Soulbound: Embers of Defiance

Chapter 19: A Change in Plans

The next few mornings all began the same way – a pre-dawn jog that stretched through the hidden paths of the forest cloaking our base. It was a brutal wake-up call, lungs burning and legs screaming their usual protest. But with each sunrise, the path seemed a little shorter, the air a little easier to breathe. Today, however, held the promise of something different, a change that thrummed with anticipation beneath my ribs.

Five days we'd spent with Caleb. Five days filled with the rhythmic whoosh of inhaled and exhaled air, of holding poses that pushed the limits of my flexibility until my muscles screamed, of finding stillness within the storm of anxieties that clawed at me. It had been frustrating, this focus on the seemingly mundane. Yet, as we stretched under the pre-dawn light, a silent respect bloomed inside of me. This wasn't just about physical prowess; it was about control, about harnessing our bodies and minds into a single, focused instrument.

Our jog ended in a sweat-slicked heap near the outdoor training area. Caleb was already there, leaning against the weathered wall. But today, his gaze held a different glint – the glint of a challenge about to be laid bare.

Across the yard, Caleb barked out instructions. Gone was the gentle persona from the night before. Here, amidst his trainees, stood the hardened soldier, a mask of stoicism etched on his face.

A secret smile tugged at my lips. I couldn't blame him. He had to maintain his authority, appear the unyielding warrior. But the memory of his comforting hand, the vulnerability in his eyes when we spoke of my father, still lingered.

"Alright, soldiers," he rasped, his voice rough from sleep but his posture radiating an undeniable authority. "We've built the foundation. Now, let's learn how to fight on it."

The next hour was a blur of basic stances. The wide, stable guard for defense, the lunging advance for offense. The ground echoed with the rhythmic thud of our practice weapons as we fumbled through footwork, pivots, and blocks. Frustration gnawed at me. My movements felt clumsy, my attacks easily parried by Caleb's experienced maneuvers. But with each failed attempt, a flicker of determination ignited within me. I wouldn't let him down, wouldn't let myself down. Every grunt of exertion, every stumble and recovery, felt like a piece of the puzzle falling into place.

We clashed, wood on wood, the clang echoing through the training yard. Sweat trickled down my temples, blurring my vision as I lunged at Kass. But just as I felt the momentum building for a powerful strike, Caleb's voice boomed across the yard.

"Hold!" he roared, his voice sharp like a whip. Both Kass and I stumbled back, panting for breath.

Caleb strode towards us, his face grim. He stopped in front of me, his gaze fixed on my sword hand.

"Kira," he said, his voice low, "what are you doing?"

Shame burned in my cheeks. "Trying to attack," I mumbled, feeling foolish.

He snorted. "And how successful are you being?"

I gritted my teeth. Not very, considering Kass had easily parried every attempt with minimal effort.

Caleb gestured to my sword hand. "Leading with your hand is a recipe for disaster. An opponent worth their salt will disarm you faster than you can blink."

He pointed towards Kass. "See that smug look on her face? That's because your hand is a giant target begging to be smacked."

A wave of frustration washed over me. I was trying my best, and it still wasn't good enough.

Caleb, sensing my dejection, softened his tone. "Look," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "your instincts are good. You're aggressive, which is important. But aggression needs to be coupled with tactics."