Page 1 – Alone in the Training Yard
The clang of wood striking air rang across the empty training yard, sharp and hollow against the evening stillness. Kael Ardent's arms trembled with the weight of exhaustion, but he forced them upward again. His grip slipped on the wooden hilt, raw from hours of repetition, but he gritted his teeth and swung downward with all his strength.
The blade cut through nothing but silence.
It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Kael's breaths came ragged, his chest heaving as sweat dripped into his eyes. His shirt clung to him, damp and stained with dirt, but he ignored the discomfort. All that mattered was the next swing. Then the next. And the one after that. If he stopped, he would hear their laughter again—the jeers of classmates who called him the weakest swordsman in the academy.
He struck again, wood snapping through the air. His shoulders screamed in protest. His vision blurred, but he didn't stop. The courtyard stones beneath his feet grew slick with his sweat, yet his resolve remained solid.
He remembered his father's words—cold, cutting, impossible to forget. "A swordsman who cannot protect even himself is no son of mine."
The memory burned more than his muscles did.
"Again," he muttered under his breath, raising the sword once more. His voice was hoarse, but his determination was unshaken. The academy had already written him off as a failure. His clan had turned their backs on him. If he quit here, if he let the blade fall and never picked it up again, then maybe they would be right about him.
Kael wasn't ready to accept that. Not yet.
The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of fire. Alone in the fading light, Kael swung once more, chasing a strength that always seemed just out of reach.