The training grounds were a unique clearing, nestled amidst the towering trees of the forest. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting a mesmerizing pattern of light and shadow on the ground. The air was alive with the hum of effort and the occasional shout of encouragement as young villagers honed their skills in scattered groups.
"Everyone trains here?" Cassiel asked, stepping forward.
"Yes," Auren replied, a spark of excitement in his tone. "It's where we improve. Dad says you can't just have a gift—you must know how to use it."
Cassiel glanced around and noticed a girl with sleek, elongated arms and legs darting nimbly between targets. She skillfully tossed large rocks into the air with precision. Nearby, another boy sat cross-legged on the ground, blindfolded. Suddenly, his head tilted toward her, and the faint shift of his ears, which lengthened and twitched, revealed everything she needed to know; he was training his senses.
Their resourcefulness and determination were a sight to behold. Without divine power or the certainty of perfection, these mortals had found ways to push themselves, a testament to their unwavering determination.
"What's that?" Cassiel asked softly, motioning to a tall figure in the distance. The trainee was in partial transformation, their arms covered in sleek black fur, with long claws gleaming in the sunlight.
"Oh, that's Davin," Auren said. "He's training his defense. He's tough—he can block almost anything when he shifts."
Cassiel watched as Davin braced himself, his claws spread wide, as another villager hurled a wooden spear at him. The impact sent the spear clattering to the ground, echoing through the clearing, leaving Davin unscathed.
"That's impressive," Cassiel murmured, her tone thoughtful.
Auren grinned. "It is. I can't wait to be just as good as them one day! Let's go practice."
He darted ahead, pulling her toward a section of the grounds with fewer people. Finding a clear spot, he extended his arms and took a steadying breath. The fur began to ripple along his skin, a mesmerizing sight. It spread down to his hands as claws emerged, their sharpness glinting in the sunlight.
Cassiel crossed her arms, observing closely. "Hold it steady. You're rushing."
Auren gritted his teeth, his claws trembling slightly before the fur receded. "I was trying to go faster."
"It's not just about speed," Cassiel said gently. "Control comes first. Now that you can hold your form, you should practice striking. That tree is a good enough target for now."
He frowned but nodded, trying again. This time, the transformation held longer, the claws gleaming as he flexed his hands experimentally. Auren approached the tree, his claws scraping against the bark in deliberate strikes. Deep grooves formed with each blow, though the bark didn't slice clean through.
"You're getting there," Cassiel encouraged. "Keep focusing on your breath. Don't overthink it."
A voice interrupted them from behind.
"Not bad, Auren. You're improving."
Cassiel turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered teen striding toward them, his arms folded across his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms covered in patchy scales, and his grin was confident.
"Who's this?" the teen asked, nodding toward Cassiel.
"I'm Cassiel," she said evenly. "I've been helping Auren with his training."
The teen tilted his head, his grin widening. "He's lucky, then. I'm Ryn. I train here most days, but seeing someone new is rare."
Cassiel glanced at him, noting his relaxed stance and the sharpness in his gaze. "I imagine it's even rarer to see outsiders."
Ryn shrugged. "Yeah, we don't get many. But anyone willing to help Auren can't be too bad." He paused, a spark of challenge lighting in his eyes.
"You any good yourself?"
Cassiel raised a brow. "Good at what?"
"Fighting," Ryn said, stepping closer. "You're helping Auren, but how about showing him—and us—what you can do in a little sparring match?"
Auren's eyes widened, and he glanced at Cassiel. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he said quickly.
Cassiel smiled faintly. "It's fine." She turned her gaze to Ryn. "If sparring will help you see what I can teach Auren, I'll accept."
The other trainees began to gather as Ryn moved to clear a space.
Cassiel stepped forward, picking up a wooden sword from the equipment pile nearby.
She stepped into the sparring circle, her wooden sword resting lightly in her hand. Across from her, Ryn crouched, claws extended and shimmering scales spreading over his forearms. The onlookers murmured with anticipation, eager for the sparring match to begin.
"You sure you're ready for this?" Ryn asked, a grin flashing across his face.
Cassiel tilted her head slightly, her gaze calm. "Are you?"
Ryn lunged. His claws swept low, aiming to catch her off guard, but Cassiel sidestepped effortlessly, her sword flicking out in a quick arc to tap his wrist. The motion was so smooth it almost seemed casual.
