image [https://i.imgur.com/WxgkjSv.png]In the quiet halls of Samille's Garrison, the clang of swords echoed as Mila and Samille trained tirelessly. At first, Mila's grip on the sword was unsteady, her movements hesitant. Yarine, watching from the sidelines, often teased her, though a flicker of envy for Mila's progress danced in her eyes.
With each defeat, Mila adapted, refining her stance and perfecting her strikes. She had a knack for combat, soaking in every lesson with a thirst for improvement, even though defeat seemed imminent at times.
Yarine, ever observant, noticed a shadow of doubt that lingered in Mila's eyes, an uncertainty that veiled her thoughts. Despite this, Yarine chose to remain silent, believing that as the daughter of the esteemed Michael, Mila needed no reassurance from her.
Yet, as the days passed, Yarine found herself growing fond of Mila's spirit. Their interactions went beyond mere training; they had forged a bond, albeit one primarily centered around her own role as a healer for Mila's inevitable wounds.
After their sessions, Yarine would retire, her magic drained from tending to Mila's injuries. It was taxing work, but Yarine noticed a subtle improvement in her own magical abilities, a testament to her dedication.
In the solitude of her room, Yarine delved into the sacred texts, seeking solace and new spells. Among her newfound abilities was "Maximize Magic, Greater Healing," a rare and potent spell that could mend wounds with a beam of holy light, a skill coveted by many.
Another spell she mastered was "Thundershock Lightning," a formidable third-tier spell that summoned a lightning strike upon her foes. However, its effectiveness was hindered by its requirement for heavy rain, a condition that limited its use. Yarine knew that higher-tier spells would alleviate such restrictions, yet that did not deter her from her studies.
After her studies, Yarine often found herself running errands for supplies, a duty she begrudgingly accepted. Naturally, rumors of Mila's prowess spread throughout the garrison and consequently the town. Amidst the chatter of the townsfolk, whispers questioning Mila's powers reached her ears.
"How dare they accuse the daughter of Michael of black magic?" Yarine seethed inwardly.
It was evident that many people saw Mila as a threat. People would often go out of their way to discredit her and her efforts. Their rumors would spread like wildfire, yet the cause and origin for this peculiar hatred was unknown.
As Yarine made her way through the bustling streets towards the garrison, the sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the cobblestones. The day had been long, filled with errands and tasks that pulled her away from her usual duties. But as a healer, her work was never truly done.
A commotion caught her attention—a crowd had gathered around a figure lying on the ground, groaning in pain. Yarine pushed her way through the onlookers, her healer's instinct kicking in. She dropped her supplies and knelt beside the injured person, assessing the situation.
It was a young man, clutching his leg, a grimace of agony etched on his face. Yarine recognized the signs of broken bones. Without hesitation, she placed her hands gently on the injured leg, closing her eyes to focus her magic.
A soft, golden light emanated from her palms, enveloping the boy's leg. The crowd watched in awe as the bones slowly realigned themselves, the bruises fading away as Yarine's healing magic worked its wonders. Within moments, the boy's pain subsided, replaced by a look of astonishment and gratitude.
"Th-thank you," the young man stammered, his voice filled with awe.
Yarine smiled warmly, helping the boy to his feet. "Who did this to you child? And for what purpose?"
The young man hesitated, his gaze fixed on Yarine, a girl whose beauty outshone any he had seen. His humble attire betrayed his lack of wealth, but his brown eyes sparkled with admiration. As he pondered sharing his thoughts with her, he noticed the hostile glances from the crowd around them, urging caution. Aware of the potential danger, he restrained his impulse to speak, mindful of their safety. Before he could gather his words, a guard approached Yarine, clad in full plate armor from head to toe. "Priestess Yarine, I apologize as a member of the city patrol, for the disturbance you have witnessed." he said respectfully.
"Priestess Yarine?" The realization dawned on the boy. The one who had rescued him was not just any healer but a priestess, a title reserved for few. He was in the presence of authority.
Yarine waved off the guard's apology. "No need for apologies. However, I demand that such brutality be prevented in the future."
"But my lady..." The guard stammered. "I am but a mere guard..."
Turning to the guard, her expression stern, she issued a command. "Double, if not triple, the city patrol in this area. Consider it a direct order from me, acting with the authority bestowed upon me by Grismala and the King. Inform your superiors immediately. If another child suffers here, you will face consequences."
