His father bent down and patted Solvane gently on the head, a loving smile crossing his face. But Solvane noticed something strange—his mother looked tense, almost fearful.
His father straightened and turned to her.
"Ayana, we need to talk."
"I know," she replied softly. She kissed Solvane's forehead, her touch lingering as if reluctant to let go, then followed her husband out of the room.
That was the last time Solvane ever saw his mother.
---
The night wore on. Solvane stayed on the balcony, staring down at the Yellow Aspers celebrating below until his eyes grew heavy. Eventually, he fell asleep under the twin suns' fading glow.
"What are you doing sleeping when you should be training?!"
A roar jolted him awake. Solvane blinked to find his trainer standing over him, arms crossed and scowling.
"Disciple greets Master," Solvane muttered quickly, bowing with respect.
"Enough of that," the man snapped. "Be at the training grounds in fifteen minutes."
"Yes, sir."
The trainer—General Fog, former commander of the Yellow Asper armies—turned sharply and left. Solvane let out a long sigh.
"No rest for me, huh…?" He muttered, stretching his sore limbs. His thoughts drifted back to the night before. What did Mom need to talk to Dad about? A small smile crossed his face. Maybe I'm going to have a baby brother.
Chuckling at the thought, he dressed quickly, strapping on his sleek white armor trimmed with gold, sword at his side. He arrived at the training ground where General Fog waited, standing tall with a soldier's arrogance.
They exchanged no words. Words weren't needed—only steel.
The clash began.
General Fog charged, his strikes precise and merciless. Solvane met him head-on, quick and nimble for his age, but he was no match for a veteran. A blow sent him sprawling, but he pushed himself back up, determination flashing in his eyes.
Again, they clashed. Again, Solvane fell. This time his footwork faltered, and General Fog's strike broke his nose. Blood poured as pain blurred his vision. The general froze, panic flashing across his face. He knew too well the punishment that would fall on him if the prince was harmed.
But to his shock, Solvane forced himself up. His body trembled, his nose bleeding, yet he gripped his sword tightly and raised it once more.
"Lesson is done for today," Fog said quickly. "We'll continue tomorrow—"
"No!" Solvane shouted, his voice raw. "I still want to fight. I still need to fight. If I can't even defeat you… how can I protect her when she needs me? Tell me how!"
For the first time in two years of training, General Fog saw it—the fire in the boy's eyes. Not childish pride, but a fierce, unyielding determination.
A slow smile tugged at his lips. "You'd better mean that, boy."
Their blades clashed again, sparks scattering under the training ground's lamps.
---
Hours later, Solvane lay in his bed, his nose bandaged, most injuries already healed thanks to his Golden bloodline. Only a faint mark remained.
He stared at the ceiling in silence… until a sudden scream shattered the night outside his room.