The sunlight filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow that made the dust in the air seem to dance. The group slept peacefully in their soft, warm beds —a luxury they rarely enjoyed. For Kio, however, it was a distant memory… and a temptation hard to resist.
Zein was the first to open his eyes, as usual. He stretched and smiled lightly before glancing at Lyra, who was already stirring in her bed.
—Come on, Lyra. Time to get up —he said softly, though she was already watching him with that calm, dreamy expression of hers.
While the two got ready, one figure remained completely oblivious to the world. Kio was curled up beneath the sheets, breathing so peacefully she looked like a stone in deep slumber.
—Kio… —Zein called patiently.
Silence.
—Kio! —he repeated, shaking her bed this time.
She barely lifted her head, eyes half-open, hair a tangled mess, and her voice sluggish and hoarse.
—What do you want...? —
—It's time to get up. —
—Let me sleep a little longer… will you? —she mumbled before pulling the blanket back over her head like a fortress.
Zein sighed, crossing his arms.
I really admire her strength and all, but… the strength of her laziness is unmatched, he thought with resignation.
—Then if you're not getting up, we're going to look around the city —he said, taking Lyra's hand.
From under the blankets came a muffled, unconcerned voice.
—Sure… just be careful —Kio replied, lazily waving her hand in the air as if shooing a fly.
As they stepped out of the church, a cool breeze greeted them along with the lively murmur of the city. The streets of Ilmenor were waking to life: merchants calling out fresh bread and exotic fruits, blacksmiths hammering iron in nearby forges, and children darting between the stalls, laughing as they ran.
Zein looked around wide-eyed, as if trying to etch every detail into his memory. Among the crowd, adventurers moved in gleaming armor, swords catching the sunlight like mirrors, and mages wrapped in robes that seemed to whisper secrets within their folds. Elves with silver hair and graceful movements walked past, serene and almost ethereal, while dwarves with rough, calloused hands carried tools and ingots as if they weighed nothing, their deep voices rumbling in cheerful arguments.
But what caught Zein's attention the most were the knights. Their armor shone with pride—some silver, others dark as night. Each carried their sword with a solemn reverence as they patrolled the streets. A single glance was enough to see who commanded and who obeyed.
Zein walked through the streets like a child caught in a dream, his eyes reflecting every detail. He stared in disbelief at the knights patrolling the city, their armor gleaming under the sun, banners fluttering in the wind. Beside him, Lyra watched the food stalls in silence, her eyes lighting up at the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat... though both of them knew they couldn't afford a single thing.
Even so, the atmosphere felt warm. The townsfolk greeted them kindly, and a few merchants—elves, humans, and even a couple of cheerful dwarves—offered them small samples of what they sold. Zein, as always, chatted endlessly with anyone who crossed his path, while Lyra simply nodded or replied with a few soft words, her voice still weak but gentle.
After wandering through several streets, they stopped before a building that stood out from the rest. A smoking chimney rose from its roof, and the air smelled of hot metal and freshly worked wood.
Once inside, Zein was left speechless. The place was packed with things —armor, swords, bows, bottles filled with colorful liquids, and tools he couldn't even name. Every corner seemed to hide something fascinating. While he explored the shelves, Lyra stayed outside, sitting on a bench and enjoying a small loaf of bread an elderly man had kindly given them.
Zein was admiring each object in awe when he heard the door open. A knight stepped inside —but he wasn't like the others. His armor gleamed with a distinct luster, adorned with intricate engravings and a design that balanced elegance and strength. He drew attention even without trying.
Zein stared openly, his eyes wide with admiration.
—What is it, boy? Do I have something on my face? —the knight asked, noticing his gaze.
—Oh, no, not at all… it's just that your armor looks amazing —Zein said, scratching the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed.
The man glanced down at his chest and let out a soft laugh.
—You think so? No one's ever told me that before. —
—Really? Well, I mean it —Zein said, still staring at the armor with wide, gleaming eyes.
The Knight chuckled and crouched slightly, ruffling Zein's hair with a gloved hand.
—Hahaha, thank you, kid. My name's Lucian, leader of the Knights of Ilmenor. And you? What's your name? —
—I'm Zein Ravenscroft —he replied proudly, though a bit nervous in front of someone so imposing.
—A pleasure to meet you, Zein —Lucian said warmly as he straightened up—. Tell me, do you like this kind of stuff? —
Zein looked around, his gaze tracing the swords hanging on the walls, the metallic gleam flickering in the firelight.
—Yeah… I think I do —he answered, a hint of doubt in his tone, though the spark in his eyes betrayed him.
Lucian nodded, a nostalgic look crossing his face.
—I used to be fascinated by these things too, when I was your age. I dreamed of becoming a knight, protecting people, wielding a sword like these. Would you like to be one someday? —he asked with a calm, almost fatherly smile.
Zein fell silent for a moment. The thought had never crossed his mind before… but when he imagined it, something ignited inside him.
—Of course I would! —he answered with a wide grin.
They kept talking, sharing laughs and stories. Lucian showed him some basic stances —how to hold a sword, how to feel its weight and balance. Then, with steady, graceful movements, he lifted his own blade, gripping it with both hands.
—Watch this, kid. It's a technique I learned a long time ago. —His voice lowered, taking on a solemn tone.
He began murmuring a chant under his breath. The air around the blade shimmered faintly, and slowly, the steel began to glow with a dim light —like liquid fire running along its edges. Zein watched, eyes wide in awe, utterly captivated.
