Tap! Tap!
The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty corridor.
Tap! Tap!
After speaking with Nyra, Alaric had found himself walking again, with no particular destination in mind.
Though he couldn’t quite explain why.
Staying on the balcony and resting had somewhat calmed his nerves, but he still felt restless.
There was still a strange pressure thrumming beneath his skin. Not quite anger, not quite peace. Just... high-strung. Like a sword drawn but not swung.
Then he halted.
Before him lay the courtyard, bathed in pale moonlight, flanked by hedges and half-wild flower beds. A few lanterns flickered on the stone walls, their flames barely dancing in the gentle night breeze.
That breeze passed over him again, tousling his obsidian-black hair.
He stepped forward, boots brushing the dewy grass, and moved toward the center of the courtyard and exhaled deeply, letting the cool air fill his lungs.
Then he extended his hand, and with a shimmer of light, a sleek blade materialized from his inventory. The familiar weight in his grip brought him a sense of calm.
He stepped forward, planting his feet on the grass as he shifted into a stance.
His fingers tightened around the hilt.
And began his swordplay routine.
Slash!
Swing!
He moved without hesitation, each motion deliberate, carving through the invisible weight pressing on his chest.
His breaths deepened.
Strike.
Turn.
Pivot.
Flow.
The blade cut through the night air with deadly grace.
The sensation inside him, the strange rush, began to unravel, bled away by the rhythm of the sword.
Then—
[Fireblade!]
Crimson flames erupted along the sword’s edge, painting arcs of fire through the darkness as he moved.
"Haa..."
He exhaled heavily, breath coming in short bursts as he stopped after a few more swings. The flames around his blade flickered once before vanishing into thin air.
"Still can’t maintain it for more than a minute," he muttered under his breath, frustrated but accepting. He returned the blade to his inventory with a soft pulse of light.
Just as he turned to leave—
"Can’t sleep?"
He halted at the familiar voice.
Turning his head, he saw Selene standing at the edge of the corridor.
Barefoot, wrapped in a silk robe, her long hair spilling over one shoulder like a dark river.
She stepped forward slowly, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound between them.
Alaric straightened up, brushing dust from his sleeve.
"I suppose it’s the same for you."
Selene gave a faint smile, her eyes tired but warm.
"Yeah. Too much on the mind lately," she said quietly. "It’s hard to find rest when everything keeps moving."
Alaric raised a brow but said nothing.
She walked past him and turned her gaze upward, to the bright, pale moon hanging like a silver coin in the star-studded sky.
"It’s beautiful tonight," she murmured. "Almost feels like the world’s pretending to be at peace."
Alaric followed her gaze to the luminous orb above, then nodded thoughtfully.
"The moon always is," he said softly, his voice composed. "But beauty doesn’t mean peace. Sometimes, it just makes silence look less empty."
Selene looked at him, only to see Alaric gazing upward.
She followed his line of sight briefly, then turned away, her black hair swaying with the motion as she walked toward a bed of moonlit flowers.
"Let’s have a walk," she murmured. "It helps clear the mind."
Alaric gave a slight nod and fell into step beside her.
They walked through the garden in silence.
Though Alaric couldn’t help but notice the troubled expression that had settled on her face—a subtle downturn of her lips, a distant look in her eyes.
"Something bothering you?" he finally asked.
Selene gave a side glance, her expression unreadable. "No," she replied after a beat and curled her lip into a slight smirk.
"What? Worried about me?"
Alaric shook his head, eyes forward.
"No. I’m just surprised to see you down like that."
Selene gave him a glance, her expression unreadable. Then she looked away again.
"Well, I’m human after all," she said dryly.
Alaric glanced at her. "You can tell me what it’s about, if you want."
Selene shook her head dismissively. "It won’t make much difference."
"I could help," Alaric said simply.
That made her halt mid-step.
For a second, she stood still. Then she sighed deeply and in a graceful motion, she stepped closer to a flowerbed.
She crouched slightly, fingers brushing along the edge of a violet bloom.
She leaned in, inhaling its faint, sweet scent, almost as if grounding herself with the simplest thing in reach.
"You know about the Phoenix Trials, right? Varell and I initiated one last month. The date is set for the day after tomorrow."
Alaric raised a brow. "So, you couldn’t find a champion?"
Selene shook her head, frustration creeping into her usually controlled voice. "No. I had it all planned. Thoroughly. Every piece in place."
Her fingers tightened around the flower’s stem, but she didn’t pluck it. She stared at it, as if it had answers.
"But... due to certain complications, they won’t be able to participate."
"Someone interfered?"
She didn’t deny it. Just said, "Let’s call it... inconvenient timing."
She straightened up, dusting off her dark dress, and turned to continue walking. But Alaric’s voice made her freeze mid-step.
"Then make me your champion."
She paused, blinking once before slowly turning, her eyes widening slightly in genuine surprise at his unexpected offer.
Before she could speak, he added with a light smirk, "I’m strong, you know."
Selene studied him for several long seconds.
I know you’re strong, but it’s not about that.
She shook her head slowly. "It’s not that simpl—"
She stopped mid-sentence as a new thought struck her.
Wait...
A glint flickered in her eyes.
This could actually work.
A calculating smile began to tug at her lips.
"Alright, my champion," she murmured under her breath, just loud enough for the nearby flowers to hear. "Then you’d best be prepared for what’s coming."
Inwardly, she felt a familiar thrill of a plan coming together.
Killing two birds with one stone.