Cough… cough…
The rasping sound of the old man's lungs tore through the calm of the courtyard.
The sky was awash with crimson, as if the horizon itself were burning. The sun dipped low, painting the walls of the small house in hues of fire. Against this backdrop, the crack and thud of wooden swords echoed like drums of war.
Kaelin's chest heaved, his throat dry, sweat rolling down his cheeks and stinging his eyes. His tiny hands clenched the wooden blade until his knuckles turned white. Every strike from his grandfather rattled through his arms, the vibrations biting into his bones.
He refused to yield.
The two clashed again. The old man's strikes were merciless, yet his eyes were steady, watchful—not of an enemy, but of a boy he loved.
Kaelin stumbled back, gasping for air, but the fire in his young eyes refused to fade.
Then—without warning—the grandfather lunged. His movements blurred, so swift that Kaelin's heart lurched in his chest. The whoosh of air from the old man's sword grazed Kaelin's ear.
For an instant, fear rooted him in place. Then instinct surged.
Kaelin ducked low, the ground scraping his knees. His small frame slipped beneath the strike, his fingers locking around his grandfather's arm. He pulled with every ounce of strength in his body, twisting, driving his wooden blade toward the man's stomach.
Victory flashed in Kaelin's mind—
—but then came a sickening crack. The old man's body seemed to vanish, splitting into two phantoms, and in the blink of an eye, cold wood pressed against Kaelin's neck.
He froze. His body trembled.
His wide eyes screamed what his lips could barely form: Impossible.
Grandfather, with a quiet smile, voice deep but tender:
– Well done… You amaze me more every day.
Kaelin, his voice breaking, anger and humiliation tangled together:
– You cheated! That's not fair!
The smile faltered. Behind the old man's gaze lay a sorrow Kaelin was too young to understand.
– Listen, Kaelin…
But the boy bit down hard on his lip, turned, and ran, hot tears blurring his vision.
The old man's voice followed him:
– Come back quickly, if you want me to teach you that technique tomorrow!
Kaelin skidded to a stop, spun around. Joy replaced the storm on his face, his cheeks flushed with hope.
– Really?!
The old man sighed, then softened into a weary smile.
– Of course.
Kaelin beamed, laughter bursting out of him:
– Then I won't be late!
Another cough wracked the old man's chest, harsher this time. His hand lingered near his ribs.
– Is it… from that cold water I drank? – he murmured, though his voice carried a weight heavier than water could explain.
Kaelin waved without looking back, sprinting into the fading light. He almost collided with a tree and cursed loudly:
– Damn it!
The old man's expression collapsed into grief. His shoulders sagged, and he whispered to the empty yard, voice laden with guilt:
– Oh God… what am I supposed to do?
The sound of Kaelin's footsteps faded into the spring meadow.
He reached a barren tree, skeletal branches clawing at the twilight sky. From it hung a wooden log, bound by chains of iron, swaying gently like a watchful adversary.
Kaelin tightened his grip on his sword. Strike—dodge—spin. The log slammed back at him, each impact shaking his arms, forcing his body to move faster, sharper.
Sweat streamed down his temples, soaking his shirt, stinging his raw palms. With every swing, droplets flew into the air, catching the last orange light of the setting sun.
At last, he stopped. His chest rose and fell violently, his throat raw from panting.
He lifted his gaze to the darkening sky, where the first stars dared to pierce the twilight.
– That's enough… for today.
He jogged back home, legs heavy as stone. The path cut across a small stream, the cool water glinting like molten silver. Kaelin leapt from stone to stone, his balance wavering but never failing.
The houses of the village came into sight, and though exhaustion gnawed at his muscles, he pressed on until he reached the familiar doorway.
There was his grandfather, standing on a large woven mat, two cushions laid neatly before him. His face was pale, shadows deep under his eyes, as though the weight of years and worries pressed on him all at once.
The old man's voice was calm, though tired:
– You came just in time. Since you didn't delay… I'll teach you that technique tomorrow.
Kaelin frowned, disappointment flickering:
– Why not today?
The old man lowered his gaze, forcing a faint smile. His words carried something hidden, unspoken:
– Because I'm tired today, Kaelin.
Silence settled over them, three long seconds where only the rustle of leaves filled the air.
Finally, the grandfather raised his eyes skyward. His voice was soft, reverent, and filled with a quiet gravity:
– Now… let us begin our prayer to the Lord.