted, like he was underwater.
Then came the other faces — his friends, laughing in the school courtyard; his family gathered in the small kitchen, the faint smell of tea rising from the table.
They weren't here. None of them were here. And if he was honest with himself, the chance of seeing them again had grown impossibly small.
A hollow ache swelled in his chest.
He hated how it made him slow. In battle, hesitation meant death — but his heart didn't understand the difference between a blade and a memory.
Levitine's voice cut through the fog, sharp but not unkind.
"Your grip is too loose. Thoughts elsewhere again?"
Aaren didn't answer right away. He forced himself to stand, tightening his hands on the hilt. "Yeah," he muttered. "But I'm fine."
"No," Levitine said, stepping closer, "you're not fine. And until you stop lying to yourself, your sword will never strike true."
Something in those words pierced deeper than Aaren expected.
He wasn't here to mourn the life he lost. He was here to survive — and to make sure all the pain, all the loss, wasn't meaningless.
Slowly, he raised his sword, the weight familiar, grounding. He breathed in, letting the ache in his chest settle instead of fighting it. Mina's face was still there in his mind — but this time, he didn't try to push her away.
He carried her with him, as part of the reason he had to keep moving.
The next swing was cleaner, sharper. His footwork steadied.
Lenara appeared at the edge of the training circle, watching him with that knowing little smirk. "Looks like someone's waking up," she said.
Aaren exhaled, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.
"I'm done running from ghosts," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
And for the first time in days, the noise in his mind quieted.