The crowd had swelled, with many onlookers in awe of someone standing up for them, while a few watched with palpable hatred that Yarine could almost taste. She turned quickly, scanning for the source of the hate, but the demon cultists she sensed had already slipped away. As she refocused, the guard stood before her, clearly bewildered.
"Priestess Yarine," he said formally, "I will convey your orders to my superiors. We will increase the city patrol in this area to prevent such incidents."
Yarine then turned to the boy, concern evident in her eyes. "Do you have somewhere to go, child?"
The boy nodded, struggling to address her. "Yes, ma'am... Priestess... Thank you again." He bowed respectfully.
"Very well then, I must be off. Please, stay out of trouble. If you find yourself in need, don't hesitate to seek me out."
With that, Yarine picked up her supplies from earlier and departed, leaving the boy with an enigmatic way to find her. What he didn't know was that as a priestess, she could sense the thoughts and emotions of anyone seeking her from miles away, making it possible for her to locate him if he desired.
A sly grin crept onto Yarine's face, a sense of satisfaction washing over her as she realized she had once again used her powers for the greater good. She gave herself a mental pat on the back, balancing the goods she was transporting, and made her way toward the garrison.
The garrison had been renovated drastically since they had first laid foot in it. Thank's to Yarine's efforts, even the tall grass surrounding the structure had been taken care of. Outside, a soldier leaned against the walls, his posture straightening as he spotted Yarine's arrival. "Priestess Yarine!" he called out, greeting her.
"Ah, on duty today, Contii?" Yarine asked knowingly as she placed the supplies on the ground.
"You bet," Contii replied with a smirk. "And guess what..."
"What?" Yarine asked curiously.
Glancing around to ensure privacy, Contii motioned for Yarine to follow him to a secluded corner outside the garrison, where he revealed a mysterious tome hidden beneath a rock. "Do you remember that special request you made a few days ago?" He asked. "Well, I finally found a copy."
Yarine's eyes widened with excitement. "You found a copy? Were you seen?"
"If I had been, I wouldn't be standing here," Contii scoffed. "Getting my hands on this wasn't a walk in the park, you know."
"Let me see it."
Contii carefully retrieved the tome with its black cover, casting a wary glance around before presenting it to Yarine. As he did, Yarine's gaze fixed on the book brought before her. With a copy of the demon scripture now in her hands, her suspicions were confirmed. "This confirms it," Yarine murmured. "The demon cult has infiltrated deep within the capital. The situation is worse than I've realized."
Yarine accepted the tome, concealing it within her robes. "I'll get to the bottom of this. Thank you, Contii."
Turning to enter the garrison, Yarine paused as Contii reached out to her. "Priestess... Be safe," he said, a note of concern in his voice.
Yarine smiled, touched by his gesture, though a hint of uncertainty lingered. "Thank you, Contii. Take care," she replied before continuing on her way.
She made her way into the garrison, dropping off the supplies in the stock room before entering her chambers. She took her seat at her study, a candle lit atop it in the corner. Placing the dark tome before her, she carefully opened its pages, her eyes drawn to the vivid red symbols and sinister demonic runes that filled its text.
The use and study of the demon scripture were strictly forbidden by all nations, and for good reason. Even a flawed copy of the true scripture could enhance a mage's magical abilities, increasing their mana. However, prolonged use of the tome risked damaging the user's soul, potentially leading to madness. To this day, only one individual had dared to touch, read, and survive the true scripture: The Witch Queen of the elves, Grismala herself.
Beside the tome, Yarine placed a parchment onto the table and began to draft a formal request to the Holy Empire. Her words were precise and to the point.
"Father Lucious, as promised, I have located the lost daughter of Great Michael. With her current abilities indicate a second to third-tier mage, she has thus far been underwhelming. Nevertheless, I believe she may become a valuable ally in the upcoming conflicts. I seek your permission to remain and further evaluate her potential, ensuring her growth.
Regarding my intelligence gathering, the situation is dire, as you suspected. I have encountered demon cultists multiple times, indicating a severe threat. It is clear the king is ill-equipped to handle this threat, and the people are suffering. I urge you to send our forces to aid Octavia in these dark times.
You've asked me to evaluate the state of our world. Though it may sound naive, I fear the Holy Empire will crumble if we remain passive in this conflict. Should Octavia fall, our resistance against the encroaching demons will crumble with it. We must be willing to forge alliances with our old enemies, setting aside our animosity towards the elves and uniting under a common cause. While this idea may seem idealistic, we must remember that our true adversaries are the demons.
