Caim’s eyes shot open. Though his breathing was steady, his heart was still racing. His left hand was clenched tightly as if holding something dear, but upon opening it, only cool air filled an empty space. He took a long, deep breath, slowed his heart rate, and smiled wildly, revealing two sharp fangs.

The first light of dawn burned softly on the distant horizon, and the trees of Neverend stirred before the breeze. For a good long moment, Caim took in the distant sunrise, remembering the feeling of the bell in his hand. They had done it. What had felt like a blink of time, had in reality, taken them the entire night.

Storm was to his left, still floating, with his face hidden beneath his hood. He, as well, slowly opened his hand, as if what lay within was more important than his own life. Yet there was nothing in his palm but the memory of a great weight.

“I can’t believe it . . .” Storm whispered. “We did it.”

Despite his pure exhaustion, Storm felt like he had just emerged from a thousand-shade meditation. Taking a long, soothing breath, he found his focus. It was not meditation they were emerging from. It was not anything so tranquil and peaceful. They were emerging from the world of Inner Depths: a sleeping world within one’s own mind. It was a world that, in many ways, was unexplainable, one born of their emotions, fears, and memories.

Storm toyed with the thought in his mind. He had never fully understood what it was or how it worked, but he thought of it as a separate world within one’s mind that one could enter, if they had completed the proper training for the technique.

Storm understood only a few things about the strange practice. He knew that Inner Depths was a world that all sorians had sleeping within their own individual minds, yet most were unaware of it, and were thus unable to find it, let alone enter it. It was highly probable that the vast majority of sorians did not even know it existed. It was a place of overwhelming difficulty to reach, and was only accessible through cycles of rigorous training and the passing of certain stages. He also knew to the best of his knowledge that the creator of the technique was their own grandfather, and that it had taken Storm himself nearly two full cycles before he had glimpsed his own world for the first time.

They’re so different, he thought, thinking of his own world in comparison to Ronin’s.

Storm suppressed a shiver as he recalled the catastrophic state of Ronin’s world. It had been so real. He could still nearly feel the scorching heat of the flames, the bite of the ice, and the sharp of their blades. A few more seconds and they would have succumbed and fallen. It would have meant their deaths, or perhaps, something even worse.

Storm glanced down at their three swords poked into the ground. He figured that the weapons were the link and connection between them to the world they had entered. He remembered Ronin telling them that all of their swords had to be touching, and felt the answer taking shape in his mind. Not only did one need complete mastery of oneself, and the technique, but it seemed also the touch of something that linked them all together.

Storm looked at Ronin, his faded black cloak hanging from his shoulders in a kingly fashion. His eyes were still closed, as though lost in a distant meditation. His gaze ran over a tattoo on Ronin’s chest, a light crow circling above a dark one.

Storm pondered the true extent of their grandfather’s ability. Accessing one’s own Inner Depths was one thing, but pulling others into your own mind was another thing entirely—a technique that only their grandfather had mastered. Despite their long and difficult training, neither Caim nor Storm had ever ventured into each other’s worlds. But that didn’t matter to Storm.

They had done it.

They had beaten the old man.

A sudden feeling of mirth surged through his heart and mind. After so many cycles of training and fighting and failing, they had finally completed their final test. Storm felt his smile widen, taking in the moment of triumph. At last, he was a fully-fledged swordsman, once and for all.

“Yosha!” Caim cried out, as if reading Storm’s mind. “We did it! We really did it!”

Storm heard Caim’s voice carry out across the sky, and from the treetops of Neverend flew a flock of bright blue birds. Caim laughed at his noteworthy accomplishment. The look on Caim’s face was childish and pure and beautiful, and Storm couldn’t help but smile.

Ronin opened his eyes to the sight of blue birds flying. He looked over at Caim, clearly overjoyed and triumphant, and then at Storm, who seldom showed his emotions. This was a moment Ronin had long sought, yet all the while, was never sure if he would actually live to see the day. For a second, he shook his head, unable to believe the truth of it, but the memory of the two boys holding the bells underneath the moon resonated strongly in his mind. He had made the right choice.

“Well, I must say . . .” began their grandfather.

Caim looked up in anticipation. Storm’s ears perked out from under his hood.

“You boys really are full of surprises,” he laughed. “I suppose I can finally consider both of you strong. But don’t let it get to your heads! There is always more to learn, and more challenging things to overcome.”

“Never underestimate our awesomeness!” declared Caim. He laughed and rested his hands on the back of his head, staring off at the sunrise. He could feel the warmth on his face like fire on a cold night.

Ronin ran his fingers through his long black hair. “Well, that was quite the play of theatrics at the beginning, Storm. But turns out you had to work with your brother all along in the end.”

