The weight of Kael’s words still lingered in Lucian’s mind long after he left the commander’s quarters. And yet, despite this looming revelation, he had two weeks before his training under Tyra began.

  Lucian wandered the corridors of Emberfang Fortress, his boots echoing softly against the stone. For the first time since his arrival, he had nothing urgent to do—no mission, no battle, no command to follow. And yet, instead of feeling relief, unease sat heavy in his chest.

  He would be alone soon.

  Cut off from everything and everyone.

  That thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

  He found himself drifting toward the training grounds, where the clash of steel and the shouts of mercenaries rang through the crisp air. His instincts pulled him toward the familiar—a fight, a test, something to ground himself before the solitude of his upcoming trial.

  Lucian barely had time to scan the training grounds before a familiar voice called out to him.

  “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up.”

  Lucian turned to see Cedric approaching with his usual easygoing stride, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. Unlike most mercenaries in Emberfang, Cedric carried himself with an air of lightheartedness that made him stand out—a sharp contrast to the hardened warriors who stalked these grounds.

  Lucian offered a small nod. “Cedric.”

  Cedric crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve been gone for what—almost a month now? You just up and vanished without a word. Thought maybe you ran off to join a monastery or something.”

  Lucian huffed a quiet chuckle. “Not quite.”

  Cedric smirked. “Good, because I’d have to beat some sense into you if that were the case.” He studied Lucian for a moment before continuing. “So, where the hell did you go? All I’ve heard is rumors—something about you running around with Elara’s group, then disappearing into the wilds. Come on, fill me in.”

  Lucian hesitated. He couldn’t exactly explain everything—the Voidaris, and his encounter with Gildren. Instead, he kept it simple.

  “Commander Kael sent me on a mission,” he said. “It was… more difficult than expected.”

  Cedric whistled. “Well, you sure look different. When I first met you in the dining hall, you had that ‘lost pup’ look in your eyes. Now? You look like someone who’s seen some shit.”

  Lucian smirked faintly. “I’ve seen enough.”

  Lucian glanced around the training grounds. The clashing of steel, the distant shouts of mercenaries testing themselves—it was a reminder of how much he’d miss once he was isolated. He exhaled slowly, then turned back to Cedric.

  “Before that happens… would you be up for a spar?”

  Cedric blinked, then grinned. “Oh? You’re curious about my skills, huh?”

  Lucian gave a small nod. “Something like that.”

  Cedric chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Well, I’m never one to turn down a good fight. Alright, kid—let’s see if you’ve gotten any better since we last met.”

  Cedric rolled his shoulders, stepping into the sparring ring with the kind of confidence that came from years of experience. He stretched out his arms, shaking them loose as he grinned at Lucian.

  "Alright, kid, let’s see what you got."

  Lucian exhaled, rolling his neck before raising his hands into a loose but ready stance. He had spent so much time wielding a sword lately that the idea of a pure fistfight felt almost refreshing.

  Around them, mercenaries who had been training with weapons and drills began to take notice. A few of them muttered among themselves, intrigued by the sight of two of Emberfang’s younger fighters stepping into the ring.

  "Isn’t that Cedric?" one mercenary muttered.

  "Yeah, he’s decent. Quick on his feet."

  "And the other one?"

  "Lucian. New recruit, but I heard he went on some mission with Elara’s group."

  "Huh. Should be interesting."

  The quiet murmurs of the onlookers barely registered in Lucian’s mind. He was focused, locked in.

  Cedric made the first move.

  He dashed forward with a sharp right hook, his movements fast and fluid. Lucian sidestepped, letting Cedric’s fist cut through the air harmlessly before countering with a quick jab. Cedric twisted just in time, the strike grazing his shoulder instead of landing clean.

  "Not bad," Cedric said, smirking as he reset his stance. "But let’s see how you handle this."

  He launched into a barrage of strikes—quick, precise, and relentless. Cedric was fast, his footwork sharp as he weaved between movements, throwing hooks and jabs with calculated aggression.

  Lucian blocked the first few strikes, using his forearms to absorb the impact. But Cedric was pressing hard, keeping the pressure on with rapid combinations. Lucian pivoted, using subtle movements to deflect rather than absorb, waiting for an opening.

  Then he found one.

  Cedric overcommitted on a straight punch. Lucian shifted his weight and twisted, catching Cedric’s extended arm and using his momentum against him. With a sharp pivot, he yanked Cedric forward, off-balancing him, then slammed his elbow into Cedric’s ribs before pushing him back.

