Cursed By Fate

The sword of the cursed

Chapter 5: The Sword of the Cursed

The next morning, Aria rose early, just as the Academy’s bells rang through the crisp air. She had been told to report to the training grounds where all students were required to learn the art of swordsmanship—a discipline she was already well-versed in, thanks to her father’s friend. Her fingers brushed the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist, a familiar weight that gave her a sense of purpose.

As she made her way to the grounds, she noticed groups of students, some already sparring, others talking and laughing. But just like before, their conversations halted as she approached, and their eyes followed her with a mix of wariness and curiosity. Aria ignored them, her cold indifference her greatest shield.

The training grounds were vast, with rows of dummies, weapon racks, and practice arenas. At the center stood the Academy’s swordsmanship instructor, Master Kaelan—a man in his forties with a muscular build, a scar running down his cheek, and eyes that seemed to pierce through any façade. He was known for being strict but fair, and his reputation as one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom preceded him.

"Gather around!" Master Kaelan's booming voice called, commanding immediate respect from the students. Aria stood at the back, observing as he demonstrated basic stances and techniques to the newcomers. She noticed how many struggled to hold their swords properly, their movements awkward and unrefined. The privileged students, so confident in their magical abilities, looked out of place here.

"Form a line!" Kaelan ordered, and the students hastily complied. Aria found herself standing next to the fiery-haired girl from the previous day, who cast her a sideways glance but said nothing.

Kaelan walked down the line, inspecting each student. When he reached Aria, his gaze lingered on her sword. "That’s not Academy-issued," he said with a raised eyebrow.

Aria met his gaze calmly. "It was my father’s."

Kaelan gave her a sharp nod of acknowledgment. "You’ll spar first. Let’s see if you can handle yourself."

A murmur spread through the crowd. Everyone turned to watch as Aria stepped forward into the center of the training ring. Her opponent, a tall boy with sandy hair and an arrogant smirk, stepped up as well, clearly underestimating her.

"Don’t go easy on her," someone from the crowd called out.

The boy chuckled and drew his sword. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

Kaelan raised his hand. "Begin!"

The boy lunged at Aria without hesitation, his sword aiming for a quick strike. But Aria was faster. Her body moved with fluid precision, dodging his attack effortlessly. In a blur of motion, she parried his blade, knocking it aside, and countered with a swift strike to his chest. The force sent him stumbling backward, gasping for breath.

The crowd went silent.

Aria stood still, her sword at her side, her expression unchanged. She hadn’t broken a sweat, nor had she shown any hint of emotion during the fight.

Kaelan stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Impressive," he said. "Who taught you?"

"My father’s friend, before he became a general," Aria answered, her voice calm.

Kaelan nodded again, clearly intrigued. "You’ll continue sparring with the advanced students tomorrow."

The fiery-haired girl from before watched with narrowed eyes, clearly annoyed by Aria’s easy victory. As the crowd dispersed, the whispers began again, but this time, they were filled with something more than fear—respect.

---

Meanwhile, in the palace, the two princes sat in a meeting with their father, King Thorne. The discussion had been about political alliances, but Prince Kael, the youngest and most flirtatious of the brothers, seemed distracted. His thoughts kept drifting back to the Academy, where rumors of a girl chosen by three cursed gods had reached even the palace walls.

"Are you listening, Kael?" King Thorne’s voice cut through his reverie.

Kael grinned sheepishly. "Of course, Father. Just thinking about all the new recruits at the Academy. You know, keeping an eye on the future generation."

Prince Ryker, seated beside him, scoffed quietly. "Flirting with the recruits, more like."

Kael’s grin widened. "Why not? You never know, brother. One of them might catch my eye."

Kael, with his playful smile and golden hair, was known for being the charming, easygoing prince. He had been chosen by two extraordinary gods—one of light and one of wisdom. His powers made him revered across the kingdom, but unlike his elder brother, Kael had a reputation for kindness and flirtation rather than ruthlessness.

Ryker, on the other hand, was a stark contrast. His raven-black hair, sharp features, and cold demeanor struck fear into anyone who dared approach him. He had been chosen by three gods—gods of war, darkness, and vengeance. His strength was unparalleled, and his heart, many whispered, was as cold as ice. Ryker cared little for the Academy, or the people there. His focus was always on the kingdom and maintaining the power of the royal family.

"I’ve heard rumors about one of the students," Ryker said, his voice low and measured. "The girl chosen by the cursed gods."

Kael raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. "Oh? And what do you think of her, brother?"

Ryker’s gaze darkened. "I think she’ll either be a powerful asset… or a dangerous threat."