As promised, I met up with Bracken on the training grounds to go over the basics of sword work. His grip was firm but needed adjusting, his stance a work in progress, his movements tentative but earnest.

I moved with precision, guiding his grip and footwork with patient gestures. He adjusted—loosening his hold, shifting his stance. He swung again—still learning, but improving. I deflected with ease, my movements fluid, efficient.

For an hour, I drilled him steadily. His strikes were careful, his balance still unsteady, but he showed persistence. Sweat clung to his clothes, his arms trembling from exhaustion, but he pressed on.

I stepped back, arms crossed. This was just the beginning, but beginnings mattered. I gave a small nod, allowing myself the smallest flicker of approval before motioning for him to continue.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

 We had been out on foot patrol when it began. The full moon lit our path, but something felt wrong. Reality warped at the edges, filling my senses with illusions. Shadows stretched too far, whispers curled at my ears, and the ground twisted beneath my boots. It gnawed at my mind, dredging up old doubts, half-forgotten fears. I hadn’t been the only one. Whatever plagued us that night, it had been cruel and precise in its torment. But that had only been the beginning. The void creature struck without warning, sliding into reality like a knife through flesh. No face, no form I could fully comprehend—just a writhing absence of light and warmth. When it touched me, I nearly collapsed. It wanted my Light. It had tried before, and this time, I was certain it would succeed. The sheer wrongness of its presence scraped against my mind, burrowing deep. The whispers slithered through my thoughts, insidious, relentless. You are weak. You do not deserve it. It is ours to take. I shou...
Read more
  She couldn't sleep. The pain in her wrist gnawed at her, sharp and insistent, a reminder of her own foolishness. Why had she slammed it against the floor? What had possessed her? Something had. The pain in her gut had been worse—like a thousand bee stings, like fire in her veins, like something inside her clawing to get out. It had dropped her to her knees, wracked her body with violent tremors. She had sobbed. Her tears had run red, Tyrell had seen. That had been real. It had to be real. But the candles—their sudden extinction, the suffocating dark—that had been a trick of the mind. Hadn’t it? She squeezed her eyes shut. Trying to feel that stillness she had discovered a few scant days ago.The Light no longer hummed beneath her ribs. It was silent now. Something else wasn’t. It slithered through the edges of her mind, weightless, voiceless, just beyond reach. It had been inside her. Had left something behind. She couldn't name it. Couldn't push it away. It was there, and...
Read more
 I sat slumped against the ship’s railing, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in my hand, swaying slightly with the ship’s motion. The sea was restless, and so was I. An old soldier had sold me the bottle—heading home at the end of his tour. I tilted it back, letting the burn settle deep in my chest. A poor remedy for seasickness, but that wasn’t the only sickness gnawing at me. Sergeant Hale was dead. Not buried, not yet. His body lay wrapped below deck, shifting with the waves, waiting for Stormwind’s soil. Bandages covered the wounds, but it didn’t change what I’d seen. What I’d heard. The spiders had come fast. Too fast. Too many. Nesting deep in the mines, the kind that didn’t need webs to hunt—only speed, only venom, only claws clicking against stone. Some the size of dogs, some the size of damned horses. I could still hear their chittering. I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the bottle harder. One month. That’s how long I’d known him. Maybe a few days short of a mo...
Read more