  Cedric stumbled slightly but recovered quickly, grinning through the brief pain. "Oh, you’re good," he admitted, shaking his arms out.

  Lucian didn’t respond. He had already moved in.

  This time, it was Lucian who pressed the attack. He struck with measured precision—each movement refined, calculated. A quick jab to test Cedric’s guard, a sharp hook to push him back, then a low sweeping kick to take his legs.

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  Cedric barely dodged the kick, leaping back just in time. "Damn," he muttered, shaking out his leg. "You’re tricky."

  Lucian didn’t let up. He dashed in again, forcing Cedric onto the defensive. Their movements became a blur—punches, counters, sidesteps.

  The crowd around them grew larger.

  "Shit, these kids are fast."

  "I thought Cedric would dominate, but look at that footwork on the new kid."

  "Lucian… he’s adapting mid-fight."

  Cedric heard the murmurs but ignored them, his focus locked onto Lucian. He wasn’t just dealing with raw talent—Lucian fought like someone who had been in real fights.

  Not just training spars. Real, brutal battles.

  Cedric clenched his jaw. He had been fighting since he was a kid, raised by mercenaries, trained by veterans. There was no way he was going to get shown up that easily.

  He shifted tactics.

  Instead of meeting Lucian head-on, he started to move more unpredictably, using feints to bait Lucian into reacting before striking at unexpected angles. It worked—at least for a while.

  He landed a solid hit to Lucian’s ribs, another to his shoulder. Lucian took the hits, rolling with the momentum, adjusting.

  Then, in an instant, he stopped reacting—he started predicting.

  Lucian saw Cedric’s next feint before it even happened. He stepped in just as Cedric went to bait him, cutting off his movement with an aggressive counterstrike. His fist slammed into Cedric’s gut, forcing the air from his lungs.

  Cedric staggered back. Lucian didn’t give him a chance to recover.

  He dashed forward, slipped past Cedric’s guard, and drove his knee into his opponent’s stomach before sweeping Cedric’s legs out from under him.

  Cedric hit the ground hard, gasping for breath.

  Silence.

  Then, murmurs spread through the gathered mercenaries.

  "Holy shit, the kid just put Cedric down."

  "That was clean. He read him like a book."

  "Lucian’s a monster in close combat."

  Cedric lay on the ground, panting. After a few moments, he let out a short chuckle and raised a hand in surrender. "Alright, alright. I give. You got me."

  Lucian took a step back, offering a hand. Cedric took it, letting Lucian pull him to his feet.

  "You're good," Cedric admitted, still catching his breath. "Really good."

  Lucian shrugged. "You’re not bad yourself."

  Cedric laughed. "Don’t sugarcoat it. You kicked my ass." He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. "But damn, I needed that. Been a while since I had a real challenge."

  Lucian nodded, wiping some sweat from his brow.

  "You fight like someone who’s been in real battles," Cedric observed, his tone shifting slightly. "Not just training. Real fights. Life-or-death ones."

  Lucian met his gaze, but said nothing.

  Cedric smirked. "Yeah. Thought so." He stretched his arms, glancing at the gathered mercenaries still watching them. "Well, congrats, kid. You just made a name for yourself in Emberfang."

  Lucian sighed. "That wasn’t my intention."

  Cedric grinned. "Doesn’t matter. You beat me, and now everyone’s talking."

  Lucian exhaled. He could already feel the eyes on him—the recognition, the intrigue. More attention wasn’t what he wanted, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to avoid it now.

  "Let’s get some water," Cedric said, throwing an arm around Lucian’s shoulder in a casual, friendly gesture. "If I’m gonna get my ass kicked, I at least deserve a drink afterward."

  Lucian let out a small, tired chuckle. "Fine."

  As they walked off the training grounds, the murmurs of the watching mercenaries continued.

  Lucian and Cedric made their way toward the barracks, weaving through the fortress halls with a comfortable silence settling between them. The midday sun hung high, casting golden light through the open walkways of Emberfang. Their sparring match had left them both drenched in sweat, and the promise of a drink was a welcome relief.

  The barracks weren’t as busy at this hour, with most mercenaries either training or resting. A few sat around, sharpening weapons, chatting, or playing dice. Cedric led them toward a shaded corner outside the main hall, where they grabbed a pair of water skins and dropped onto the ground with heavy sighs.