"Control your reach," she said softly, "When you overextend, you leave yourself open."
Ryn growled and surged forward again, feinting twice before slashing high at her shoulder. Cassiel moved as if she had anticipated it before he'd even begun, her blade meeting his claws with a sharp crack. She pivoted inside his guard, tapping his ribs with the flat of her sword before stepping back out of range.
"You rely too much on your strength," she said. "Think about where your strikes will leave you."
Ryn snarled in frustration, his claws raking the air as he came at her with a flurry of attacks. The speed and aggression of his movements kicked up dust around the circle, but Cassiel remained composed. She blocked and deflected each strike with precise, minimal movements, her wooden sword a blur of motion that always seemed to be precisely where it needed to be.
"You're burning energy," she said, her voice cutting through the chaos of his assault. "I'm not fighting you—I'm letting you fight yourself."
The crowd murmured as they watched Ryn grow more erratic, his frustration mounting with every failed attempt to land a blow. Finally, he roared and dropped into a crouch, his body shifting. His muscles swelled, his claws lengthened, and his tail lashed behind him as his transformation took hold. When he stood again, he was taller, more fearsome—a predator in every sense of the word.
Cassiel exhaled softly and adjusted her grip on the wooden sword. "If you're relying on that," she said, her tone still maddeningly calm, "you've already lost."
With a roar, Ryn launched himself at her, his claws coming down in a vicious arc. Cassiel sidestepped smoothly, her sword flicking up to tap the inside of his forearm as he passed. He spun, claws slashing at her midsection, but she ducked and countered with a sharp strike to the side of his knee.
Ryn stumbled but quickly recovered, lashing out with a sweeping strike. Cassiel flowed around it, her sword darting out to deflect his claw before snapping back to strike the back of his hand.
"Sloppy," she said, stepping back to avoid a wild slash. "You're stronger like this, but strength doesn't matter if your form is a mess."
Ryn growled low in his throat, his claws digging into the dirt as he crouched, readying another charge. He launched himself at her with everything he had, claws wide and tail whipping behind him. The force of his lunge seemed unstoppable.
Cassiel didn't retreat. Instead, she stepped forward into his attack. Her blade snapped out with brutal precision, striking the inside of his knee. The blow unbalanced him, and before he could recover, she pivoted sharply and swept his legs out from under him.
Ryn hit the ground with a heavy thud, dust billowing around him. Before he could move, Cassiel stepped forward, touching her wooden sword's tip lightly against his throat.
The clearing went silent, the only sound Ryn's labored breathing as he stared up at her, wide-eyed.
Cassiel looked down at him, her expression calm. "You rely too much on brute force," she said evenly. "Control the fight; don't let it control you. Power means nothing without focus."
She withdrew the sword and stepped back as Ryn shifted out of his transformed state, his claws retracting and his scales fading. He sat up slowly, rubbing his shoulder, his breathing still uneven.
Ryn looked up at her, his expression a mix of frustration and a newfound respect. Ryn opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. He let out a breath and nodded reluctantly. "I see your point."
Cassiel's gaze softened. "You've got potential, Ryn. You are strong, and your instincts are sharp. But you must learn to think beyond the moment and not rely on your strength alone."
The rest of the afternoon passed in focused training. Cassiel worked with Ryn on refining his attacks, emphasizing precision over raw power. Auren practiced holding his partial transformation longer, his claws more stable with each attempt.
Other trainees joined in, eager for tips, as Cassiel guided them through their routines with quiet encouragement.
Her movements were deliberate, and her advice was grounded in observation. Though she couldn't fully replicate her divine abilities, her mastery of technique shone through, earning nods of respect from even the more skeptical trainees.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, its golden rays casting long shadows across the training grounds, the energy began to shift. The trainees' movements slowed, their chatter quieter as the day ended.
Then, a distant sound broke the calm—a deep, resonant blowhorn echoing through the village.
Auren's ears perked up, his claws retracting as he turned toward the direction of the sound. His face lit up with excitement, and he grabbed Cassiel's hand.
"That's the hunters!" he exclaimed. "They're back!"
Cassiel felt her heart quicken, a sense of anticipation blooming in her chest. She glanced toward the horizon, where the trees cast long, jagged silhouettes against the fading light.
"Let's go," she said, allowing Auren to lead.
As the trainees dispersed, murmuring among themselves, Cassiel followed Auren as they went to find the hunters.