THE HEIR'S MATE

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Luna's glaive clashed against Elias's sword with a sharp clang, the force of their strike sending a brief spark into the night air. The clearing in Luna's secret part of the forest was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy above. The air was cool, carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp soil, a stark contrast to the intensity of their sparring.

Luna's weapon—a beautifully crafted glaive, blessed by the spirits of her ancestors—glinted in the moonlight as she spun gracefully, the blade slicing through the air with a whisper. Elias's sword, though simpler and unblessed, met her attacks with steady precision, his movements fluid and controlled. The sword was ordinary, chosen by Elias himself, he had never been granted the honor of wielding a blessed weapon.

They moved in a rhythmic dance of strikes and parries, their breaths coming in sync with the flow of their movements. Sweat beaded on Luna's brow as she launched another attack, her eyes narrowing with focused determination. Elias met her with equal intensity, his brown eyes locked onto hers, reading her movements even before she made them.

This night was supposed to be their time to unwind, a rare chance to enjoy each other's company without the looming pressure of training or challenges. Their training had ended earlier than expected, and while they had planned to relax, perhaps take a walk or share a quiet moment under the stars, Luna had found herself restless, her mind too clouded with thoughts to truly enjoy the night.

They had chosen Luna's favorite spot in the secret forest, a secluded clearing surrounded by towering trees and dense foliage. The area was special to her, a place where she often came to find peace and solitude. The ground beneath them was soft, covered in a thick layer of moss that muffled their footsteps, making their presence in the forest almost ethereal.

"You're really good," Luna admitted breathlessly as their weapons clashed again, the vibrations from the impact traveling up her arms. "How much did you use to train?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Elias nodded, his expression softening despite the intensity of their sparring. "I don't remember clearly... since I was 10 or 11 years old," he replied, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of nostalgia as he tried to recall the early days of his training. He adjusted his grip on the sword, his movements still deliberate, but there was a gentleness in the way he countered her strikes as if trying to let her vent whatever was troubling her without overwhelming her.

Luna nodded, her mind drifting momentarily as she imagined a young Elias, perhaps barely tall enough to wield a sword. The thought brought a small smile to her lips, the image of a determined little boy swinging a sword almost too adorable to bear. The distraction was enough to make her next strike a fraction slower, less precise.

Elias noticed the shift and raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he effortlessly deflected her strike. "What's on your mind?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice as he pressed forward with a light attack.

"Nothing," Luna lied, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She quickly recovered, spinning her glaive to block his advance. "Just picturing you as a kid, training with that same serious expression."

Elias chuckled, the sound warm and rich in the quiet of the forest. "If it wasn't for Finn, I wouldn't have wanted to train to fight," he said, stepping back to give her space, his eyes never leaving hers. "I was so jealous watching him and my father train almost every day."

He paused, a hint of nostalgia touching his features as he reflected on those early days. "I used to hate and resent him a lot," Elias admitted with a laugh, the memory now tinged with fondness. "Back then, I saw him as competition, someone who was always ahead of me in everything."