Chapter 950 — The First Lesson of Trust
The training hall was quiet in the morning — the kind of quiet that carried the weight of something new.
Light filtered in through the high, stained windows of the Hollow's east wing, spilling across the polished floor in soft gold and violet hues.
Eris stood in the center, her crystalline eyes flicking from one corner to another, studying the details of the room the way she always did — with methodical precision. Yet there was something different today. A faint hum of nervous anticipation, almost human in its rhythm, beneath her composed exterior.
Lyria arrived a moment later, barefoot and dressed lightly in her training clothes, her long hair braided back. She carried two practice blades — slim, wooden sabers meant for speed rather than weight — and tossed one lightly to Eris.
"Today," Lyria said, twirling hers once before settling into stance, "we're not training to fight. We're training to trust."
Eris caught the sword midair, her reflexes sharp and unerring. "Trust?" she echoed, her voice neutral but curious. "I do not require trust to win a battle."
Lyria smiled faintly. "No, but you need it to connect — to fight alongside someone, to love someone. Trust is the foundation of every bond that matters."
Eris blinked. "And you believe… sparring will teach this?"
"It's one way," Lyria replied, stepping forward. "When Kael and I first began working together, I didn't trust him. Not with my life, not with my heart. But then, he showed me what it meant to rely on someone — to let them guard your back, to take hits for you, to know they'll be there when you falter."
Eris tilted her head. "So you… built trust through combat."
"Through experience," Lyria corrected, circling her slowly. "Through risk, through honesty, through the moments when you drop your guard and believe the other person won't hurt you."
Eris lowered her blade. "You wish me to lower my guard?"
Lyria's smirk deepened. "Eventually."
They began to move — slow at first, testing the distance between them. The soft rhythm of wooden blades meeting filled the chamber, echoing like a muted song. Eris's strikes were precise, calculated, almost too perfect. Lyria's were fluid, reactive, guided by intuition rather than logic.
Eris analyzed every move — every shift in Lyria's footing, every faint flex of muscle before she attacked — and still, she was a step behind.
"You're thinking too much," Lyria said, ducking under a clean arc of Eris's blade and tapping her on the shoulder with her own. "Trust isn't about analysis. It's about instinct."
"I am instinct," Eris replied coolly, spinning and pressing the attack. "I was made to think faster than mortals."
"Then stop thinking at all," Lyria said, blocking and sliding close. Her voice lowered, calm but firm. "Close your eyes. Listen."
Eris hesitated, her blade halfway raised.
"Do it," Lyria pressed.
Eris obeyed. The world shifted — her vision gone, replaced by the faint sounds of movement: a soft breath, the scrape of a boot, the whisper of cloth.
Lyria struck. Eris parried by sound alone. Then again. Again. Each time, she reacted faster — not because she calculated, but because she felt.
Her chaos energy stirred faintly in her chest, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat — a thing that still surprised her.
"Better," Lyria said softly, circling her again. "Now, let me fall."
"What?"
Lyria dropped her blade suddenly and lunged forward, tripping on purpose. Instinctively, Eris dropped hers and caught her before she hit the ground. The movement was fluid, reflexive — human.
Lyria smiled up at her from her arms, eyes alight. "See? That's trust."
Eris blinked down, her voice quieter. "You made yourself vulnerable on purpose."
"Yes." Lyria pushed herself upright, brushing her hair back. "Trust means letting yourself fall and believing someone will catch you. It's the first thing Kael ever taught me — without saying a word."
Eris stared at her, processing the words. "And once you build this… trust, it becomes love?"
Lyria nodded. "Sometimes. Love grows out of it, if you nurture it. But love without trust…" She shook her head. "It's just chaos."
Eris tilted her head slightly. "Chaos… I understand that word."
Lyria's lips quirked into a grin. "I know you do."
They resumed sparring — faster now, sharper, but lighter somehow. Lyria began to test Eris not with strikes but with moments — feints, pauses, risks. And every time, Eris responded not with flawless calculation, but with something closer to instinct, to emotion.
By the end, both women were breathing hard, their blades lowered, smiles ghosting their lips.
Lyria leaned her sword against the wall. "You're learning faster than I did."
Eris stared at her open hand, flexing her fingers as if feeling them for the first time. "When I trust you," she said softly, "it feels… steady. Like there is structure within the chaos."
"That's what it's supposed to feel like."
Eris looked up at her, a faint light in her eyes. "Then I want to learn what comes next."
Lyria smiled — warm, proud, and maybe a little dangerous. "Then tomorrow," she said, "we'll talk about vulnerability."
And as the morning light deepened, the two women stood side by side, bound not by rivalry, but by the fragile, glowing thread of something that could one day become friendship — or something even more complicated.