The dawn after the midnight duel brought with it a quiet sense of resolution, though the weight of the night's events still lingered in the air. Dorian and Caelan returned to the dormitory, their steps in sync, but their minds far apart. Dorian had confessed his feelings for Elena, and while the weight on his shoulders seemed to have lightened, the uncertainty still gnawed at him. As they entered the room, Aldric stirred from his sleep, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of his two comrades standing in the doorway.
"Back already?" Aldric muttered, his voice thick with sleep. "You two look like you've been through a war, not just a sparring match."
Caelan gave him a half-smile, his eyes glancing over at Dorian, who had yet to speak. Dorian's face was unreadable, but there was something different in his posture—something that suggested the tension within him had lessened, even if only by a fraction.
"I think we've both had enough of wars for the moment," Caelan replied, his tone light but laced with the undertones of the conversation they'd just had. "Dorian, get some rest. You've earned it."
Dorian didn't respond immediately, his gaze shifting to the floor as if the weight of the world was still pressing down on him. But then, as if to reassure Caelan, he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think I will."
Caelan glanced at Aldric, who raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. The tension between the two men was palpable, but Aldric wisely held his tongue. Instead, he rolled over in his bed, muttering, "I'll keep an eye on things. You two get some sleep."
With that, the room fell into a quiet stillness, save for the soft breathing of the three friends. Caelan sat on his bed, his mind still buzzing from the duel. He had been hard on Dorian, pushing him to confront his emotions, but it had been necessary. Dorian had been lost, and the only way to pull him back was to force him to face the truth—about Elena, about himself.
But even as Caelan lay down to rest, his thoughts returned to the conversation they had shared. Dorian's admission about Elena had been unexpected, but it had made sense. Caelan had seen the way Dorian had looked at her, the subtle shifts in his behavior whenever Elena was near. It wasn't hard to connect the dots.
But what troubled Caelan more than Dorian's feelings for Elena was the fact that Dorian had been hiding them. Dorian, the master tactician, who had always been able to read people and situations with uncanny precision, had allowed his own emotions to cloud his judgment. It wasn't like him. It wasn't like him at all.
Caelan closed his eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that threatened to keep him awake. He needed rest. The finals were only a few weeks away, and there was still so much to do. But even as he drifted off into a light sleep, his mind kept returning to Dorian and the words they had exchanged. What would happen now? Would Dorian be able to find the clarity he needed to move forward, or would his feelings for Elena continue to haunt him?
Next Morning
The training grounds were filled with the familiar sounds of clashing swords and the rhythmic hum of magic in the air. The academy's students were preparing for the final competition, each honing their skills in the hope of proving themselves worthy. But among them, one figure stood out, his movements slower, less confident than the rest. Rhys, Aldric's younger brother, was struggling. His once-fluid motions now appeared stiff, his strikes lacking the sharpness they had once held. The fire in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a shadow of uncertainty.
Aldric noticed the change almost immediately. He had always kept a close eye on Rhys, both as a mentor and as a brother, but today there was something different. Rhys seemed distracted, his focus not on the movements in front of him but on something deeper. It was as if his mind was elsewhere, caught in a web of doubt. Aldric had seen this before—when someone lost their confidence, it was hard to regain it. And it troubled him to see Rhys in this state, especially now, so close to the final competition.
After a while, Aldric called for a break, signaling the others to stop and gather around. He motioned for Rhys to come over to him, his voice quiet but firm. "Rhys, come here for a moment."
Rhys hesitated, glancing at his brother before walking over, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "What's wrong?" Aldric asked, his tone softening.
Rhys avoided his gaze, instead staring at the ground. "I don't know," he muttered. "I just... I don't think I can do this. Not anymore."
Aldric raised an eyebrow, his concern deepening. "What do you mean? You've been training harder than anyone else. You're stronger than you think."
Rhys shook his head. "No, Aldric. After what I saw last night, I don't think I can ever be as good as you. Not as good as Prince Caelan and Prince Dorian." His voice cracked slightly as he spoke the names of the two princes, and Aldric's heart tightened.
Aldric had known his brother to be ambitious, confident in his abilities, but there was a new vulnerability in Rhys's voice now. Something had shaken him deeply.
"What did you see?" Aldric asked, his curiosity piqued. Rhys hesitated for a moment before speaking, the words tumbling out in a rush.
"I couldn't sleep last night," Rhys began, his voice low. "I was walking near the training hall when I saw them—Prince Caelan and Prince Dorian. They were going inside, and I followed. I watched them from the entrance."
Aldric's expression softened as he listened, but he remained silent, waiting for his brother to continue.