I trust that you understand this, so I will not dwell on the matter further. I am confident that your holiness will make the right decisions. I believe you sent me here because you are aware of these truths. However, I must add that while the king may lack competency in governance, he is not easily deceived by demons or angels.
Regarding Grismala, she supports Mila, and by extension, I consider her an ally. That is all I wish to convey on this matter."
With her letter completed, Yarine briefly expressed her sentiments, stamping her seal onto the letter to prove its authenticity. However, as she set down her quill after final touches, her gaze lingered on the tome.
It was as if the tome beckoned to her, urging her to pick it up and delve into its secrets. Yarine felt a compelling fascination, almost a need, to explore its contents. Yet, approaching footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Hastily, she concealed the tome in a drawer, setting aside her parchment as the door opened.
In walked Mila, sweat beading on her brow. She noticed Yarine's urgency with the parchment on the table, but Yarine tried to appear composed. "Is everything alright?" Mila asked, eyeing the parchment.
"No," Yarine replied, "Have you finished your training for the day?"
"Yeah, I'm exhausted," Mila admitted, her fatigue evident.
Yarine couldn't ignore the strong odor of sweat emanating from Mila. True to her nature, she remarked, "You really need a bath."
Mila had already settled onto a stool by the door, trying to calm down. She hesitantly sniffed herself and, realizing Yarine was right, grimaced.
Yarine pointed firmly. "Go take a shower. I'm not letting you sleep here smelling like that!"
"Fine," Mila grumbled, standing up defeatedly and heading out.
Alone, Yarine grabbed her parchment and left her room, descending through the garrison and stepping outside into the now-dark evening. The moon was rising, casting a silvery glow. She glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, then cast a unique spell.
"Winds of Babilos."
The air stirred around her, and before her materialized a magnificent spirit hawk. This was a tier-five spell, one of the most powerful she could cast. The spirit hawk was a rare skill, allowing her to send messages over vast distances without fear of them being intercepted.
Yarine attached the parchment to the hawk's foot. The parchment had been imbued with magic to reduce its weight drastically, making it as light as air itself. With the parchment secured, Yarine commanded the hawk, "Take this letter to Father Lucious. Do not delay."
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
With a powerful beat of its wings, the hawk took off, soaring into the night sky with a rush of wind, on its way to deliver the message.
image [https://i.imgur.com/QC2G41D.png]
The Royal Arena, a colossal colosseum in the heart of the Octavian Empire, stood as a grand spectacle where thousands gathered to witness epic duels. Julius often scouted for talent here, seeking individuals to bolster his empire. This arena was not just a display of strength but also a lucrative asset, generating significant revenue for the kingdom with its vast seating capacity, accommodating hundreds of thousands.
At the heart of the colosseum, challengers often engaged in various contests, including team battles and encounters with monstrous foes before facing off against each other. However, the arena's current closure for renovations meant it was temporarily off-limits to the public.
Samille, eager to train Mila, had formally requested the arena for practice. Though they had practiced thus far inside the garrison, and occasionally outside, the arena provided much moving room for all parties to reach their fullest potential. Grismala, seeing her reason for the request swiftly approved, granting them exclusive use for the day. It was a secure environment, additionally shielded from prying eyes, ideal for honing their skills.
image [https://i.imgur.com/SXHe3wd.png]
"Gahhh!" Mila's cry echoed through the air as the formidable force brought on by Samille's sword collided with her shield, sending her staggering backward.
Behind the protective barrier of her shield, Mila regained her standing, frustration etched across her face. Meanwhile, Samille stood tall, her longsword in hand, cape billowing in the wind, and sunlight glinting off the polished blade. "Hiding behind a shield will do you no good!" Samille taunted, raising her weapon, intent to challenge her.
"It's easy to say that when you're so much stronger..." Mila muttered, her vexation evident as she grappled with the disadvantage she found herself in.
"Strength is gained, not given," Samille replied, poised for her next move.
As Samille charged forward, Mila abandoned her defensive stance, opting to face the oncoming assault. Their wooden swords, which were coated with metallic texture for training purposes, clashed in a dance of skill. Despite the nature of their weapons, crafted to not deliver fatal wounds, the impact was real, and Mila could feel the bruises on her shoulder from Samille's powerful strikes.