Storm smirked. “It may not have worked, but you can’t deny our success, nonetheless.”

Ronin took in the sight of his grandsons. “I have to say, at the end, with the world’s destruction rising . . . you two really came together as one. Although it’s shameful to think, a piece of my mind was convinced it might never happen. I suppose apologies are in order for my doubt, as you two proved me to be completely wrong.”

“Told you not to underestimate us, old man,” said Storm. A strange feeling overcame him at the sound of his own voice. The thought of their training being complete was almost unfathomable. Everything they had worked for since they were little kids . . . all the sweat and blood lost, all the sleepless nights and mental torture, — or so it felt at the worst of times — was all over.

It’s . . . over, Storm thought, feeling a sudden touch of sadness. I can’t believe it.

Ronin’s eyes darkened. “You did it again,” he said, eyeing Storm like a hawk. “And don’t think I have forgotten all the times you did it while we were fighting in Inner Depths, Storm.”

Storm looked up at Ronin, feigning an innocent look. He knew what was coming.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” said Ronin, standing and rolling up his sleeves. His eyes grew colder as he walked closer. Caim took one, then two, then three far steps away from Storm.

“I’m . . . not . . . OLD!” Ronin roared at the top of his lungs.

WHOOSH!

Storm ducked just in nick of the time, dodging the old man’s fist. Over and over, Ronin’s punches broke the air faster than the eye could see, but Storm laughed, leisurely dodging the blows time and time again.

“Take it easy, old man, you’ll pull a muscle,” Storm jeered as he dodged another blow.

“You have an incredibly sharp mind, Storm,” said Ronin, continuing his barrage. “Everything you chose to say to me in the beginning stemmed from truth. And I know a part of you really does feel that way. But it did not avail you, did it? Despite the flawlessness of your performance, it did not unfold with the climactic ending you had intended. Ultimately, it came down to raw grit, trust in your brother, and the resolve to never give up.”

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

“Honestly, I thought if I just called you an old man enough times, you would just break down and start crying, forfeiting the win to us in the meantime.” Storm couldn’t hold back his stupid grin. In the next instant, Ronin vanished, and Storm felt a solid blow take him in the stomach.

“Never forget, Storm,” said Ronin, pulling him close. “That planning is an essential part of moving forward, but it is more often than not that plans do not unfold as one hopes. Your true gifts, both of you, are your passion and indomitable spirits. There is no plan that could have overcome my final challenge. Only those with the Soul of the Swordsmen could have done it, a trait that I now know both of you to possess.”

Storm spun away from Ronin, throwing a spinning kick back at him, which the old man easily dodged. “You hit like a baby tree spirit,” Storm spit on the ground. “Think you might be losing all that strength in your ancient age, good sir.”

“A baby tree spirit, ka?” Ronin laughed, loud and true, before charging at Storm.

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One of Ronin’s blows came quite close, blowing Storm’s hood back onto his shoulders. He shook his black hair from his eyes, and the face of a teenage boy with a bright green gaze came into the light. Just like that, Storm vanished, and Ronin felt a blow strike his left side.

“Always going on about the Soul of the Swordsmen,” said Storm, tapping his fist into Ronin’s side, “but maybe, at the end of the fight, we were just stronger than you. Plain and simple.” Storm felt something solid grasp his wrist. Before he knew it, Storm was lying on the ground, looking up into Ronin’s eyes.

“Even if you don’t believe it, you have it,” said Ronin, tapping Storm over the heart with two fingers.

As Caim watched the two of them, he realized something. Feeling around his own body for his injuries, his eyes grew more and more bewildered. He could plainly remember the horrible picture of the caneblade protruding out of Storm’s gut.

“Ugh, Storm? Doesn’t that hurt? Shouldn’t you be pretty close to dead?” Caim asked, holding his fingers over his ribs. “You took the most blows out of all of us, and you were all covered in blood.” Then, as if the answer to his question had been obvious the whole time, Caim’s eyes narrowed with the sense of betrayal.

“Wait, did you . . . did you get a new power!?” Storm turned to face Caim, and Ronin looked up. “You did, didn’t you!?” Caim continued. “I knew it! You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Hey!” Caim pointed at Ronin. “Don’t tell me you’ve been secretly training him in some secret swordsman society that I was secretly not invited to! Is it true!?” Before Ronin could answer, Caim answered his own question. “It must be . . . that’s why you’re so silent, isn’t it?”

Storm stood idly to his feet, brushed himself off, and started walking towards Caim, who took a cautious step backward. “What are you . . . a wizard!?” Caim cried out.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Storm exhaled, unable to fathom his brother’s inability to think. Ronin was busy catching his breath after chasing Storm around.

