The days after the audience passed in a blur of training.
The castle had assigned Kofi quarters in the knights' barracks, far grander than anything he'd known at home. But there was no time to marvel. Each morning, Darius dragged him to the training grounds before sunrise.
"Again," Darius barked, as Kofi's sword swing wobbled.
Kofi's shoulders ached, sweat dripping into his eyes. "I am swinging!"
"You're flailing," Darius snapped. He stepped forward and adjusted Kofi's stance, forcing his knees wider. "Strength doesn't matter if you can't control the blade. Again."
Kofi gritted his teeth and swung. Once. Twice. A hundred times. His arms trembled, but he refused to stop. Each strike echoed like a promise in the morning air.
By midday, his muscles screamed. Yet when Lyra visited the training yard, she quietly placed a hand on his arm. Warmth flowed into his body, soothing the worst of the pain.
"You'll collapse if you keep this up," she murmured.
"I can't afford to stop," Kofi said, gripping the sword tighter. "Not with what we saw on the road."
Lyra's gaze softened, just a fraction. "…Then at least pace yourself. A dead hero saves no one."
Her concern left a warmth in his chest that no holy light could match.
—
That night, Kofi sat alone in the courtyard, staring at his hands. He tried focusing, willing the strange warmth in his chest to rise. Slowly, light flickered across his skin — weak, unsteady sparks that danced like fireflies before fading.
Holy energy…
He clenched his fists. It wasn't enough. Against the beast, against the cultists — he had relied on luck, on Darius, on Lyra. He needed this power to answer him.
"Frustrated?" Darius's voice came from behind. The knight approached, arms folded. "You're pushing too hard. Power comes with time."
"I don't have time," Kofi muttered. "Every day, the enemy grows stronger. And something worse is out there—I can feel it."
Darius studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "Then we'll push you harder. Tomorrow, we spar."
Kofi blinked. "Spar? With you?"
A small grin tugged at Darius's mouth. "Don't expect to win. But maybe you'll learn what it means to fight like a knight."
—
The next morning, word reached the castle of another threat: an outpost on the eastern border had gone silent. No survivors. No bodies. Just feathers, black as night, scattered across the ground.
Kofi felt the blood drain from his face when he heard.
The bird had struck again.
And the kingdom was preparing to send him straight into its path.