With her blade at the ready, Mila held her ground against Samille's onslaught. Each strike was met with a deflection, but the relentless attacks began to take their toll. The duel intensified, the tempo of Samille's strikes escalating with each passing moment. Sweat dripped down Mila's forehead, yet her eyes were fierce with determination, and in that very display of determination, Mila decided to unleash her full capabilities, including magic. Contemplating how to turn the tide, she invoked the arcane arts for assistance. "Airial strike!" she chanted, infusing her sword with magical energy.
In an instant, a sharp gust of wind shot towards Samille. Quick to react, She expertly distanced herself, cutting through the magical energies with precision. Though the spell's subtle nature made it hard to perceive, Samille's honed senses allowed her to discern its trajectory. With a swift motion, she sliced through the airwave, dispersing the remaining magical energies into the wind.
"Not bad!" Samille exclaimed, acknowledging Mila's magical prowess.
Mila observed Samille emerging unscathed from her magical attack, perplexity clouding her thoughts. How could her magic cut through rocks yet prove ineffective against a mere wooden sword? The question echoed in Mila's mind as Samille approached.
Undeterred, Samille launched yet another aggressive barrage of assaults, this time swifter than before. Mila struggled to parry the relentless strikes, with each strike weakening her focus, unknowingly leaving herself vulnerable. Seizing the opportunity, Samille exploited Mila's oversight, delivering a powerful kick to her abdomen. Mila soared into the air before crashing onto the ground with a cry of pain. As Mila writhed in the aftermath of the kick, Samille approached with a commanding presence, standing over Mila's body. "Yarine, heal her," Samille ordered.
Yarine, standing on the sidelines, swiftly made her way to Mila, her staff emanating a holy glow. "Greater healing..." Yarine chanted, allowing her radiant magic to cure Mila of her injuries and pain, revitalizing her body.
Mila could sense her bruises heal, a soft, warm touch taking away her pain in an instant. She had never sensed such pure magic before, which left her at awe at how powerful Yarine's faith must have been. For someone to call on holy magic, the power they wielded was parallel to how powerful their faith was. Which ultimately left Mila even more frustrated, that out of everyone in the group, she was the weakest link.
Standing over the now-healed Mila, Samille extended her hand. Mila, not wanting to appear weak, and a fit of frustration, declined Samille's arm, and helped herself to her feet. Samille watched, appreciating Mila's determination, not sensing that Mila was feeling insecure. A grin played on Samille's lips she spoke, "You've worked up quite the sweat there. Why don't you take a time out?"
"No, I'm not giving up just yet," Mila asserted.
"If that's the case, then here," Samille spoke as she handed Mila's sword back to her. "Show me what you're made of, soldier."
Mila's eyes widened, brimming with a sense of accomplishment at being acknowledged as a soldier by someone as formidable as Samille, Mila grinned back at Samille. With her wounds rejuvenated by Yarine's healing, a surge of strength coursed through Mila, fueling her.
Considering Yarine's presence and healing abilities, Mila decided to embrace a more aggressive strategy. She shifted into an offensive stance, gripping her sword with both hands to maximize the force behind her strikes. Sensing Mila's determination, Samille, for the first time throughout the battle, assumed a defensive stance, preparing for a rapid defensive maneuver based on Mila's impending attack.
Mila unleashed a powerful scream as she quickly closed in the distance and brought down her sword with all her might, channeling her fury onto Samille. The impact was intense, causing Samille's feet to dig into the dirt and her arms to tremble under the force. However, Mila had to quickly recover before she could launch her second attack. As her feet landed once more, she glanced at Samille, noticing her boots firmly planted in the soil.
"Good effort, but I still stand," Samille replied.
Mila retorted, "What are you? Some kind of monster?"
"Stronger!" Samille affirmed.
Without a moment's notice, Samille closed the distance, swiftly using her sword to strike Mila from the side. Mila was sent flying, and as Samille closed in, she delivered a powerful kick, redirecting Mila's trajectory into a stone wall of the colosseum. Gasping for breath, Mila collapsed to her knees.
"Yarineeee!" Samille called out, signaling for Yarine to go ahead with the healing process.
As Yarine approached Mila, intent on healing her, Mila raised her hand. "No!" Mila insisted, frustration evident in her voice as she sought to impress them. "I need to do this fair and square."
Appreciating Mila's resolve, Samille nodded at Yarine. "Don't heal her."
