"The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power."
In their desperate battle to survive the harsh aristocracy, the desire...
It had been a week since you began training with Hyunjin, and although you hated every moment of it, it was a routine you eased into quickly.
Maybe a bit too quickly than you'd like to admit.
The Sōrsānt was an insufferable bastard, but you appreciated the challenge he presented to you. All your previous duels paled when compared to those with him. It was as if you'd finally found a worthy opponent.
That morning started like the rest. You stood in the sand square and dragged your Kizāri through as Hyunjin mimicked you. The soft clink of metal sounded when the two weapons met, and you raised your fist to your shoulder.
Just then, the doors groaned open, and you heard her approach before you turned to see her.
Shrouded in the finest black, the Ērmār's presence in the training court made the air quiver. You caught the glint of a Kizāri behind the silver glow of her hair and your eyes widened unwisely.
There could only be one reason for that Kizāri.
Immediately, you retracted your weapon and bowed to her, beginning to retrace your steps toward the door at the opposite end of the court when her voice boomed behind you, "Stay."
You froze at her command, trying to calm the panic rising in your throat as you stood still near the door. Your thoughts pounded against your sanity. She suspects you. This is it. She's here to end it all.
You were a fool to think your plan would ever work.
Hyunjin glared at his mother as she stepped into the square of sand, undoubtedly displeased by her order for you to stay. She stopped at the spot where you stood moments ago and pulled out her Kizāri, letting it meet his on the ground. Her tone was gravelly demand, unaffected by the irritation in his gaze. "I want to see your progress."
Hyunjin didn't answer her, and you could see the clench of his jaw as he bit back any protest he had. A breath too long later, he relented, touching his fist to his shoulder briefly before he swept his Kizāri across the sand in front of him.
You observed them from the side, not bothering to mask your expressions anymore. You didn't know whether to be afraid, excited, or baffled by the dangerous duel before you.
A visit from the Ērmār never had pleasant results, and your fear was all-encompassing. The last time you'd seen her, she was watching as her son spared your life when he shouldn't have. She wouldn't forget, you knew. Eventually, she would decide to finish what Hyunjin couldn't.
At the same time, you couldn't drown the thrill pumping in your blood. You'd heard much about the Ērmār's mastery of Azāri, but you'd never seen her fight. Not until that moment. And you could easily see where Hyunjin earned his fighting style.
The Ērmār was him, except quicker and deadlier. She moved as if she had mapped all his steps beforehand and expected them. He was a puppet in her hands, forced to counter, counter, counter, and never given a second chance to attack.
The Ērmār's age didn't seem to give Hyunjin an advantage either. She was a dagger that always landed true, an ancient willow swaying with the wind of the fight.
Then, there was your faint surprise to see the way Hyunjin bent to his mother's will without so little as an objection. Somehow, you knew what the Ērmār was doing. By letting you watch, she was pushing his humiliation further. It was a twisted play of power that you unfortunately understood. Weakness was a sin, after all.
The duel didn't last long. Hyunjin held up against the Ērmār's unfaltering blows impeccably, but one could only defend for so long before an opening showed itself.
And the Ērmār was a keenly perceptive lady.
In a blink, her Kizāri swung skillfully, disarming him successfully and hurtling toward his side. She turned the weapon and its flat side slammed into him, throwing him off balance and sending him to the ground. A puff of dust floated around Hyunjin's fallen figure, and you grimaced before you could think any better of it.
The Ērmār stood over her son's body, pristine and undisturbed after their abrupt duel. Her tone was enough to make flowers wilt. "And I didn't even need my magic to best you."
Hyunjin was still sprawled on his side, and you found yourself urging him silently. Get up. Get up, you absolute buffoon.
As if he could hear you, he pushed himself to his feet, fighting back a wince as he met his mother's withering gaze. Sand was powdering the side of his face and chalking his dark hair, but that didn't seem to bother him. The words left his lips quietly, seething, "You say this, but my father bested you without—"
"Your father was too incompetent to keep himself alive. Do you wish to compare yourself to him?" she snapped, suffocating whatever flame of courage he had kindled for himself at that moment.
He lowered his eyes, squeezing his fists and dropping his shoulders, truly defeated. "No, mother."
The Ērmār didn't grace him with a response, simply looking him over with a disappointed click of her tongue before she turned and left. Only when the doors echoed shut behind her did Hyunjin lift his gaze, letting it crash on you instantly. A maelstrom of anger and humiliation.
He picked up his Kizāri and stalked in your direction. You opened your mouth to speak, but he only shoved past you, wordlessly pushing the door open and disappearing into the palace.
You had sworn to never feel sorry for the Sōrsānt. But at that moment, standing alone in his training court, your heart broke the vow of your better judgement.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
