Morning had matured into a golden noon, and Floyd's arms trembled as he completed another drill in the courtyard. Sweat clung to his brow, trailing down his cheeks like the memory of effort. The wooden training sword felt heavier with each swing, not because of its weight, but because of the weight he carried inside—his own expectations.
BohLin, standing at a distance with arms crossed over his muscled chest, nodded. "You've improved. But your movements are still too refined—almost calculated. Swordplay isn't just about form. It's about instinct. When blades clash, thought slows you down."
Floyd caught his breath, adjusting his stance. "I'll work on it."
"You're trying to be perfect," BohLin continued, stepping forward, his voice calm but firm. "But you won't be. Not always. Sometimes, you need to let the body speak for itself. Stop treating every fight like a puzzle."
Floyd lowered his sword, eyes drifting. He wasn't sure how to let go of that mindset. For most of his life—his past one included—thinking had been his shield, his comfort, his control.
"Let's call it a day," BohLin said, giving him a small clap on the back. "Your next lesson's about to begin anyway."
"Gabby?" Floyd asked, already knowing the answer.
His father smirked. "She's been waiting in the library for nearly half an hour. You know how she gets when you're late."
Floyd winced. "Right. I'll go—uh—clean up first."
"I wouldn't bother," BohLin called after him with a chuckle. "She'll probably dunk your head in a water spell anyway."
—
The family library was one of the most refined spaces in the manor—lined with ancient tomes, scrolls, and books thick with leather covers. Magic runes glimmered faintly across the spines, giving the air a subtle, charged buzz. The scent of parchment and fresh ink mingled with a deeper hum of arcane power.
And at the center of it all, seated at a long table stacked with books and glowing diagrams, was Gabby Fox.
She was the family's resident mage—a former adventurer, now a scholar with a body that made noblemen forget their last names. Today, she wore her usual fitted robes, violet trimmed with gold, hugging her body in just the right ways. Her long reddish-brown hair was tied back in a thick braid that swung gently as she turned.
"You're late," she said without looking up, quill still moving. "Again."
Floyd rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sword practice ran long."
She finally glanced up, piercing blue eyes narrowing as they took him in. Then her lips quirked up slightly. "You stink of effort. At least you're not slacking."
He blinked. "Is that... a compliment?"
"It's the closest you'll get from me today," she replied, standing and walking around the table toward him.
Floyd swallowed as she approached. Her presence always felt overwhelming—equal parts intimidating and alluring. She was a woman of high knowledge and high standards, and something in her gaze told him she was always evaluating, always peeling back layers.
"Let's see what you've been working on," she said, producing a small orb of light between her fingers. "Show me your conduit manipulation."
Floyd raised his palm and focused, summoning a sigil in the air. A stream of golden light poured from his fingertips, taking shape like molten glass. Gabby observed carefully, her hands on her hips, her eyes flicking between the glyphs and Floyd's face.
"You're not channeling from the elemental core," she said. "You're siphoning too much from your raw aura again."
"I thought that was okay?"
"It is—for now. But if you rely on raw aura too much, your spellwork will be brute force instead of elegant. You'll burn through energy faster than you need to."
Floyd frowned, eyes narrowing in concentration. "So how do I balance it?"
Gabby stepped behind him, placing a hand over his. Her body pressed lightly to his back, and Floyd's breath caught. She was warm, her perfume like lavender and fresh smoke.
"You guide it," she said, her voice low, soft near his ear. "Like a river. Let the natural core feed the glyph first, then support it with your aura. Don't rush it."
Floyd swallowed again, focusing not just on the spell but on ignoring how close she was—how her chest pressed softly against him, how her fingers glided down his arm as she shaped his hand.
"Better," she murmured. "Now stabilize... there."
The spell brightened, smooth and steady. He felt it like a song in his veins, a harmony between elements and essence.
"You're a quick learner," she whispered, stepping back, the warmth of her body vanishing.
He exhaled sharply, his hands still trembling.
Gabby turned away, hiding a faint smile. "But you still need discipline. I want you to review the Sigils of Cascade and replicate their functions by tomorrow."
Floyd blinked. "All of them?"
She tilted her head with mock sweetness. "Unless you'd rather I hold your hand again."
His cheeks colored. "No, I'll... get to it."
Gabby laughed softly, her eyes glinting. "Good boy."
—
That night, Floyd sat in his room, papers and spellbooks spread around him. His thoughts weren't just on glyphs, however. They drifted to Gabby—her touch, her instruction, the way she challenged him with a mix of heat and intellect. She was complicated—brilliant, confident, and unafraid to press boundaries.
He realized something then.
He liked that.
He liked the way she didn't treat him like a child, even though he appeared to be one. She expected greatness from him—not because he was special, but because he was capable. And that made her different. Special.
He turned back to the book, tracing a finger over a diagram. There was so much more to learn. Magic. Combat. The world. The people in it.
A gentle breeze swept in through the window, rustling the pages.
Outside, the moon was rising.
Inside, Floyd's mind burned with promise.
He was just getting started.
---