Storm glanced back at Ronin. “Maybe you should take a seat. You look tired, old man.”

“Have the airs of my youth abandoned me so!?” Ronin bellowed, raising his clenched hands to the sky. Another flock of blue birds rose from the trees, soaring over and past the three of them.

“Yes,” said Storm bluntly, trying not to laugh. “Yes, they have. A millenia ago.”

Caim pointed at the birds. “Why do they keep doing that!?” Nothing but the flutter of wings answered his shout. He looked back at Ronin and was expecting an answer, when a big, wet drop landed right on the old man’s forehead.

Caim’s eyes grew wide. Storm’s eyes grew wider.

“You just got pooped on!” Caim fell to the ground, laughing hysterically. Storm broke out laughing alongside him as he watched the horror on their grandfather’s face unfold. Ronin, very carefully, touched his finger to his forehead, before dashing at Storm in the blink of an eye. Grabbing Storm before he could move, Ronin wiped his forehead with Storm’s sleeve.

“Oi!!” Storm shrieked, but it was too late. “Gods be damned!” Vanishing just like that, Storm reappeared by Neverend, hanging from the branch of the nearest tree. A moment later, he was sitting back on the grass, wiping the stains off his sweater with a handful of leaves.

It was a sight that brought true joy to Ronin’s face. The leaves did little more than smear the wet feces around Storm’s sleeve. Giving up, he cast Ronin an angry glare and put his hood back on. Caim continued laughing until finally he calmed down and remembered what he had learned of before.

“But wait, Storm . . . shouldn’t you be injured?”

“You always forget everything,” Storm grimaced. He tried rubbing his sweater on the grass. No luck. “Stupid old man,” he murmured. “Revenge will be sweet and plentiful . . .”

“What was that?” Ronin asked.

“Nothing,” said Storm. “I was just going to explain to Caim, again, that wounds inflicted during Inner Depths do not travel back with us. So, no matter what happens in Inner Depths, you will be fine upon returning. However—”

“You’re wrong!” Caim intervened. “You’ve got a secret new power that you didn’t want to tell me about. But you have to tell me the truth, Storm!” Caim stopped and reconsidered his strategy. “Na, Storm . . . I have a new power too, and I’ll tell you what it is, if you tell me what yours is first.”

“Caim, please, just shut up and listen. Why don’t you start by looking for your own injuries?”

Caim blinked once, then twice. He jumped to his feet, opening his vest. His chest and stomach were unscathed, bringing forth a look of bewilderment to his face. For a very long moment, he merely stood there, holding his vest wide open, perplexed.

“It would seem,” began Caim, rationalizing. “That I also have a new power! I hereby name it Super Awesome Regeneration Flux Seven, only the second-best name I’ve ever invented.”

Ronin sighed, shaking his head.

Storm took a deep breath and continued. “That is probably the most dreadful name I’ve ever heard for a technique, ever. Anyways, focus and listen. If you die in Inner Depths, it’s the same as allowing your mind to die. You will return to the normal world, but not the same. You will be a mindless person in your former body. In other words, exactly . . . like . . . you.”

“What!?” Caim said, jumping to his feet and shaking his fist at Ronin. “Old man! You were trying to kill me in there, even though you knew our minds would die and we would become exactly like you!?”

Ronin stared back nonchalantly. “Naturally.”

“I knew it!” Caim yelled, his silver hair thrashing about. “Oh, the agony of knowing!”

Storm took one look at Caim and laughed. “You look like a spiky-haired tree spirit, angry over losing one of its precious gems.”

Caim’s fuming expression suddenly vanished, and he collapsed to his hands and knees, crushed by his comparison to the pint-sized tree spirits. “But they’re so tiny,” whispered Caim in bitter defeat.

Ronin’s voice grew stern. “This isn’t a game, Caim. You have been training your entire life to master swordsmanship. If I wasn’t earnestly trying to kill you, I wouldn’t be teaching you much of anything. I would only be giving you a false sense of proficiency.”

“A false sense of prolificacy?” Caim echoed, butchering the word.

“You are training in one of the oldest arts of our world,” Ronin continued. “If you are not able to survive with the cold touch of death hovering over your shoulder, then you have no place holding that sword in the first place.”

Caim looked at his fallblade silently. It stood still, pierced into the ground before the edge of the cliff. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t transform it, he thought. Caim felt a sudden weight take hold of him, as if he had been defeated even after winning. He kept staring at the blade, wondering how strong he would have to be to unlock its second form.

“I was hoping it might stay in that form,” said Caim, finally. “I mean, when you gave it back to me.”

“Get stronger and unlock it yourself next time,” Storm said.

