Mira wasn't someone who stood out in a crowd. She preferred it that way, content to drift along the edges of conversations and gatherings, her presence as light as a whisper. For as long as she could remember, she had been the girl who stayed in the background—the one who helped others but never sought the spotlight herself.
Her timid nature often made her hesitate, her thoughts clouded by doubts she couldn't shake.
In the small village of Eryndale, Mira's life had been simple and uneventful. Her days were filled with chores—fetching water from the well, helping her mother sew clothing for the villagers, and tending to their small garden. The routine was comforting, but it also left Mira feeling trapped in a box she didn't know how to escape.
One day, as she carried a basket of freshly laundered clothes through the village square, she overheard a group of children playing near the well.
"Come on, Mira! Join us!" a boy called out, waving to her with a grin.
She froze, clutching the basket tightly. Her brown eyes darted between the smiling faces, her heart pounding.
"I-I can't," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "I have… work to do."
"Always an excuse," one of the girls teased, laughing. "You're no fun, Mira!"
Mira lowered her gaze, her cheeks burning. She hurried away, the weight of their words pressing against her chest.
Mira had always felt like an outsider, even in her own village. She wasn't as bold as Leira, nor as strong as the boys who worked in the fields. But what she lacked in confidence, she made up for in quiet empathy.
Whenever someone was in trouble, Mira was the first to lend a hand. When a neighbor's cart broke down, she stayed late to help gather the scattered produce. When a child scraped their knee, she was there with a clean cloth and a kind smile.
"Mira, you're too soft," her mother often chided gently. "People will take advantage of you if you keep giving so much of yourself."
But Mira couldn't help it. She hated seeing others in pain, even if it meant sacrificing her own comfort
Though Mira was hesitant and unsure of herself most of the time, there were rare moments when her quiet strength shone through.
One such moment had occurred just a few weeks earlier, when Leira had gotten into an argument with some older boys in the village.
"You think you're so tough?" one of them sneered, towering over Leira. "You're just a loudmouth with no bite."
Leira clenched her fists, her green eyes blazing. "Say that again!"
Before the confrontation could escalate, Mira had stepped forward, her hands trembling but her voice steady.
"P-Please, s-stop," she stammered, placing herself between Leira and the boys. "This… th-this isn't right."
The older boys laughed, brushing her off, but Mira refused to move. Her legs felt like jelly, and her heart raced in her chest, but the fear of seeing Leira get hurt gave her the courage to stand firm.
"Leave her alone," Mira said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper but laced with a surprising resolve.
The boys eventually backed down, their mockery trailing behind them as they walked away.
Leira had been furious at first, accusing Mira of treating her like she couldn't handle herself. But later, she'd softened, her gratitude shining through in her rare, awkward way.
"Don't do that again," Leira had muttered, her cheeks flushed. "But… thanks."
Mira's shyness often made her trip over her own words. It wasn't that she didn't know what to say—it was that the weight of her thoughts always seemed heavier than her voice.
When speaking to strangers, her politeness often made her seem overly cautious.
Her stammer was a part of her, one that she wished she could overcome but had learned to accept.
Back on the court, as the game began to shift under Sander's quiet leadership, Mira couldn't help but notice him.
He was so… different.
Who stood at the center of the court. The afternoon sun glinted off his silver hair, catching the strands and turning them into a halo of light. His sharp blue eyes were calm, unreadable, as he dribbled the ball with a smooth rhythm.
There was something about him—something quiet but commanding. He didn't yell or boast like Weylan or his team. He didn't flinch under pressure. Even when they were losing, his confidence never wavered.
Mira's cheeks warmed slightly as she watched him. He looked so different from anyone else she knew in Eryndale. So… composed.
"Focus, Mira," she whispered to herself, shaking her head.
The game shifted as Sander took control. Mira had been too nervous to notice at first, but now she couldn't look away.
His movements were subtle but deliberate.
Sander shifted suddenly, his calm demeanor giving way to an explosion of speed and precision. His reflexes were so sharp, so quick, that Mira could barely follow the ball as it left his hands.
Even Weylan's team seemed caught off guard. Jax faltered.
"What the—" Weylan muttered, his confident grin slipping.
Mira's breath hitched as she watched. Sander wasn't just good—he was different. There was something almost magical about the way he played, as though the ball itself obeyed his will
Leira darted forward, her quick hands swiping at the ball, forcing Weylan to stumble.
"Kel, stick with Jax!"
Kel hesitated but moved to block Jax, slowing him down just enough to disrupt the play.
"Renik, shoot!"
Renik, who had been fumbling just moments earlier, squared his shoulders and took the shot. The ball wobbled but fell through the hoop, earning their first points.
Mira blinked in surprise, her chest tightening with a mix of relief and awe.
Mira glanced at her teammates. Kel was still nervous, but he was moving more decisively now. Renik, who had hesitated before every shot, now seemed focused, his gaze steady. Even Leira, always fiery but often scattered, was playing with purpose.
And then there was Sander, standing at the center of it all.
He didn't need to shout or boast. His presence alone was enough. His calm words, his quick thinking, his flawless execution—they were transforming the team, one play at a time.
On the other side of the court, Weylan scowled, his confidence cracking. "What are you doing? Stop messing around!"
Halden grunted, his broad shoulders heaving as he glared at Kel. Jax fidgeted, his quick hands flexing nervously.
