"Wish, you can't control us."
Cire woke up with a start, his heart pounding. The voice lingered in his mind, distant yet sharp, its words cutting through the silence of the cave. He sat up, blinking at his surroundings. Everything seemed normal—Byru was hopping on the bed in her wolf form, her translucent paws leaving faint trails of light as she bounced.
Cire shook his head, trying to dismiss the unease the voice had left behind. "Stand down, girl," he said in a playful tone, reaching out to caress her fur. Byru responded with a warm, humming sound, but Cire's mind wasn't fully in the moment. That voice… it felt wrong. Familiar, but wrong.
He had trouble distinguishing his own emotions from those that came from his bond with Byru. The faint hum of her Virtus connection was always present, blurring the lines between what he felt and what she reflected. Still, something deep inside urged him to remember the voice, to memorize its tone. It felt important.
Pushing the thought aside, Cire started his morning routine. He washed himself, the cool water helping to clear his mind. As he dried off, his gaze drifted to his reflection. His body had changed significantly in the weeks he had been training. The faint lines of muscle were visible now, and he looked stronger, leaner. His black hair, with its faint purplish undertones, had grown long, brushing past his shoulders. He tied it loosely to keep it out of his face. The mark on his chest remained the same, its intricate design faintly glowing with a soft purple hue, though only if he focused on it. Occasionally, it emitted subtle vibrations, almost imperceptible, like the whisper of a distant heartbeat.
Byru, meanwhile, was splashing playfully in the basin of water. She shifted forms, testing the boundaries of her transformations, turning briefly into a rodent, then a bird, before settling back into her wolf pup shape. Cire smiled faintly, her antics lightening his mood.
When Praesul arrived, his presence filled the room like a storm cloud, as it always did. "Boy, tie your hair," he said, tossing a hairband at Cire.
Cire caught it and tied his hair back properly, exposing his full face. Praesul studied him for a moment, his masked face unreadable. Cire didn't know if he was looking for weakness or just assessing his progress. His gray eyes, full of determination, locked on Praesul.
"Come," Cire said, trying to taunt the masked man.
Praesul didn't react, standing unmoving as always. His calm demeanor only irritated Cire more.
"Byru, let's do it!" Cire shot forward, with Byru bounding alongside him in her wolf form. She lunged first, her translucent form leaping toward Praesul's face, jaws aimed for his mask.
Praesul moved like lightning. His fist connected with Byru mid-air, and her body dissolved instantly, scattering like ash made of Virtus. But she didn't disappear. Cire grinned. Got him.
Byru reappeared in her true form—an ethereal, glowing core floating in the air. She shifted quickly into the form of a rodent, scurrying toward Praesul. The masked man reacted instantly, grabbing her and throwing her toward the waterfall at the edge of the cave.
Cire knew this would happen. He had studied Praesul's reactions over the past weeks, learning his patterns and timing. Every second he spends on Byru is a second I can use.
As Praesul focused on throwing Byru away, Cire moved in. He darted forward silently, his dagger in hand. He was inches from Praesul's back, his heart pounding with the thrill of victory. I've got you. Finally.
But before the blade could land, Praesul spun around. His hand shot out, gripping Cire's head and slamming it into the hard stone ground. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through Cire's body, and the dagger clattered out of his grasp.
Praesul straightened, brushing the dust from his gloved hands. "That was not bad, boy," he said, his tone lighter than usual. "You used Byru well and were cunning enough to try sneaking up on me. But you missed one thing—Byru can touch me all she wants, but as long as you don't land a hit, you lose."
Cire groaned, pushing himself up. His face burned with frustration, more from the humiliating loss than the pain. Blast! Why does he always have to win in such a showy way? I hate you and your mask.
The sparring session ended with Cire once again unable to touch the masked man. His mood was at an all-time low. Even with Byru's support, he felt as if he were running in circles, unable to make any real progress.
But Byru's presence pulled him back from the edge of despair. Her soft, warm hum filled his mind with a sense of calm, pushing away the bitterness creeping into his thoughts.
"It's alright, Byru," Cire said, running his hand through her fur. "We'll get him tomorrow. I'm sure of it."
Byru transformed into her wolf pup form, wagging her translucent tail, her star-filled eyes glowing with trust and hope.
Cire clenched his fists, looking down at her. "Tomorrow, we'll win." Cire said with a warm smile. 'I need to go back to training, Byru , she gives me a huge boost but I need to grown on my own too.' Cire thoughts were almost palpable, his heart vibrate and his mark pulsed.