The Spark of Talent

The crowd erupted into cheers. Some whooped and hollered, praising Nyx like a champion. Others rushed toward Ron, calling for a healer. A few stood frozen, silent—stunned by what they’d just witnessed.

Luna stood in place, wide-eyed. She was shocked by the duel, yes—but more than that, she was impressed. The way they moved, the sheer intensity of it all... it left her breathless.

Nyx, wiping sweat from his brow, made his way toward her.

When he reached her, he knelt slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, a playful smirk on his face.

“You liked it, didn’t you?”

Luna opened her mouth to speak—but no words came out at first. Only air.

Finally, she found her voice.

“It was… impressive. You flew, he flew, you both clashed—and you won! Very impressive.”

As she spoke, she gestured wildly with her hands, mimicking the flurry of motion from the fight.

Nyx chuckled, a little embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck.

But Luna’s smile faded just a bit as she glanced past him. Her eyes fell on Ron, still lying near the shattered remains of the Old Oak, surrounded by worried onlookers and a pair of healers.

“But… what about the other guy?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“Is he okay?”

Nyx followed her gaze.

“Ah… Ron?” He paused, weighing his words.

“Yeah, he’ll be alright. I’ve left him in worse shape than this before.”

Luna gave a small nod, still clearly concerned, but accepting his answer.

Then she shook it off and smiled again.

“You were amazing! Seriously. I don’t even know what to say—you were so cool!”

Nyx glanced toward the crowd as it began to disperse, following Ron as he was carried away toward the infirmary.

He turned back to Luna. Her eyes were on him, filled with curiosity and something else—wonder.

He couldn't help himself.

“Wanna try it?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“The sword?”

Luna blinked, surprised.

“Can I?”

Nyx smiled, relieved by her reaction.

“Of course you can.” He stood up and offered his hand.

“Come on. Stand up.”

Luna took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. Together, they walked toward the center of the training ground—toward the spot where legends sparked to life.

Nyx walked toward the sword stands, scanning the rows until he found the smallest and lightest wooden blade. Without a word, he plucked it from the rack and tossed it toward Luna. It spun once in the air before stabbing into the ground just to her right with a solid thunk.

Luna blinked, glanced at the blade, then stepped over and pulled it free with ease. She turned to Nyx, brow raised.

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"What should I do next?"

Nyx approached slowly, crouching beside her with a calm, teacher’s precision. He reached out and gently took hold of her sword arm, straightening it with deliberate care.

"Keep this arm straight," he said. "You need structure if you're going to block or strike properly. If it folds when you’re hit—" he gave her a look "—you’re done."

He moved down to her stance, tapping her feet.

"Your legs—too close. Widen them."

He spread them himself, placing her in a firmer, grounded position.

"Stability. No matter how fast or strong your opponent is, if your base isn’t solid, you’ll fall."

Then, circling behind her, he adjusted her other arm, both hands now aligning the sword in front of her like a sculptor perfecting his work.

"There. This is the stance."

He stepped back, appraising.

"Just stay like that."

He moved to her right side, voice a little softer now.

"This form only works for my style of swordsmanship, just so you know. Other schools? Other postures. But for now—" he lowered himself to sit in the grass across from her "—try a vertical slash. Just straight down. Easy."

Luna’s heart thudded. She gripped the hilt tighter and drew a sharp breath.

She raised the sword high above her head—arms shaking, spine rigid—and for one suspended moment, the world felt utterly still.

Then—

SWISH!

She swung.

The blade ripped through the air with a fierce shriek, her feet sliding forward as the force pulled her into motion. Wind howled past her ears. The swing ended inches from the ground, kicking up a spray of dirt.

Her knees buckled slightly, her breath caught in her throat. Arms trembled.

And then—

She smiled. Wide, wild.

"That felt awesome… what’s next?"

Nyx stared at her. She couldn’t tell if he was stunned, impressed, or something else entirely.

"Horizontal slash," he said finally.

She nodded, repositioned her stance, and held the sword to her side. She inhaled deeply, locked her grip—and swung—

FWOOSH!

Too much weight. Too far. She tipped sideways, collapsing to her knees with a surprised gasp. She looked up, waiting for Nyx’s reaction.

He was frozen. One corner of his mouth twitched upward. A single bead of sweat slid down his cheek.

"Stand up," he said, grinning now. "Let’s try a diagonal. Top right to bottom left."

Luna nodded again, more determined this time.

She raised the sword over her shoulder into the top-right guard. Checked her stance. Planted her feet.

Deep breath.

Then—

SHWIP!

Nyx felt the air shift as she cut through it—sharp, precise, fast.

His eyes twitched. He blinked.

“How?”

The wind from her blade grazed his face.

He laughed suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle it.

"No way," he muttered.

Luna, panting now, cheeks flushed, looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“Did I do great?” she asked.

Nyx didn’t answer. Just stared—like she’d done the impossible.

“…Perfect,” he whispered.

He stood. Exclaimed.

"PERFECT!"

Luna dropped the sword, letting it fall softly to the ground. She wiped sweat from her brow, eyes narrowing with disbelief.

"Really?" she thought.

"What’s wrong with Nyx? Was it really that good?"

A sudden warmth tickled her upper lip. She touched it—blood.

A nosebleed.

She wiped it quickly, hoping Nyx hadn’t noticed.

Across from her, Nyx was still lost in his thoughts, eyes distant, whispering to himself.

Luna sat down in the grass across from him, looking at her hands. The sword had felt powerful—but not quite… whole.

"Was it really that great?" she thought. "I feel like something's still missing..."

She looked to Nyx. He was still quiet, unreadable.

So she waited.

Nyx looked at Luna, his eyes gleaming. Without thinking, he grabbed her arm, overcome with energy.

“You have so much potential,” he breathed, eyes wide, a sheen of sweat tracing the curve of his grin.

Then he blinked, catching himself. Quickly, he released her.

“Sorry,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I got… carried away.”

Luna smiled softly and let out a breath. “No need to apologize.”

Nyx rose to his feet. The wind seemed to rise with him, swirling around the training ground. His uniform fluttered with the gust, the fabric catching light like silver threads in motion.

He turned his back to her for a moment, facing the horizon—then looked back over his shoulder, expression serious.

“I need to inform my father.”

He faced her fully, hands adjusting the collar of his uniform, the smile returning—but this time, it was sharper. Determined.

“We’re sending you to Lorentheal.”

And with that, the wind howled louder, sweeping past them like fate itself had stirred.