Sander stood near the half-court line, his smirk faint but unmistakable.
"Keep it up," he said quietly, his voice carrying to his teammates. "We're getting there."
Mira felt a surge of hope she hadn't known she needed. For the first time, she believed they might actually stand a chance.
Mira's gaze lingered on Sander as they reset for the next play. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, his calm expression a stark contrast to the chaos around him.
Who is he? she wondered, her thoughts swirling. And how does he know exactly what to do?
As the ball was inbounded and the game resumed, Mira's thoughts flickered back to the moment they had all gathered near the hoop during the timeout. Sander's quiet words, his confident instructions, his unwavering belief in their ability—it had changed everything.
She gripped the edge of her shirt, her determination hardening. We can do this. We just have to trust him.
Mira stood near the hoop, her hands trembling as she held her defensive stance. Sweat trickled down her brow, but her focus wasn't on the game—it was on Sander Visione.
He moved across the dirt court with an ease that was mesmerizing. His silver hair caught the light with every turn, every step, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His calm, commanding presence had shifted into something more electrifying.
Mira clutched the edge of her shirt tightly, her brown eyes following his every move.
"Sander," Mira whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. She felt her heart flutter as she watched him, her admiration growing with every passing second.
Sander's aura had changed. Gone was the relaxed, almost passive demeanor he had displayed earlier. Now, he exuded an energy that was impossible to ignore—a quiet intensity that made everyone, even Weylan's team, pause and take notice.
The score was 2-10, and Weylan's team had grown complacent, their overconfidence blinding them to the subtle changes happening on the court.
Sander caught the inbound pass and dribbled up the court, his movements smooth and controlled. Weylan moved to block him, but Sander's sharp blue eyes were already scanning the court, assessing every player, every angle.
"Kel, cut to the left!" Sander called out, his voice steady but firm.
Kel hesitated, his movements awkward, but he followed Sander's instruction. Weylan's attention shifted briefly, giving Sander just enough room to slip past him.
"Renik, corner!" Sander barked, passing the ball with a quick flick of his wrist.
The pass was sharp, precise, landing perfectly in Renik's hands. Renik squared up, his lanky frame trembling slightly as he took the shot. The ball arced through the air, wobbling but true, before sinking into the net.
"Four-ten!" Leira shouted, her voice filled with excitement.
Mira's breath hitched as Sander turned, his sharp gaze already scanning for their next opportunity.
"Leira, stay on Jax," Sander instructed. "Don't let him pass cleanly."
Leira nodded, her quick feet darting after Jax as he tried to maneuver the ball. Her sharp reflexes disrupted his rhythm, forcing a sloppy pass that Sander intercepted with ease.
"Kel, stay low!" Sander called, tossing the ball to the shorter boy.
Kel's eyes widened, but he caught the ball and dribbled tentatively toward the hoop. Halden moved to block him, his hulking frame a daunting presence, but Sander was already in motion.
"Pass it back!"
Kel obeyed, lobbing the ball toward Sander, who caught it mid-stride. Without breaking his rhythm, Sander passed it to Mira, who stood near the rim.
"Mira, jump!"
Her heart raced as she leapt, the ball leaving her hands in a shaky arc. It hit the backboard, bounced once, and fell through.
"Six-ten!" Leira shouted, pumping her fist in the air.
Mira landed lightly, her breath coming in short gasps. She turned to Sander, her cheeks flushed, and found him watching her with a faint, encouraging smile.
"You did good," he said simply, his voice steady.
Her chest tightened at his words, and she quickly looked away, her face burning. "Th-Thank you," she stammered.
Leira clapped her on the back, her green eyes sparkling. "See? Told you we could do this!"
Mira nodded, her confidence growing with every moment.
Weylan's team on offense, their earlier cockiness giving way to visible frustration.
"What are you doing out there?" Weylan snapped, glaring at Jax. "Get it together!"
"Tomar! Guard that cheeky girl!" Weylan angrily shouted.
Sander smirked faintly, his calm demeanor unshaken. "Let's keep the pressure on."he murmured to bis team.
The ball was inbounded, and Weylan's team advanced quickly. Halden barreled toward the hoop, his broad frame a battering ram.
"Mira, don't contest early," Sander called. "Wait for him to jump."
Mira nodded, her eyes narrowing as Halden approached. She planted her feet, her fingers twitching nervously as she waited.
Halden leapt, and Mira followed, timing her jump perfectly. Her fingertips grazed the ball, knocking it off course. It hit the rim and bounced away, where Leira snagged the rebound.
"Good timing," Sander said as Mira landed beside him.
Her heart swelled at his praise, and she found herself smiling despite the tension.
Leira dribbled down the court, her quick feet keeping Jax at bay. She passed to Renik, who hesitated briefly before shooting.
Fellin was there, he contest the shot with his long arms.
The ball missed, bouncing off the backboard, but Mira was there to grab the rebound. She passed it back to Sander, who moved with practiced ease, weaving through Weylan's defense before passing to Kel.
"Take the shot!" Sander urged.
Kel's hands shook as he launched the ball, but it arced cleanly, dropping through the net.
"Eight-ten!"
Mira watched as Sander clapped Kel on the back, his smirk faint but approving. He moved with such ease, such quiet authority, that she couldn't help but feel drawn to him.
His silver hair, his sharp blue eyes, the way he spoke with calm confidence—it was all so… breathtaking.