  Cedric tilted his head back, taking a deep gulp before exhaling in satisfaction. “Damn, that hit the spot.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at Lucian. “Not bad for a morning, huh?”

  Lucian took a drink himself, letting the cool water soothe his throat. “Could’ve gone worse,” he admitted.

  Cedric chuckled. “You saying that like I didn’t just get my ass handed to me.” He stretched his legs out in front of him, resting back against the wall. “Still, that was fun. I don’t get many fights that actually push me.”

  Lucian glanced at him. “You’re strong. Experienced.”

  Cedric huffed. “Strong, sure. Experienced?” He let out a dry laugh. “Not compared to some of the monsters in Emberfang. I’ve still got a ways to go.”

  Lucian nodded, taking another sip before speaking. “Why did you join Emberfang?”

  Cedric leaned his head back against the wall, eyes turning skyward as if considering the question. A small smirk played at his lips. “That’s a long story.”

  Lucian gave him a look that said I’ve got time.

  Cedric exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Well… I grew up in a border town. One of those places that gets hit by bandits every other month, and no one does a damn thing about it.” His voice was casual, but there was something beneath the surface—a bitterness that hadn’t faded. “My father was a guard, one of the few that actually cared about keeping the town safe. Tough bastard, taught me how to fight from a young age.”

  He paused for a moment before continuing. “Then, one day, the wrong group of bandits rolled through. Real nasty ones. My father fought to protect the town, and I did too, but—” He let out a small breath, shaking his head. “We lost. Badly.”

  Lucian remained silent, listening.

  Cedric’s expression darkened slightly. “I managed to survive, but my father didn’t. After that, there wasn’t much left for me there. So I left. Found my way into mercenary work. Figured if I got strong enough, maybe I could make sure something like that never happened again.” He smirked, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Real original, huh?”

  Lucian considered his words before responding. “Wanting to be strong isn’t a bad thing.”

  Cedric scoffed. “Yeah, well, it’s easy to say that. Harder to actually do it.” He shot Lucian a look. “What about you, then? You don’t exactly scream ‘mercenary.’”

  Lucian hesitated for a fraction of a second. He had already decided to filter the truth—no mention of the Scions, of Aldric’s secrets, of the power that lingered inside him.

  “I grew up in a church,” he said.

  Cedric blinked. “A church?”

  Lucian nodded. “I trained under someone who raised me. He taught me how to fight. How to survive.” He glanced at Cedric, gauging his reaction. “Then… things changed. And I ended up here.”

  Cedric hummed in thought. “So you’re a runaway priest?”

  Lucian almost laughed at that. “Not quite.”

  “Damn, that would’ve been a story.” Cedric shook his head with a grin. “Still, I can tell you’re different from the other recruits. You don’t just fight because you have to—you fight like it’s second nature. Like you’ve been doing it way longer than someone your age should.”

  Lucian didn’t answer. He simply looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slightly.

  Cedric exhaled. “Well, whatever your reason is, I won’t pry. But I will say this.” He nudged Lucian’s shoulder lightly. “Emberfang’s not a bad place. You watch each other’s backs, and people respect strength. You proved yourself today, kid. You’ll do fine here.”

  Lucian met his gaze, something unreadable passing between them.

  He wasn’t sure what fine meant for someone like him. But for now, in this moment, sitting in the quiet of Emberfang’s barracks with someone who wasn’t an enemy, wasn’t a teacher—just someone willing to talk—he felt something close to it.

  Cedric stretched his arms with a satisfied sigh, then pushed himself to his feet. He dusted off his trousers before glancing down at Lucian, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

  "Come on, kid." He extended a hand. "We’re about the same age, and this place ain’t exactly full of friendly faces. Might as well look out for each other, yeah?"

  Lucian blinked, staring at the offered hand for a moment.

  Cedric smirked. "That means you can trust me, like a brother." His tone was light, but there was sincerity behind it. "I’ll be behind you, no matter what."

  Lucian hesitated, Lucian wasn’t sure what having a brother felt like… but maybe this was close enough. He then reached out and took Cedric’s hand.

  Cedric pulled him up with ease, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder before stepping back.

  Lucian let out a quiet breath.

  It was… nice.

  For the first time, he had a friend.

  The thought settled something in his chest—a quiet, unfamiliar warmth.

  Lucian smiled, just slightly.

  "Yeah," he said. "Let’s look out for each other."