The sun had barely risen when Kael stepped into the clearing, the morning mist still clinging to the earth. Lyris was already there, her sword flashing as it cut through the air in precise arcs. Each movement was fluid, her body shifting seamlessly from one stance to the next. She moved with a grace that seemed almost unnatural, as if the sword was an extension of her very being.
Kael watched her for a moment, hesitating to interrupt. He had seen skilled swordsmen before, but there was something different about Lyris. Her movements were not just practiced—they were purposeful, each swing carrying a weight that spoke of discipline and experience. Finally, he cleared his throat.
Lyris paused, her blade halting mid-swing. She turned to him, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it?"
Kael hesitated, then stepped forward. "I want to train. With you."
Her expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. "You think you can keep up?"
"I have to start somewhere," he replied, his tone resolute.
Lyris studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But don't expect me to go easy on you."
Kael nodded, gripping his sword tightly as he stepped into the clearing. Lyris gestured for him to take a stance, and he did his best to mimic what he had seen her do. She immediately frowned.
"Your footing is wrong," she said, walking over to him. She tapped his ankle with the flat of her blade. "Spread your feet. Wider. You need balance."
He adjusted his stance, but she shook her head. "Still wrong. Here. Watch."
She stepped back and took a stance of her own, her movements deliberate. "Your feet should be shoulder-width apart, your weight evenly distributed. Bend your knees slightly, and keep your back straight. The sword is an extension of your body, so your body needs to be stable."
Kael mimicked her stance again, and this time she nodded. "Better. Now, hold your sword like this."
She demonstrated, her hands gripping the hilt firmly but not tightly. "Too loose, and you'll lose control. Too tight, and you'll tire yourself out. Find the balance."
Kael adjusted his grip, and she stepped back, watching him critically. "Now, swing. Slowly."
He did as she instructed, lifting the sword and bringing it down in a controlled arc. It felt awkward, his movements stiff and unnatural. Lyris sighed.
"You're forcing it," she said. "The sword isn't just a tool. It's a part of you. Let it flow."
She stepped behind him, placing her hands over his. He tensed for a moment, but her grip was firm, guiding his movements. "Feel the weight of the blade. Let it carry you."
Under her guidance, Kael swung again, and this time it felt different. The movement was smoother, more fluid. He could feel the weight of the sword shifting through his body, his muscles working in harmony with the blade.
Lyris stepped back, watching him as he continued to practice. "Better. But you've got a long way to go."
The training continued as the morning stretched into afternoon. Kael's arms ached from the repetitive movements, but he pushed through, determined to improve. Lyris's instructions were sharp and precise, each critique cutting through his ego like a blade.
"Your swing is too shallow," she said. "Follow through. Every strike should have intent."
Kael adjusted, his movements growing more confident with each swing. But as the lesson went on, Lyris began to speak not just about technique, but about the deeper philosophy behind the sword.
"A sword is more than just steel," she said, her voice steady. "It's a symbol. A reflection of its wielder."
Kael paused, lowering his blade. "What do you mean?"
Lyris walked over to him, holding her own sword in front of her. "Every blade carries a story. It's forged in fire, tempered by hardship. Just like a swordsman. When you wield a sword, you're not just holding a weapon. You're holding a part of yourself. Your strength, your resolve, your purpose."
She turned her blade slightly, the sunlight catching on its edge. "A sword without purpose is just a piece of metal. It's the swordsman who gives it meaning."
Kael frowned, considering her words. "But what if I don't know my purpose?"
Lyris's gaze softened slightly. "Then you'll have to find it. Until you do, your blade will be hollow."
Her words lingered in his mind as they resumed their training. She began to teach him more advanced techniques, showing him how to parry and counter, how to read an opponent's movements and anticipate their strikes.
"Every fight is a conversation," she said as they sparred, their blades clashing in the quiet of the clearing. "Your opponent's movements will tell you everything you need to know. Their stance, their grip, their footwork. Pay attention, and you'll see their intent before they act."
Kael nodded, focusing on her every movement. He could see what she meant—the subtle shifts in her weight, the way her eyes flicked to his shoulder just before she struck. He tried to mimic her, but she was always a step ahead, her blade darting past his defenses with ease.
"You're too focused on reacting," she said, stepping back. "A good swordsman doesn't just defend. They control the flow of the fight."
She took a stance, her blade poised. "Attack me."
Kael hesitated, then lunged forward, his sword arcing toward her. She deflected it easily, her movements fluid and precise. "Too slow. Again."
He attacked again and again, each strike met with the same effortless defense. Frustration began to build, but Lyris remained calm, her voice steady.
"You're thinking too much," she said. "Stop trying to predict my movements. Feel the fight. Trust your instincts."
Kael gritted his teeth, stepping back to catch his breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to quiet his thoughts. When he opened them, he moved without hesitation, his blade cutting through the air with newfound confidence.
Lyris smiled faintly as she parried his strike. "Better."
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the clearing was filled with the sound of clashing steel. By the time they stopped, Kael was drenched in sweat, his muscles screaming in protest. But despite his exhaustion, he felt a sense of accomplishment. He was far from mastering the sword, but he had taken his first steps.
Lyris sheathed her blade, turning to him with a rare smile. "You've got potential," she said. "But potential means nothing without effort."
Kael nodded, his grip tightening on his sword. "I'll keep training."
"Good," she said. "Because this is just the beginning."
As they made their way back to the camp, Kael couldn't help but feel a sense of clarity. For the first time, he felt like he understood the path ahead. It wouldn't be easy, but with Lyris's guidance, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.