The air in the Citadel's lower training yard crackled with heat.
Two figures circled each other in the half-light of morning — one cloaked in quiet confidence, the other in honed restraint.
Sirius Blake and Kael Arden had been sparring for hours.
Sweat dripped down their faces, steam rising from the magitek floor where mana sparked with every clash of their blades. Cor stood on the sidelines, arms folded, expression carved from stone.
"Again," he commanded.
They obeyed without hesitation.
Steel met steel. Sparks scattered like fireflies.
Sirius' movements were fluid — precise as a rhythm he no longer needed to think about. Kael's were sharp, economical, every step placed for deception. Together they formed a dance of violence and balance, neither yielding ground.
Kael lunged, feinting low, his blade slicing upward in a perfect arc. Sirius blocked without even looking, their swords locking. The pressure between them shimmered in the air.
"You've gotten faster," Kael said through gritted teeth.
Sirius smirked. "You've gotten predictable."
Kael twisted, breaking the lock. His foot came up in a sudden kick — Sirius caught it with one arm, spun him, and drove forward. The impact threw Kael against the barrier wall.
Cor's voice rumbled. "Too much force, Blake."
Sirius exhaled. "He dodged into it."
Kael laughed breathlessly. "Don't defend your brutality."
Sirius extended a hand. "Then stand up and prove me wrong."
Kael took it. Their grips locked — firm, steady. The tension between them shifted, no longer rivalry but challenge.
---
By midday, both were exhausted. They sat on the steps beside the training yard, water bottles in hand, armor half undone. Zangan had passed by earlier, tossed them each an approving nod, and vanished muttering something about "young idiots built from stubborn steel."
Kael wiped sweat from his forehead. "You're still insane, you know that?"
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Because I don't lose?"
"Because you don't stop."
Sirius smiled faintly. "You don't either."
"Yeah, but at least I know when to rest."
"Do you?"
Kael chuckled. "Touché."
They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of magitek fields filling the background.
Then Kael said quietly, "You could've killed that daemon, couldn't you? Without nearly dying yourself."
Sirius froze, glancing sideways. "How do you—"
"Rumors spread fast," Kael said. "Especially when someone sneaks outside the barrier and gets carried back half-dead by patrols."
Sirius sighed. "You make it sound worse than it was."
"You were unconscious for a day."
"Fine. Mostly dead, then."
Kael snorted. "You're impossible."
Sirius smirked. "You're still talking to me."
Kael took a long drink, then said quietly, "Because I get it."
Sirius turned toward him, surprised. "You do?"
Kael nodded. "You're chasing something that scares you more than death. I see it every time you fight."
Sirius didn't answer.
Kael looked up at the barrier, the blue light flickering in his eyes. "My father used to tell me courage isn't the absence of fear — it's the decision to keep walking with it. You've got that in spades. I just wish you didn't wear it like armor all the time."
Sirius looked away. "Armor keeps you alive."
Kael shrugged. "Maybe. But it also keeps people out."
The words hung between them, quiet and sharp.
---
Their next match began that afternoon — unannounced, spontaneous, mutual.
Kael was first to move, his stance lower than usual, attacks heavier. Sirius met each strike head-on, no longer countering but matching. The rhythm between them shifted — from dominance to exchange, teacher to equal.
Cor watched from the railing above, silent but attentive.
Sirius' movements had changed since his recovery — smoother, instinctive. He no longer fought to win; he fought to understand. Kael mirrored him, learning through pressure, refining every angle.
Their blades locked again — but this time, neither pushed back.
Kael grinned through his teeth. "You're not holding back anymore."
Sirius met his gaze, eyes glowing faintly. "Neither are you."
The clash intensified — faster, sharper, every movement a test of trust as much as skill.
At one point, Kael feinted high and swept low — a maneuver he'd practiced in secret. Sirius countered perfectly, blade sliding along his opponent's with a sound like singing steel.
The exchange ended in stalemate, both blades crossing at each other's throats.
Cor's voice echoed. "Enough."
They froze.
Then Kael laughed — not mockery, but exhilaration. "We tied."
Sirius sheathed his blade with a faint smile. "For now."
Cor approached, eyeing them both. "That's enough arrogance for one day. You're both improving — but you've still got too much pride."
"Part of the job," Kael muttered.
Cor ignored him. "Blake, you adapt faster than the human body should. Arden, you learn faster than you should. Keep pushing each other. But don't mistake rivalry for isolation. The Guard isn't about glory."
Sirius and Kael nodded in unison.
Cor turned away, satisfied. "Good. Then maybe there's hope for the next generation yet."
---
That evening, they shared the tram ride home — something they'd never done before. The city glided beneath them, towers gleaming like pillars of light, magitek veins pulsing under glass walkways.
Kael leaned back, arms folded. "You ever wonder why Cor trains us so hard?"
Sirius nodded. "Because he knows what's coming."
Kael glanced at him. "You say that like you do, too."
Sirius looked out the window, watching the barrier shimmer. "I've seen what happens when light fails. I don't plan to let it happen again."
Kael frowned slightly, hearing something in his tone he couldn't quite name. But he didn't press.
Instead, he said, "You ever think about what you'll do when we're done with all this? When the training's over?"
Sirius thought for a long moment. "Keep training."
Kael laughed. "You're hopeless."
"Realistic."
"Same thing, apparently."
They both chuckled — and for the first time, the sound wasn't edged by competition.
---
When the tram stopped near Kael's district, he rose and shouldered his bag. "You know," he said, "for someone who doesn't talk much, you're not terrible company."
Sirius smirked. "Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment."
"Almost."
Kael stepped off the tram, then glanced back. "Next time we spar, no holding back."
Sirius nodded. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The tram doors closed.
As it glided away, Sirius watched Kael disappear into the streets — the rival who had slowly become something closer to a brother.
He looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. The faint hum of Resonance thrummed beneath his skin, steady as ever. But this time, it didn't feel like isolation. It felt like connection.
---
Later, when he reached home, Lyla was sitting by the window with a cup of tea. She smiled as he entered. "Long day?"
He nodded. "Worth it."
"Kael again?"
"How did you—"
She smirked. "You come home bruised but smiling. It's easy to guess."
He chuckled, sitting across from her. "He's good. Better than anyone I've fought."
"Then he'll make you stronger."
He nodded. "He already has."
She smiled, sipping her tea. "Then maybe you've found a friend who can keep up with you."
Sirius looked out the window, where the barrier glowed like a living horizon. "Maybe."
But deep down, he knew it was more than that.
Rivals challenged you.
Friends stood beside you.
Brothers followed you into the dark.
And one day, when the darkness came, Kael would be there — not as an opponent, but as a shadow fighting at his side.