The heat of the bathwater wrapped around Kaidan like a second skin, its warmth doing little to soothe the relentless aches that racked his body. He stayed submerged longer than usual, letting the steam cloud the air and dull the sharp edges of his pain. His muscles screamed with every minor shift, and he could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, heavier than the water itself. Every breath felt labored, as if the simple act of drawing air required more strength than he had left. He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, staring blankly at the ceiling while his mind churned with conflicting thoughts. He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, the flickering light of a single candle casting long shadows on the stone walls.
For what felt like an eternity, he closed his mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold—and let the silence of the room envelop him. The sound of the dripping candle wax and the gentle ripples of water were his only companions. Why do I keep doing this? he thought, the question swirling in his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, which had grown longer in the past month, now brushing unevenly against his neck. The strands stuck to his damp skin, a minor irritation against the overwhelming storm of fatigue.
His gaze drifted downward, to the surface of the water. The flickering light revealed the scars crisscrossing his chest, arms, and shoulders. Some were fresh, still pink and angry from recent battles. Others were older, pale and faded, reminders of the wilderness, the raiders, and now… this.
He stood slowly, every motion a fresh reminder of the torment he endured under Garin's unyielding regimen. The water cascaded off his lean, powerful frame, revealing the tapestry of bruises and scars etched across his skin. Each mark told a story of pain, survival, and growth, but today, as he stared at them, he felt the weight of those stories pressing down on him like an invisible shackle. His body, though battered and bruised, had grown stronger. His shoulders were broader, his arms thick with muscle, and his core rippled with definition. The scars told a story of survival, but his reflection in the cracked mirror on the wall told another.
"Fourteen," he whispered to himself, touching the edge of the mirror. "I survived to fourteen." His lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile. A year had passed since Kaelith burned, since his world was ripped apart. He had survived raiders, the wilderness, and now the brutal training under Garin. But survival wasn't enough.
I have to do more than survive, he thought, his smile fading. I have to escape. I have to make them pay.
The Fight
The sparring match wasn't with Garin this time. When Kaidan arrived at the training ring, the room was already filled with an unusual buzz. Servants lined the walls, their faces a mixture of curiosity and unease. Seris herself stood at the far end of the room, leaning casually against a railing with a glass of wine in her hand. Her violet eyes sparkled with amusement as they landed on Kaidan.
"So he's finally here," she murmured, her voice carrying through the room.
Kaidan ignored her, his focus shifting to the center of the ring. A man stood there, taller and broader than Garin, his arms folded across his chest. His expression was cold, his eyes dark and calculating. This wasn't just another sparring session—this was something different.
Garin stepped forward, his stormy gray eyes meeting Kaidan's. "Today's a test," he said simply. "You've been training for a month. Time to see if you've learned anything."
Kaidan's fists clenched at his sides. "Who is he?" he asked, nodding toward the man in the ring.
"A friend of mine," Garin said with a smirk. "And someone who won't go easy on you."
The man stepped forward, his movements deliberate and confident. He cracked his knuckles, his gaze locking onto Kaidan with an intensity that made his skin prickle.
"Name's Jorik," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Don't die too quickly."
Kaidan blinked, his mismatched eyes narrowing. "Die?" he repeated, a knot of unease forming in his stomach. He turned to Garin, but the trainer said nothing, his expression unreadable. The murmur of the crowd grew louder, and Kaidan's chest tightened as he realized the truth.
This wasn't just a sparring match. This was a fight to the death.
The Bell Rings
The clang of a bell signaled the start of the match. Jorik wasted no time, closing the distance between them with surprising speed. Kaidan barely had time to dodge the first strike, a powerful blow that whistled past his ear. The air around Jorik seemed to hum with restrained energy, his movements precise and deadly.
Kaidan stumbled back, his mind racing. Focus. Stay calm. He raised his arms, bracing for the next attack. Jorik came at him again, his fists like hammers. Kaidan blocked one, the force rattling through his bones, but the second caught him in the ribs. Pain exploded in his side, and he staggered, gasping for breath.
This isn't like training, he thought, his vision swimming. He's trying to kill me.
Jorik pressed the attack, his strikes relentless. Kaidan ducked and weaved, his instincts kicking in. He had survived worse—the Shadowclaw Panther, the wolves, the wilderness itself. This was just another battle.
Adapt, he told himself, his mismatched eyes narrowing. Find an opening.
He dodged another blow, slipping to Jorik's side and landing a swift punch to his ribs. Jorik grunted, but it was like hitting a wall. The larger man swung around, his fist clipping Kaidan's shoulder and sending him sprawling to the ground.
The crowd gasped, their whispers growing louder. Kaidan pushed himself up, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His chest heaved as he glared at Jorik, his determination unshaken.
Seris's voice cut through the noise, smooth and mocking. "You're holding back, Kaidan. Are you afraid?"
Her words stung, but they lit a fire in him. Kaidan rose to his feet, his fists clenched.
"Afraid?" he muttered under his breath. "No. I'm just getting started."