"Interesting…"
Zein blinked. The voice resonated inside his head, deep and sharp at the same time, like a metallic echo scraping his mind. His body tensed instantly.
"Who said that?" he thought, turning in every direction, searching for any nearby presence. But there was no one. Only Lucian, watching him.
The air around him shifted. Something, invisible to the eye, emanated from Zein's body. A dense, dark energy, subtle yet unsettling, like a whisper seeping into the surroundings. Zein didn't notice it… but Lucian did.
The glow of Lucian's sword changed in an instant, dimming to a colder hue. His gaze did too.
In a single movement, Lucian pressed the blade against Zein's neck, with a precision that made the air itself shiver.
—Don't move… demon —he said in a grave voice, without a hint of doubt. His previously kind expression had vanished, replaced by the sternness of a true knight facing danger.
In an instant, Zein lifted his hand forward. A gust of air roared around him and exploded with force, smashing into the wall of the smithy. The crash shook the place; tools, swords, and pieces of armor fell like metallic rain, clattering across the floor.
Zein barely took a second to recover. With a quick leap, Lucian closed the distance between them, his sword whistling as it sliced through the air in a precise arc. Zein ducked by pure reflex, feeling the edge brush his hair. One slower movement and he would have lost his head.
Lucian twisted the hilt skillfully and struck with the pommel of his sword. The impact landed solidly on Zein's skull. Dazed, the boy staggered back, his vision blurred, but his instinct acted faster than his mind. He raised his arm and released another blast of wind, propelling himself backward, sliding across the floor until he came to a halt in the middle of the workshop, gasping for air.
Lucian advanced relentlessly. Each step made his armor resonate like a war drum. The thrust he launched was direct, a clean and deadly motion. Zein barely twisted in time, feeling the air cut inches from his cheek. He countered with another gust that pushed him toward the door, searching for space.
The impact was brutal. Zein's body smashed through the wood in an explosion of splinters and rolled onto the cobblestone street, leaving a trail of dust. He coughed, trying to catch his breath.
"Damn… why didn't Kio teach me more than these two damn spells?" he thought, gritting his teeth. "I'm completely outmatched… one mistake and I'm dead."
Turning around, he saw Lyra standing frozen at the entrance. Her expression was pure fear, yet her eyes kept searching for her brother's.
—Lyra! —Zein shouted, pointing toward the church—. Go to Kio! Explain what's happening, quickly!
Lyra took a hesitant step back, just as Lucian's shadow crossed the broken doorway.
—I won't let anyone escape —he said firmly, lowering his sword.
Lucian charged, his blade gleaming with a golden reflection under the sun. Zein reacted immediately, unleashing two consecutive blasts. The first struck the knight's sword, just enough to throw off his balance; the second hit Lyra, forcefully pushing her out of Lucian's reach.
Lyra was sent flying into the crowd that was starting to swirl around them, screams and murmurs rising by the second.
—Go, Lyra! Quickly! —Zein yelled, his voice hoarse from the dust-filled air.
She scrambled to her feet and ran with all her might toward the church, weaving through people, never looking back.
Zein, his throat burning and body trembling, barely managed to stay on his feet. His chest ached with every breath, but there was no time to think. Lucian charged relentlessly, the tip of his sword aiming for Zein's chest. Zein twisted to the side, the blade grazing his skin, leaving a line of fire along his side.
Lucian spun with military precision, raising his sword above his head and delivering a vertical strike. Zein, acting purely on instinct, extended his hand and released a gust of wind that sent him flying backward, away from the smithy.
The sword struck the ground with a sharp crash, embedding itself firmly. The stones trembled under the impact. For a single second, Lucian's blade was stuck, and Zein saw his only chance. He lunged forward, but before he could reach him, the knight released the hilt and continued advancing, delivering a flurry of punches.
Zein dodged as best as he could; each blow grazed his face or chest, the air cutting his skin with every movement. His reflexes were barely keeping him alive.
Then Lucian feinted a kick that never came. Zein fell into the trap. The knight's right fist struck him squarely in the stomach, knocking the wind completely out of him. The impact sent him flying backward, his head smashing against the edge of a rooftop. The tiles cracked, and Zein hit the ground, the world spinning and his ears ringing with an unbearable high-pitched whistle.
Blood ran down his forehead, his breathing ragged and broken. He tried to stand, but his arms wouldn't obey. In front of him, Lucian advanced, sword already drawn, his gaze cold and determined.
Zein barely managed to get to his feet. Lucian twisted his body and delivered a kick; Zein leapt reflexively, but the knight was faster. He grabbed him by the chest with a single hand and slammed him to the ground with brutal force.
The blow left him breathless. His whole body ached, and the world blurred. All he could hear was his own labored breathing and the distant echo of the crowd.
"Damn… this is it… this time I'm done for," he thought, closing his eyes in resignation as he watched the steel glint above him.
"I would have loved to spend more time with you… Lyra"
Lucian raised his sword, the edge trembling in the light. For a moment, everything fell silent.
The strike never came.
There was only a sharp snap.
Zein squinted, and what he saw stole his breath away. Before him, Kio stood firm, her hair tousled and her ceremonial dress fluttering in the wind. She held Lucian's blade firmly in her bare hands.
The air grew thick. Neither spoke. Just Kio's gaze, icy and lethal, was enough to freeze the knight in place.