I sidestepped to the right, my sword flashing up just in time to deflect Aeron's strike. The impact rattled through my arms, but I held firm, twisting my wrist to redirect his momentum.
Aeron staggered back a step, surprise flickering across his face before he grinned and lunged again. His blade cut through the cold air in a silver arc—faster this time, his form flawless.
I parried, countering with a slash that forced him to retreat.
Again.
And again.
Our swords clashed in the training yard, steel ringing against steel, snow crunched underfoot as we circled each other, breaths misting in the cold air. Around us, snowflakes swirled, undisturbed by the ferocity of our duel.
To an outsider, we might have looked evenly matched. Neither of us gained ground; neither of us faltered. But if someone watched closely—really watched—they'd see the truth.
