Episode ----17
The night felt restless.
Lina lay awake long after the villa fell silent, the ghost of the sword's weight still burning in her arms. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ayan's face — shadowed, unreadable, but closer than it should have been. His breath on her cheek. His words, soft and sharp, threading into places she thought were long sealed.
"Tomorrow," he had said.
She wanted tomorrow more than she dared admit.
---
Morning came wrapped in low mist, the sky the color of old bruises. Lina rose before the first bell, pulling her coat tighter around her. Her heart beat quick, half in dread, half in something that felt like hope.
She crossed the courtyard, stone slick from the night's dew. The air smelled of rain and old iron.
Ayan was there, as if he'd been waiting. Sword at his side, hair damp from a brief wash, sleeves rolled to reveal scarred forearms. His gaze lifted, dark as wet stone, catching hers.
"You're early," he noted.
"So are you," she countered.
A flicker of amusement tugged at the edge of his mouth — gone almost before she could be sure it was real.
"Come," he said.
---
The lesson began without another word.
Lina felt yesterday's ache in every movement. The sword bit into her palms, the cold biting deeper than pain. Ayan guided her stance, corrected her grip — never quite touching longer than necessary, but never truly distant.
Sometimes his voice was low, almost gentle. Sometimes sharp, cutting through hesitation like the blade itself.
"Don't fight the steel," he murmured. "Let it move with you."
"It's heavy," she gasped between breaths.
"So is fear," he said. "And you carry that every day."
Her arms trembled, sweat beading on her brow. But she refused to drop the sword.
"Again," he ordered.
She lifted. Her shoulders screamed protest; her chest burned. But she lifted.
When the blade wavered, his hand shot out, steadying her wrist — warm, strong, scarred. For a heartbeat, the courtyard vanished, and there was only his breath, his closeness, the scent of steel and rain.
"Good," he whispered. "Better to shake than to quit."
---
Hours felt like minutes, stretched thin by exhaustion and stubborn will.
Finally, Ayan spoke. "Enough."
Lina lowered the blade, chest heaving. Her palms were raw, a blister beginning to form. Yet inside, something steadier had awakened — a steel that wasn't in her hands, but under her ribs.
Ayan took the sword from her grip, his thumb brushing over her scraped knuckles. The touch sent heat racing up her arm, confusing and undeniable.
"You learn fast," he said, voice low.
"Or maybe I'm just desperate," she breathed.
"Desperation teaches quicker than patience," he conceded. His eyes lingered on hers, something dark and tender behind them. "But it also makes mistakes cost more."
"What are you so afraid I'll become?" she whispered.
"A mirror," he murmured. "One that shows me what I've lost."
The words sliced deeper than any blade.
---
A rustle broke the charged silence.
From the ruined archway, two men watched them. Strangers to Lina, but by the tightening of Ayan's jaw, clearly not strangers to him.
One was broad-shouldered, with a scar curling from lip to ear. The other leaned on a cane, too young to need it, but his eyes gleamed cold and calculating.
"Didn't know you'd taken up tutoring, Ayan," the one with the cane drawled. His voice carried oil-slick amusement. "She looks softer than your usual company."
Ayan's hand tightened on the sword hilt, but he said nothing.
Lina swallowed, forcing her chin up. "I'm right here," she said, voice steadier than she felt.
"Pretty and brave," the man chuckled. "Careful, girl. Around here, brave things break quicker."
Ayan stepped closer to her, not touching, but his presence like a shield. "Enough," he bit out.
"Relax," the scarred one grunted. "Just came to say: there's talk in the hall. Trouble brewing. If you're training anyone to hold a blade, best teach her to use it soon."
Their words lingered like smoke, then the men turned and disappeared into shadow.
---
When they were gone, Lina found her voice. "Who were they?"
Ayan's gaze remained fixed on the archway. "Old allies," he murmured. "Now… reminders."
"Reminders of what?"
"That even monsters answer to something darker."
His words tasted of warning and weariness.
---
They stood in silence, the air thick with coming rain.
Finally, Ayan looked at her, eyes softer than she had ever seen. "Tomorrow," he said again.
"And the day after?" she pressed.
His answer was almost a whisper. "As long as you keep coming back."
She nodded, chest tight with something sharp and warm all at once.
In the distance, thunder rumbled — not as a threat, but as a promise: storms were coming. And this time, she wouldn't meet them unarmed.
------ See you in next episode.....