Kael

The training grounds were alive with the rhythmic clash of swords, the grunts of exertion, and the sharp commands of instructors drilling recruits into warriors. Dust swirled in the dry air as Kael adjusted his stance, gripping the hilt of his sword. It had been three weeks since Lord Lucian carried that broken girl through the palace doors, and the memory still lingered in Kael’s mind.

He hadn’t seen her since.

"Why do you even care?" He muttered to himself. She was just another recruit, nothing more. But deep down, he knew why. He had never seen Lord Lucian hold someone so tenderly as if she was a breakable object. He was curious, very curious.

His gaze landed on a figure standing at the edge of the training field, her posture tense and rigid. Her uniform—simple, functional, like the rest of them—hung loosely over her frame, as if she had not yet grown into it. But it wasn’t her awkward stance that caught his attention.

It was the scars.

Thin, jagged lines marred the skin of her arms, barely concealed beneath the sleeves she had pushed up to her elbows. Some were old, faded silver against her skin, while others were fresher, still pink and healing.

Kael narrowed his eyes. Could it be…?

He hadn’t seen her face properly that day, but something told him it was her.

The girl Lord Lucian saved. The girl he was just thinking about.

“Alright, recruits!” barked Commander Varik, striding into the center of the grounds. The murmuring of the trainees died instantly. “Today, we begin partner training. You will be grouped in twos—one to push you, one to catch you when you fall. You live together, fight together, and if necessary, die together.”

A few recruits shifted uncomfortably, but Kael simply exhaled, gripping his sword tighter. He had heard the speech before.

“We call this partnership The Twin Blade Bond,” Varik continued, pacing in front of them. “A warrior is only as strong as the one beside them. Whoever you choose would therefore be known as your Twin blade. The both of you would go into battles together, be there for each at all times, in battle or out of battle. A win for you is a win for your twin and a loss for you is a loss for your twin so choose wisely.

A murmur passed through the trainees as they began pairing off. Kael scanned the group, but before he could move, an instructor’s voice rang out.

“You.” A tall soldier pointed at Kael. “And you.” His finger shifted—to her.

Kael’s brows lifted slightly. Of all the recruits, they had put him with her?

He turned to his new partner, who had yet to meet his gaze.

“Well,” he said after a beat, shifting his sword to rest against his shoulder. “Looks like we’re stuck together.”

She didn’t reply.

Kael frowned. “Are you the girl Lord Lucian brought in a few weeks ago?”

The girl stiffened.

For a moment, he thought she would answer, but instead, she turned her head away, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Before he could push further, a soft voice whispered beside him.

“That’s how she’s been since she got here.”

Kael turned to see Mira, one of the other trainees. She had a sharp, knowing gaze and was often the first to learn any gossip that spread through the camp.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Mira continued under her breath. “No one’s even heard her say her own name.”

Kael glanced at his new partner again. Her expression was carefully blank, but there was something guarded in her posture, as if she expected the world to turn against her at any moment.

She wasn’t just avoiding conversation. She was keeping everyone at a distance.

Kael exhaled through his nose. “Alright, silent one,” he murmured. “Let’s see what you’ve got."

The training began with sparring. The goal was simple—disarm your opponent. Kael took his stance, watching as his partner hesitantly did the same.

She held her wooden training sword like it was a foreign object.

This is going to be a disaster.

Kael moved first, testing her reflexes. He swung at half speed, giving her time to react. She blocked—barely. His next strike, a simple feint, knocked her off balance.

She hit the ground with a grunt, her sword slipping from her grasp.

Kael sighed, offering his hand. “You need to—”

She slapped his hand away and pushed herself up.

Kael raised a brow. “Feisty.”

This time, she attacked first. The strike was clumsy, easy to parry, but there was something raw about it—something desperate. She moved with the instincts of someone who had fought before, but not with a blade.

A street fighter. Kael was very familiar with them. He was once like them.

She overextended. He dodged, stepping aside—

And then she lost her balance, stumbling straight into the path of another pair of sparring trainees. The boy she was about to crash into swung his training sword, not seeing her—

Kael moved without thinking.

He grabbed her wrist, yanking her back just as the wooden blade would have struck her ribs. She collided into him instead, the impact knocking the breath from both of them.

For the first time, she looked up at him.

Her eyes—sharp, wary, but undeniably alive—met his.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, in a whisper, she said, “Thank you.”

Kael blinked. He hadn't expected her voice to be that soft.

Before he could respond, she exhaled and looked away. “And… I’m sorry for being rude.”

Kael let out a breath of his own, stepping back. “I’ve been called worse.” He smirked. “So, do I get a name, or should I just keep calling you ‘silent one’?”

A pause.

Then, softly, she said, “Aeris.”

Kael tilted his head. “Aeris,” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. “Nice to meet you, Aeris.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“And,” she added, “yes… I’m the girl Lord Lucian brought in.”

Kael had figured as much, but hearing her confirm it sent a strange feeling through him.

Before he could say anything else, a hush fell over the training grounds.

Lord Lucian had arrived.

He strode into the training yard, his dark cloak flowing behind him. Every recruit straightened at once, their weapons lowered, their breaths held. His presence alone commanded silence.

He stopped before them, sweeping his gaze across the gathered warriors-in-training.

“For years,” he began, his voice calm yet sharp, “we have suffered at the hands of Veldros.”

Kael’s jaw tightened at the name. The Kingdom of Veldros—Arlindale’s sworn enemy, ruthless and unrelenting. They had been in conflict for as long as anyone could remember.

They were the reason he had no family.

“They have raided our villages, stolen our crops, and slaughtered our families,” Lucian continued, his voice darkening. “They think us weak. They think us broken.”

A murmur ran through the trainees, the weight of his words settling deep.

“But they are wrong.”

Lucian’s eyes burned as he surveyed them. “We do not bow. We do not break. And when we strike back, we do not hesitate.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

Lucian took a step forward. “You are no longer just recruits. You are the blade that will cut down our enemies. You are the shield that will protect this kingdom. You fight, not for yourselves, but for King Saran, for Arlindale, for vengeance.”

Aeris stood still beside Kael, her hands clenched into fists. He wondered what she was thinking—if she had ever fought for anything before.

Lucian’s gaze swept over them one final time.

“Prepare yourselves,” he said. “War is coming.”

Then, without another word, he turned and strode away.

Kael let out a slow breath, gripping his sword.

Aeris, beside him, remained silent.

But this time, Kael saw something different in her eyes.

Not just wariness. Not just hesitation.

Something sharper.

Something like fire.

Everyone on this training ground had a personal vendetta against the kingdom of Veldros. Either they had lost a family member to them or had something precious stolen away. The fire he saw in Aeris's eyes confirmed that she also had a bone to pick with the Veldrosians.

He wanted to know her story.