As Lyon and the group strolled further, laughter trailing behind them, a sudden shift in the air quieted their voices. A soft but steady whisper filled the breeze, a rhythmic hum rising from the vast training ground ahead.
There, centered in the open field, was a lone figure. A woman, her dark hair damp with sweat, moved fluidly, wielding her sword with unyielding grace. Her breathing was calm, as still and boundless as the sky above, each strike neither rushed nor delayed but falling exactly in time with some unseen rhythm. She was fully attuned to her craft, unwavering yet boundless. This woman was Selena.
Aleysius paused, his gaze sharpening with intrigue. He watched as ethereal sword hymns began to resonate around her, each one intensifying as her concentration deepened. The air around her vibrated in reverence to her mastery, the hymns weaving together into a quiet symphony.
