Zephyr’s feet carried him forward like they belonged to someone else. The weight of Lunethra’s gaze was sharper than any blade in the room, dragging a cold sweat down his spine. His pulse was loud in his ears, and every step echoed louder than it should have in the cavernous room.
But once again he stopped just moments of reaching her, then he turned to Mr. Fisher and said. "Do we have an option to skip combat class". Zephyr didn’t care if they called him a coward, they had called him worse and if they was any chance of him of going through this day without pain he was going to take it.
Mr. Fisher voice was immediate. "Of course not. What do you think this class is, it’s essential when you are going to fight against human and riftsprawn alike".
Zephyr continued to walk, his feet were like lead and after what seems to be an eternity he finally arrived in front of her, all around her the smell of rose licked the air.
"So what’s your dominant hand". Mr. Fisher asked the same question he has been asking the rest of the students since the beginning of this class.
"Right". Zephyr was taken aback when he heard the cold voice.
’Its the first time I have ever heard her speak. And it’s beautiful if I might add’. This was the first time he have heard her speak and now come to speak of it the only person he had talked to was Keal and the only person who had talked to him apart from Keal was Mr. Fisher.
All the hate filled look, the hate filled comments, all the chattering back in his dorm he haven’t really paid attention to all that. In his mind they were one faceless entity.
"Zephyr please answer the question, the rest of your class mates are really getting impatient". Mr. Fisher pulled him out of his thoughts.
’Why wouldn’t them be impatient, waiting for me to be smacked around’. Zephyr turned to look at his left hand. ’There’s no way I will be able to fight using my left’. Then an idea came to his mind.
"My left". Zephyr lied with a straight face.
"Your left?". Mr fisher didn’t seem to buy the story.
"Yeah my left". Zephyr was starting to get worried. ’Please by my fish tale, at least you no longer have to catch fishes today’.
"Well ok use it".
"Yes sir I wi— did you say to use my left?". Zephyr was confused this wasn’t how the script was supposed to go.
"Well I have thought about it, you are the weakest in class and I think it would be fair if you played by your strength until you also became an Elpison". Mr. Fisher said with a grin that seems to split his face in half.
Zephyr stared blankly at Mr. Fisher for a while before he mechanically turned his head to face Lunethra. The impatience in her eyes had spilled onto her delicate face.
"You know the rules, and now without further ado, let the last battle of today began". It was like Mr. Fisher had vanished leaving only his voice behind, but that was the least of his concern right now.
The moment the word left Mr. Fisher’s mouth, Lunethra was already moving.
She didn’t charge—she appeared. One blink and she was there, dagger sweeping like a silver arc toward his throat.
But Zephyr wasn’t too far behind as soon as the words of Mr. Fisher fell he willed his Aether. The drifting Aether above his blood and veins sank in, instantly his strength, speed and reaction time became heightened. And then he involuntary took a step back.
Zephyr brought his blade up and positioned it defensively across his neck, bracing for the inevitable impact. He readied himself—not to strike, but to endure. A dangerous gamble, but one he thought would at least anchor him.
But Lunethra didn’t go for the obvious.
With a flick of her wrist, elegant and brutal, she changed angles at the last second. Her dagger veered away from his throat and instead sliced toward his wrist—the one holding his weapon.
He reacted a heartbeat too late.
Pain flared as steel kissed flesh. The blade sank just beneath the skin of his wrist, a clean, shallow cut—but enough to make his fingers falter, enough to shake his grip. He hissed and stumbled back on instinct.
Lunethra didn’t pursue. She stepped away—not in retreat, but in control—as if granting him space to process, or perhaps inviting him to reflect.
And reflect he did.
Zephyr stood there, wrist bleeding lightly, body tense with the memory of the strike. But what struck deeper was not the blade—it was the realization.
’I moved back.’
The thought echoed like a bell in a canyon.
His breath caught. His eyes widened in disbelief, not at her speed or precision—those were expected. But at himself. At what he’d just done.
In his last encounter with Lunethra, he had made himself a vow— I won’t back down again. I won’t retreat. No more flimsy defenses. No more fear.
And yet, here he stood, the sting in his wrist nothing compared to the one in his chest.
He had recoiled.
Not out of strategy.
But instinct.
Retreat.
His fingers clenched tighter around the handle of his dagger despite the pain. Shame bubbled up from somewhere deep and bitter, curling in his gut.
Across from him, Lunethra stood calm, unreadable. ’I got to stop letting my fear hold me back, Zephyr had been surviving in the pit from the age of five. They is no way his not skilled". Zephyr was annoyed at himself, he was sure that the master mind behind his cowardly behavior was his mentality of being fearful of pain.
He observed as her body tensed and poises for another collision.
She moved and instead of moving backwards like he always do, he moved forward halting her in the midst of her attack.
Clang!
He caught it. Perfect parry. His arm vibrated from the force, but he was already countering with a rising elbow aimed at her ribs. She twisted midair—how?—and landed like a feather just behind him.