“You just want to practice?” Sansir asked, narrow-eyed glare reaching across the intimate arena.

Ranvir shrugged. “It’ll be like the old days.”

Stones outlined their arena. Less than fifteen meters across, the circle was close enough that neither could feasibly escape each other’s Veil.

“Sparring? No talking?”

Ranvir smiled and waved his hands magnanimously, wings mirroring the motion.

“Somehow I doubt you.” Despite this, Sansir moved in anyway. Hands raised to guard his head. Ranvir smiled and mirrored his pose. The taller bald man no longer moved with the competent confidence of their youth. Many long hours of sparring among the Sleeping Sons had obviously seen him benefit. The brash skill had been worn to shape, turning to an elegant grace.

Ranvir, on the other hand, hadn’t seriously sparred without mana since leaving the academy. Even then, he hadn’t been Sansir’s equal. But he was stronger and tougher than he had any right to.

They circled each other, feet scraping over dirt. Sansir slowly drawing the gap closed, green eyes distant yet focused. Their first exchange came suddenly, taking Ranvir by surprise.

Five quick blows, the last two slipped Ranvir’s guard. Smacks of flesh turned to hollow thuds as fists rammed into his ribs. Yet, he struck out as well. Breaths already hissing in and out sharply, they pulled apart.

“What kind of training have you been up to? Something you haven’t shown us, clearly.” Sansir remarked, stretching the fingers of his left hand. A red welt had already raised on the meat of his forearm where he’d blocked Ranvir’s punch.

They had another exchanged. Then again. Things heated up. Sansir moved faster, striking harder, and Ranvir found himself returning the favor. Sweat soon stained their shirts. Despite his unrelenting endurance, even Ranvir was breathing hard and feeling the heat.

A physiological response as much as a need for resources to continue the fight. Less than five minutes after they’d started, Ranvir stepped back and dropped his guard. “Break for a few minutes?”

Dark-eyed, red-knuckled, and severe looking, Sansir slowly nodded. Lowering his hands as well, he stepped out of the ring. Hauling in deep shovel-fulls of air, Ranvir enjoyed the pained feel of his chest moving. Sansir had landed a vicious hook just below his ribs and the injury stung still.

Grabbing prepared towels and water from a pocket-space, Ranvir offered a set to Sansir.

“You’re out of practice.” The ice-tethered observed.

“You’re not.” After a moment, Ranvir continued. “There’s a lot less actual combat in high-level fighting than I anticipated.”

Sansir nodded slowly. “I spent years training with that damned axe. When I campaign with the Sleeping Sons, I wake up early to sharpen and oil it, like we’re taught. Yet, I haven’t drawn it in an actual conflict, yet.”

Ranvir shook his head. “They spent so long preparing us to fight with weapons at the academy, and it’s still the only place I’ve been able to reliably use one.”

Sansir chuckled. “You don’t prepare in case the best that could possibly happen occurs. You prepare for the worst.”

“How long could you fight before exhaustion forced you to draw the axe?”

Sansir rolled his eyes, but nodded in acknowledgment. “Days, weeks if I got enough breaks.”

Ranvir smiled and wiped the last sweat from his face.

“And you?”

“Ready for another round?”

Sansir shook his head. “I need another minute.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Though they were soon enough facing off again. The break had given Sansir time to cool off and gather his head. The struggle escalated slower. Exchanges weren’t as hard. Ranvir matched his pace. Sansir would be both the leader and set their fastest pace.

“Why’d you invite me out here?” Sansir asked, between huffed breaths.

“You’re returning to the Sleeping Sons tomorrow.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“I wanted to see my friend.”

They clashed, fists slapping bare flesh. The edge was returning to Sansir’s blows. Matching only seemed to sharpen the ice-tethered’s restless energy.

“And no other reason?” he hissed as they split. “Just to see me?”

“Just to see you.”

Jaw muscles worked on the bald man, visible far up the side of his face. Lunging forwards, he grappled with Ranvir. A mistake. Combining his superior understanding of their space with his inhuman strength, Ranvir slammed Sansir into the ground.

Gasping on the ground, Sansir stared pits into Ranvir’s eyes. Green irises burning with barely restrained energy.

Finally, he caught his breath. “You expect me to believe that?” Sansir climbed to his feet slowly.

