Chapter 17: Desperate to Prove: Making The Wrong Move

Chapter 17: Desperate to Prove: Making The Wrong Move The training hall was a vast space, its stone walls echoing the faint creak of leather and the occasional clang of steel. High above, sunlight poured through narrow windows, streaking the polished floor with bands of golden light. Aramith spun his sword idly in his hand, the weight a comfortable reminder of countless hours of practice. Across from him, Mozrael stood firm, her grip tight on her metallic staff, its surface gleaming faintly. To the side, Lia perched on a stack of crates, her bow resting across her knees and a quiver of arrows propped against her leg. She appeared relaxed, but her sharp gaze betrayed her readiness. "Try not to embarrass yourself this time," Aramith teased, his grin broad as he gestured at Mozrael with his blade. Mozrael sighed, shifting her stance. "I could say the same to you," she replied, her voice calm but edged with determination. "Save it for the sparring, you two," Lia called, stringing an arrow and lazily drawing her bow. "And don’t forget, I’ll be testing your focus." Aramith smirked. "Oh, I wouldn’t worry about me, Lia. You couldn’t hit me if I were a training dummy." Lia’s fingers tightened on the string. "You’re awfully confident for someone who gets distracted so easily," she muttered before releasing the arrow. It zipped past Aramith’s shoulder, close enough to ruffle his hair. He didn’t flinch, his smirk growing wider. "Missed," he said, his tone infuriatingly smug. Mozrael rolled her eyes. "Focus, Aramith. You can’t dodge forever." Aramith lunged, his sword meeting Mozrael’s staff in a sharp clash. Sparks flew as metal struck metal, the sound reverberating through the hall. Mozrael countered smoothly, her movements precise and unyielding, forcing Aramith to shift his footing. Lia watched intently, her bow ready. Every few moments, she loosed an arrow, aiming to disrupt the rhythm of their sparring. Mozrael ducked and pivoted, her staff spinning to deflect an arrow aimed at her shoulder. "Too slow, Lia," Aramith taunted, sidestepping another shot with a flourish. "You’re going to have to try harder if you want to hit me!" "Aramith," Mozrael warned, her voice clipped as she parried a sudden strike. "Stop provoking her, or she’ll—" Another arrow zipped past, so close it grazed Aramith’s sleeve. "Whoa! Watch it, Lia!" he barked, still in a mocking tone "Keep running that mouth, Aramith, " Lia replied, her voice steady but her eyes sharp. "I might just decide to aim lower." "Tomorrow’s your birthday, Lia I’m just holding back to please you bit." "You mean our birthday. You know its your birthday just as much as it’s mine." "I’m not celebrating me and you know that," He responded. Mozrael used his distraction to her advantage, sweeping his legs with her staff. Aramith toppled, catching himself just in time to avoid a complete fall. "Focus, Aramith," Mozrael said with a small smirk. "And stop holding back," he shot back, quickly regaining his footing. "I know you’re better than this." Lia snorted from her perch, loosing another arrow that forced both of them to dive in opposite directions. "You two are hopeless," she muttered, nocking yet another arrow. "At this rate, I’ll hit both of you before either of you lands a decent strike." Mozrael and Aramith exchanged a glance, then refocused on each other, their sparring intensifying as they dodged, blocked, and countered—not just each other but also the flurry of arrows Lia sent their way. The tension in the hall mounted with each exchange, the sparring becoming a true test of skill, focus, and patience. Lia was now shooting two arrows at a time, or that’s what it looked like to the untrained eye. She was shooting them at different intervals but timed them so they moved at the same speed. The first was shot a little slower than the first, and the second was shot a little faster so they ended up moving together. She did it so fast that it would confuse one to think she shot two arrows at the same time. But even with that, Aramith and Mozrael didn’t hesitate to destroy her arrows. Lia shortened the time interval of her shots but the two maniacs kept swatting them without batting an eye. Aramith swatted two more arrows away and grinned at Lia. "You’re getting slower. Should I come to teach you? I could dodge those shots even if I had one leg with my hands tied at my back and wearing a blindfold. How disappointing" Lia was getting annoyed at his remarks. Mocking like this wasn’t something he usually did, but a fire was fuelled within him, making him act so "Shut it would you?" She was getting more and more irritated. Mozrael noticed it, but paid no attention to it. Her face contorted into one filled with strange anger as she continued to shoot more arrows. Aramith’s sword clashed against Mozrael’s with a resounding ring, their weapons sparking in the dim light of the training hall. The space between them hummed with energy, each move a silent promise of what was to come. Mozrael’s eyes never wavered, her grip firm on her blade, but there was something in her stance that suggested doubt—a hesitation she couldn’t quite shake. She could feel it crawl under her skin, that something was off- something was about to go wrong. The duel had been ongoing for what seemed like hours, the tension rising with every strike. Aramith moved with the kind of precision that only years of training could create. His attacks were quick and decisive, yet Mozrael, no stranger to battle herself, kept pace. But something about today felt different—faster, fiercer—like the very air between them was charged with more than just the clash of steel. "Come on, Mozrael," Aramith taunted, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. "You’re not holding back, are you?" Mozrael’s eyes narrowed, the words fueling the fire within her. "You wish," she muttered, sidestepping his next blow with a graceful spin, only to feel the sharp air of his blade skim past her cheek. The duel intensified, both moving with heightened desperation. But then, everything shifted in a heartbeat. Aramith felt the danger and turned, quickly kicking Mozrael out of harm’s way. His expression turned to one of shock as he raised his sword to deflect the attack but was too late. In the corner of his eye, he saw Lia, with an expression he couldn’t quite understand. A single arrow whizzed through the air, its tip glowing with a dangerous energy. It hit its mark near the heart of the hall. The explosion was immediate. It was as if time had momentarily stopped.