"I saw their duel," Rhys said, his eyes distant as if replaying the scene in his mind. "It was... incredible. The way they fought. Their swordplay, the magic they used, the way they moved—it was flawless. I've never seen anything like it. They were so... perfect. And after watching them, especially after seeing Prince Caelan, I finally understood why you respect him so much. Why you decided to join the Knight order of Prince Caelan Eryndor after leaving academy. "
Rhys paused, his voice growing quieter. "I thought I could be like you. I thought I could stand next to you, because I have the dual ability of using both magic and sword. I thought that one day, I could be just as strong. But after seeing them, I don't think I can ever be that good. No matter how hard I try."
Aldric listened in silence, his heart aching for his younger brother. He knew how much Rhys had looked up to him, how much he had wanted to follow in his footsteps. But this... this was different. Rhys had always believed in his own potential, but now he was questioning it.
After a long pause, Aldric finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Rhys, they are strong. There's no denying that. But that's not the only reason I chose to serve Prince Caelan. There's more to it than just their strength. Yes, they're incredible fighters, but they are more than that. They are leaders. And it's not just their abilities that make them great. It's their minds, their hearts, and their vision."
Rhys looked up at Aldric, confusion still in his eyes. "But I thought... I thought I could one day stand next to you. I thought I could be as good as you."
Aldric sighed, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Rhys, you're stronger than you think. But you need to understand something. Prince Caelan is not just a great fighter. He's a great leader. And that's why I chose to serve him. Not because of his swordplay, but because of the way he leads. The way he inspires people to be better, to push past their limits. And Dorian... Dorian is a brilliant tactician, a strategist like no other. He has a mind that can see things others can't. But even he knows he lacks something crucial. That's why Caelan leads, not Dorian. They are different, but they complement each other in a way that makes them unstoppable."
Rhys absorbed his brother's words, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand. "But... what about me? What if I'm not good enough? What if I can't ever reach their level?"
Aldric smiled gently. "You're not meant to be them, Rhys. You're meant to be yourself. And that's more than enough. You have your own strengths. You have the potential to be a great knight, but you have to believe in yourself first. And you have to be patient. No one becomes great overnight."
Rhys looked up at his brother, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I get it," he said softly. "But... I'm still not sure if I can be like you. If I can ever be as good as you or Prince Caelan."
Aldric chuckled softly. "You don't have to be like me, Rhys. You just have to be the best version of yourself. And that's what I want for you. So, how about this—why not ask the person you're admiring and terrified of? Maybe you'll find the answers you're looking for."
Rhys blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Aldric motioned with his chin, and Rhys turned to see Prince Caelan walking toward them, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp, as always.
Caelan's steps were purposeful, his gaze steady as he approached the two brothers. "What's this about, Aldric?" he asked, his voice calm but curious.
Aldric grinned and nodded toward Rhys. "Caelan, you really did go all out yesterday in your fight with Dorian. You've scared my brother. He's saying he can never be as good as you, no matter how hard he tries."
Caelan raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "I'm surprised someone was awake to see our duel last night. But, oh well."
He turned his gaze to Rhys, who had turned a shade of red, looking both nervous and embarrassed. "You're still a long way from reaching us," Caelan said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You're still too green for that. We've been training for years. You're young, and you're still growing. You can't expect to be at our level right away."
Rhys looked down, feeling a mixture of shame and frustration. "I just thought... if I practiced enough, I could catch up."
Caelan's expression softened. "You can't just beat us and expect to reach our level by practicing a little. It takes years of dedication. You have to believe in yourself and keep practicing. When you face your opponents in a few days, give it everything you've got. And when you meet stronger opponents, they'll draw out your potential—things you didn't even know you were capable of. That's what happened to me. It wasn't overnight. It was a long road."
Rhys nodded slowly, taking in Caelan's words. "So... you think I can still get better?"
Caelan smiled, his eyes warm with encouragement. "Of course you can. But you need to stop doubting yourself. Trust in your training, and trust in your abilities. Keep pushing yourself, and you'll get there."
Rhys stood a little taller, a spark of hope returning to his eyes. "I'll keep practicing. I won't give up."
Aldric clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit. Now get back to work."
As Rhys walked back to the training grounds, a sense of renewed determination in his step, Aldric turned to Caelan, gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you. You've given him the push he needed."
Caelan simply nodded; his expression thoughtful. "We all need a reminder sometimes. Even I do."
And as the two watched Rhys rejoin his training, they knew that the path to greatness wasn't just about skill—it was about belief, resilience, and the strength to keep moving forward, no matter how difficult the journey might be.