Three years later…
The training courtyard of Ebonreach shimmered under a cold, colorless dawn. Mist wound between ancient pillars like serpents of breathless silence. The sharp clash of wooden blades echoed in steady rhythm—each strike a heartbeat in the morning gloom.
Quinn, now eight, moved with lean, wiry precision. Years of relentless training had shaped him into a fighter—quick on his feet, unyielding in his stance. But across from him stood someone who could not be outpaced.
Sofia, thirteen, stood barefoot in the center of the stone ring. Her golden braid swayed gently, and her violet eyes shimmered faintly with power. She was the storm. And she didn't need to prove it.
She moved first.
A burst of kinetic force flared beneath her feet. In the blink of an eye, she closed the distance—her strike disarming Quinn with brutal efficiency. His blade went spinning. A moment later, he hit the mat hard, breath torn from his lungs.
"S-Sofia…!" he gasped, blinking through the fog of impact.
She stood over him, still and composed. "Get up," she said softly.
He groaned, scrambled to his feet. His blade trembled in his grip. He lunged low, fast, aiming to catch her off-guard.
She vanished—reappeared behind him like a whisper.
Her leg swept under him. He went down again, harder this time.
"Too slow," she murmured, stepping close and kneeling beside him.
He stayed on his back, panting. "I thought you were holding back."
"I am," she said gently. "But you're not fighting me, Quinn. You're fighting your limits."
He turned his face away, voice low. "I don't have a Gift. I can't catch up to you."
Sofia placed her hand over his heart, fingers warm against his chest. Her voice softened to a near whisper.
"That's exactly why you're strong," she said. "You're fighting without shortcuts. Every step you take, you earn."
He swallowed hard. "But I still can't beat you."
"You're not meant to. Not yet." Her expression softened. "I use my Gift because the world won't go easy on you. If you want to stand beside me... you need to feel the weight of that."
Their eyes met—hers glowing, his steady and storm-grey.
He gave a small nod.
Sofia stood. Aether flickered along her arms. The courtyard quaked with quiet warning.
"Again," she said, but this time, it was almost kind.