Ronin’s tone became still, like water beneath a windless night. “Remember, Caim, a sword is merely a weapon, a tool of destruction.” He walked over and pulled his own blade from the ground. Sliding it into his cane-like sheath, he turned to face his grandsons, resting his weight on it.

“With the training of swordsmanship, one can hone instinct and senses, come into wisdom, and mold philosophies. Death will always be a part of this cycle, and you must overcome it in more ways than one. Once your blade has seen blood, it will be forever changed. The crimson stains may be wiped clean, but the memories will live with the blade—and you—eternally. That is why Lord Fall of the Living Blades crafted the art of swordsmanship around protection. ‘The key to the strength of all swordsmen is not slaying those who are stronger, but protecting those who are weaker,’ or so he once said. We fight to protect, nothing more, and nothing less. Do not fear Death, but embrace him, for his shadow will always be ubiquitous.”

Caim focused only on the last word. “Ubi—que—tisimus?”

Storm pondered while Caim struggled over the pronunciation. He knew his grandfather’s words were harsh but true. He knew that swordsmen, true swordsmen, faced the possibility of death each time they unsheathed their blades. It was an art of mental, physical, and spiritual prowess. If a swordsman’s mind was untrained, and if, at any time, they lost focus, even for a moment, then their own life would be the cost of their weakness. He also knew the story of Lord Fall quite well, and the philosophies of swordsmanship had been carved into his mind since he was a child. Storm flexed his fist and felt his blood burn as he thought of Lord Fall and Fenrir’s strength, and secretly recited his own dream.

I will surpass all those before me. I will defeat those who deem themselves the strongest. I will become the greatest swordsman to ever live. I will climb to the top of this world, then soar before it until I become one with the stars. Storm continued clenching his fist as he stared up at the two crystal moons of their world high above. This I will do for myself.

Caim, in the meantime, voiced a question that had been bothering him ever since fighting in Inner Depths. “Grandpa, where did those monsters come from when we were fighting you? Don’t get me wrong, they were wicked cool. But they were pretty scary!”

Storm clearly remembered the volcanic titans with their pale skulls and gaping black eyes. They had had a feeling of soullessness within, something that he had never felt before. But more so than that, Storm remembered them for their sheer size. They were the biggest creatures he had ever seen, even bigger than the wicked flares hiding within the forest. A shiver crept up Storm’s spine as he thought of the flares’ seething red eyes, and he turned one eye over his shoulder to look back at Neverend.

Ronin cracked a smile. “Caim, you really do never listen. The world of Inner Depths is your world. The closer you are to mastery, the more the world becomes yours to play with. I envisioned those monsters, and thus, they came to be. Perhaps they were a part of my past, or perhaps, they are a part of my imagination. You cannot imagine all the hidden secrets of Inner Depths and what exists within. The possibilities of the world are infinite.”

Ronin took a long pause, then smiled. “But one day, if you truly master the technique, learn to enter other’s worlds at will, and allow others to enter your own, you may finally begin to glimpse the wings, and perhaps, even the true names of things.”

The wings? Storm thought, his curiosity seized. True names? What is he going on about?

Caim stared blankly at his grandfather. “So, you just created them . . . out of nothing? And wait— Is your world destroyed now for good?”

“It cannot be destroyed for good unless I am killed,” answered Ronin. “Though I suspect it will have changed significantly by the next time I venture back there. In fact—” he took a long breath as if remembering something of importance. “It had already changed for the better before I had even left.”

Storm looked at his brother with a devilish grin. “You were scared, weren’t you?”

Caim jumped to his feet and pointed his finger at his brother. “No, but I bet you were! Unless, unless you were just waiting to use your new power! Storm! Tell me about your new—”

Storm turned around, ignoring Caim, then walked away and sat down on the grass.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Storm muttered. “It’s not a new power. You’re just oblivious to the obvious.”

“What the heck, Storm? You’re obviously oblivious! You wanna fight!? I’ll take you on right now, with or without your new power! I’m not scared of anything, not even grandpa!”

Storm raised an eyebrow. “You’re scared of nothing?”

“Of course not!”

“What about that spider on your hand?”

Caim yelped, leaping into the air and landing a dozen feet away. In a quick flash, he had somehow taken up his fallblade, ready to do battle. “Come at me, spider!! On guard!”

Storm laughed. “My mistake. I guess you really were scared of nothing.”

Caim’s gaze grew sharp. “You’ll pay for that.”

“I’m sure,” said Storm, stretching out and lying on the ground without the slightest hint of worry. Just as his eyes were about to close—straight through the dimming horizontal slits that separated the dark and the light, he saw Caim descending upon him with his fist raised.

“Super Awesome Regeneration Flux Seven, don’t fail me now!”