The mission was supposed to be simple: just a routine patrol along the borders.
Draven, Melken, and our mentor moved quietly through the forest, unaware of the trap waiting for them.
Sometimes, I could still feel the forge in my bones.
The heat, the sparks, the rhythm of hammer against steel-it had been the heartbeat of my childhood.
Father didn't speak much. But every strike of the hammer taught me something: precision, patience, strength.
Mother... Liora Veyran... she was a memory painted in light. Her laughter, brief and bright, lived only in my dreams.
She was taken when I was eight, and the world dimmed the moment she was gone.
Now, though, the shadows of the forest demanded my full attention.
Then the ambush hit.
Soldiers... dozens of them, surrounding us like wolves.
And at their front... a masked commander. Silent. Lethal.
Time slowed.
Every strike he made... precise, calculated.
Every move I took... anticipated.
A flicker of recognition hit me like lightning.
The stance, the movements, the sword-
Melken?
Impossible.
"No... it can't be," I whispered, my chest tightening.
Yet every motion, every calculated strike, told a truth I wasn't ready to face.
Melken stayed back, calm as ever, observing.
He didn't interfere, but his eyes... they held a secret I wasn't meant to understand... yet.
The clash of steel tore through the clearing.
Sparks flew. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
This wasn't just a fight for survival...
it was a test.
A lesson in betrayal, trust, and hidden truths.
Each strike pushed me to my limits.
And though he said nothing, his eyes... they burned with purpose.
Finally, he stepped back, vanishing into the shadows.
But the question remained, sharp as any blade:
"How well do you really know your allies?"
A chill ran down my spine.
The forge, the blades, the lessons of my youth-they had prepared me for battle,
but not for the shadows that lurked in the hearts of those I called friends.
The truth... whatever it was, had only just begun to unfold.