Reluctantly, Yarine returned to her position, watching on as the battle continued. The Colosseum's stone walls echoed with the sounds of their intense struggle. As Mila rose to face Samille once more, she faced her, determined to prove herself with everything she had to offer.
"Blades of Enlil!" Mila chanted, unleashing a barrage of aerial slashes towards Samille once again. However, with each slash, Samille skillfully cut through the magical energies, steadily closing the distance between them. Realizing the dire situation, Mila raised her sword, preparing to fend for herself for Samille's retaliatory attack.
Samille held nothing back, and the strength behind her sword had doubled, she was a monster, her attacks felt as if she were fending against an ogre's strength. Samille had not worked up even a drop of sweat throughout the entire duel, which frustrated Mila even further. Yet Mila was determined to give it all she had, to fight with every fiber of her being to the very end.
Mila chanted in a rush, the air around her stirred, coalescing into a shimmering shield that surrounded her. The barrier crackled with magical energies as the winds hardened to shield her. Mila felt a sense of protection and strength as she stood within its embrace, ready to face whatever Samille had to throw at her.
Mila felt a shockwave hit her as Samille's sword crashed against her shield. Though it held against Samille's overwhelming physical strength, with the second strike, the shield shattered, leaving her momentarily vulnerable. She tried to distance herself, but her body was sluggish from the earlier impact, and she couldn't move as quickly as she needed to.
Samille pressed the advantage, closing in with another strike. Mila raised her arms, trying to summon another shield, but her magic was strained and slow to respond. She braced herself for the impact, hoping to withstand the blow and find an opening to counterattack.
Using the blunt force of her greatsword, Samille struck Mila in the abdomen, sending her tumbling back several feet, gasping as the air escaped her. She lay on the ground, unable to move, badly bruised from the impact. Despite giving her all, it seemed her efforts were never enough. She wondered if she would ever be able to overcome her opponent, and her conclusion was a resounding no.
As Samille approached, Yarine swiftly began casting her healing magic on Mila's wound. Samille, leaning on her sword's hilt, looked down at Mila, who noticed a small hint of sweat on Samille's brow.
"You're making progress, you know that, right?" Samille said.
Mila's incredulous response was almost a question. "You're kidding?"
"No," Samille replied, her voice earnest. "I mean it. You're getting much stronger. I can feel your power growing with each session."
"Is that so?" Yarine interjected, continuing her healing spell.
Mila remained silent, prompting Samille to elaborate. "When we first started, you could barely hold a sword correctly. Your stance was all wrong," she said, casting her gaze into the distance. "Do you remember how you used to stand?" she asked with a hint of jest.
"Yes, and I also remember you tossing me aside as you just did now."
Samille scoffed, "But that was from a mere kick! I have to use more force now. See, there's clear improvement."
Mila's wounds had healed slightly, allowing her to sit up straight while Yarine continued to heal her. Looking up at Samille, Mila said, "I can sense that I'm getting stronger. But I feel conflicted inside."
"Conflicted?" Samille asked, with Yarine listening closely.
"Yes, conflicted. I feel the pressure everyone's putting on me. It's like I'm supposed to be some sort of chosen one destined to save this world or something. I'm just a half-elf!"
"And yet, you're also Michael's daughter," Yarine added.
Mila sighed. "What of it? I never asked for any of this. Do you think I wanted to fight, to live a life of constant fear?"
"It's rather late for regrets, Mila," Samille said, sitting down on the ground, her knees folding under her. "Listen, I'm not going to be some kind of spiritual healer for you, but I will tell you this. What we do here is to protect our people, our loved ones. Do you think the demons care if you're an elf or not? Look at Tasildor and how they burned a city with hundreds of thousands of elves to the ground. Do you think those people wanted to fight? No, they never asked for it either."
Seeing that Mila was not following her, she continued. "What I'm trying to say is, what we do is a reaction. We are not the instigators. We fight in response to the aggression of the demons."
"That still... isn't... helping..." Mila replied though understanding the point Samille attempted to make.
Yarine scoffed inside as she listened to Mila's selfishness. To her, power was a great responsibility to be held in order to protect the people, yet from her view, all Mila cared about was herself. Though after sensing Mila's unease spoke, "We should be grateful for the opportunity to serve the realm and the heavens. Mila, this fear you feel, I must ask, what is it really from? Yourself? Us? Grismala? Whom do you fear?"