“No,” Ranvir said, backing away until he stood outside the arena. “Break?”

Darkly, Sansir nodded. This time, the circle seemed to draw a line between them. A space which neither could step over. No taller than a grain of sand, yet impassable. In the far distance, people were approaching. A mass of them. The rest of the students. Yet more distant, though moving far faster, a streak of light.

Ignoring them, the two stepped back into the ring. This time, they took no moments to heat or gain an edge. Sansir lashed out three times, forcing Ranvir to lower his guard, then hammered his knuckles into his face.

Staggering back, Ranvir ran his tongue over his teeth. He tasted blood.

“You were sent here by Amalia, weren’t you? Checking up on me.”

“She wanted me to check on you,” Ranvir said, straightening and swallowing back the blood. “But that’s hardly necessary. I know what’s happened. I know what you’ve done.”

Shaking his head roughly, Sansir sent droplets of sweat flying from his brow. “And what is that?”

Playing defensive, Ranvir shouldered a series of strikes. Again, Sansir managed a few strikes on his sides and middle. The ice-tethered moved as viciously as ever, yet he didn’t hit as hard any longer.

“You’ve taken on Amanaris. With little understanding of the system, you’ve then found a shady group that will teach you an Ability.” Ranvir said. “Amalia said you wanted to help me, which means it’s something to help you punch up. So it costs something. A permanent sacrifice using anima to fuel its effect.”

“You think you see everything, don’t you?” Sansir snarled, lashing out.

Ranvir, seeing the blow coming, stepped in and clinched his arm against his side.

“I just see you, Sansir.”

The ice-tethered struck with his remaining free-hand. Clenched fist slapping into the flat of Ranvir’s bird-hand. The impact was hard enough to jostle the bones in Ranvir’s wrist. Yet the strike was caught.

Cold purple dug into flickering green. Green fell to the sandy ground.

“There is something I’ve been wondering about,” Ranvir admitted, the heat from Sansir’s bowed heat steaming in the chill air. “Why did you join the Sleeping Sons?”

“I’m a half blood.”

“I know why you could join them, but that’s not what I asked.”

Their deep breaths filled the silence. Already, Ranvir’s was evening out. Swaying on his feet, Sansir’s head bobbed into Ranvir’s shoulder once. Twice. Then rested against it.

“Mom used to be a camp follower on the front lines. That’s where she had me. Instead of bringing her back, he left her. He just… never saw her again. The pregnancy was hard on Mom. She never really recovered.”

Ranvir nodded. Their village was big enough that he and Sansir hadn’t really known each other as kids, but not so large he hadn’t heard rumors of her ill-health. Or her child, for that matter.

After meeting the Sleeping Sons, Ranvir realized some kind of familial connection had to be there. Yet, the way Sansir described it.

“So the Sleeping Sons joined up with Elusria after Ankiria fall.”

“I joined. They let me. Anyone with royal blood can.” He leaned back and Ranvir let his arms drop. Sansir staggered back a step, before turning to pick up his towel and water. He paused, turning to Ranvir mouth open as if to say something. He shook his head. “Thanks for the spar.”

Before the door closed behind Sansir, Ayvir landed next to Ranvir. “You alright?”

Ranvir nodded. “How did your trip go?”

“Less useful than I’d hoped, though very informative.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”

“I definitely will,” Ayvir paused, half a step away from Ranvir. “It’s good to have you back. This place has missed you. And I guess so have I.”

Ranvir snorted a laugh. “Just keep the little one off me, please?” he hadn’t been avoiding Laila or Shiri per se, he’d just happened to not run into them since returning.

Ayvir glanced at the door, clearly sensing the pre-stage warp tethered approaching.

“I think I can do that much. You are okay, right?”

Ranvir smiled and clapped his once teacher on the shoulder. “I’m doing better.”

Ayvir accepted the statement and left him, getting to the door moments after Laila swung it open. Whatever she’d sensed, she clearly hadn’t known where Ranvir was. Her eyes went wide, and she pointed.

Ayvir snatched her hand away and danced a little jig around her.

Sighing, Ranvir turned towards the group approaching on foot. Rather, the one person who was separating from the group. Black glass gathered underfoot, propelling her toward him.

“Can we talk?” Estrid asked.

“I think it’s for the best.”