Mila remained silent. She feared that Yarine and Samille would leave her, the same way she had lost Graybeard. She feared not living up to the expectations set onto her. However, her greatest fear lay deep within her heart, a fear she never wanted to see come true.
Mila's silence gripped the hearts of both Yarine and Samille, who awaited her response with trepidation. The silence lingered, stretching until they could almost hear the rhythm of their own heartbeats. Mila struggled, delving deep within herself to uncover her true fears. It felt like navigating through a thick fog that obscured her judgment, her vision, and her thoughts. The more she searched for answers, the more elusive they became, slipping further away like shadows in the night. She felt herself teetering on the edge of an abyss, reminiscent of the void she sensed beyond the Void Gates. Her concentration was so intense that her eyes had closed, shutting out the outside world.
Yarine and Samille felt a malevolent force enveloping Mila, as if darkness itself had taken hold of her. They exchanged a concerned glance before turning their gaze back to Mila, who remained still with her eyes closed, deep in meditation.
"Are you... sure it was wise to ask that?" Samille ventured cautiously.
"She needs to confront whatever she's hiding from. It's the only way she'll find peace," Yarine replied, her voice tinged with worry.
"A dark past, perhaps?"
"Mila? The daughter of an archangel with a dark past?" Yarine raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"It's not beyond the realm of possibility, considering..." Samille's voice trailed off.
"Let's not speculate on things that never happened," Yarine cautioned, her tone firm.
Yarine, undeterred, turned her attention back to Mila. She sensed a deep well of sorrow within her, but there was something else, something she couldn't quite grasp. Out of concern, Yarine reached out her hand and softly chanted, "God, heavens, bless this humble soul, cleanse her of the darkness that torments her..."
A gentle, radiant glow surrounded Mila as Yarine's hand made contact with her shoulder. Mila's eyes flew open, wide with surprise. "Stop that... I didn't ask for your help," she said, her voice filled with defiance.
Yarine stepped back, surprised by Mila's swift reaction. The dark energies she had sensed earlier were now gone, but there was something unsettling in Mila's demeanor. "Mila, are you alright?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
"I know now... what I fear," Mila replied, her voice steady.
Yarine and Samille exchanged a glance, both leaning in attentively. "And what is that?" Yarine inquired gently.
"The only thing I fear... is losing Graybeard."
Yarine felt a tug of disbelief at the response. It sounded like something Mila would say, and yet, it felt hollow, lacking the depth of true conviction. "Oh, I see," she said, her voice carefully neutral.
"You needn't worry. With Grismala's protection, Graybeard will be safe," Samille reassured her.
Yarine couldn't resist a playful jab. "You're a buffoon," she teased.
"A buffoon? Are we resorting to name-calling now?" Samille retorted, a playful grin on her face.
"You're more than that, you're an idiot," Yarine replied, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Samille stood up, feigning offense. "Why, you little—"
Before she could finish, Yarine darted away, laughter bubbling from her lips. Samille chased after her, the scene unfolding into a lighthearted pursuit. Mila watched them go, a soft smile tugging at her lips, though her eyes betrayed a deeper contemplation.
Mila's voice was barely a whisper as she spoke to herself, her words tinged with sorrow and uncertainty. "Can I... ever trust them?" She paused, a heaviness in her chest. "Gray... I'm sorry. I failed you," she murmured, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I feel so alone without you. You were the only one I could trust... and now you're gone. I don't know where to turn..."
Her voice quivered with emotion as she continued, a sense of desperation creeping into her tone. "Please... watch over me. Guide me. I'm scared... scared of falling into darkness that seems endless..."
Despite her fear and pain, a flicker of determination sparked within her. "But... her touch... it gave me strength. Strength to see the light again. For that, I'm grateful... even if trusting others feels impossible right now."
A tear formed under Mila's eye. A smile, though soft, carried a newfound lightness as she released the weight of her despair and embraced the moment. She drew in a deep breath, savoring the crisp air as Samille returned, slightly out of breath.
"She's faster than I expected..."
"You mean she actually outran you?"Mila's expression was a mix of surprise and amusement.
Samille gave a thoughtful look. "She's quite fast..."
Mila chuckled softly, and Samille smiled, extending her hand. "Shall we call it a day, then?"
Mila's smile widened, a glint of determination in her eyes as she wiped away her worries. She mentally thanked Graybeard for giving her the strength to move forward. Taking Samille's hand, she replied, "Let's keep training."