The courtyard of the Southern Bastion buzzed with life, steel clashing on steel as knights trained under the watchful gaze of the sun. Elias stood at the edge, arms folded, observing the dance of blades. Days had passed since the funeral. Since Roran's final words. The warfront had gone quiet, and Elias had been reassigned—temporarily—to the Southern Bastion for recovery and reassessment.
He hated the silence.
But it was there, in that quiet sunlit courtyard, that fate spun a different kind of battle for him.
"Elias, you're up next," barked the senior trainer, his voice gruff.
"Against who?" Elias asked, tying his gauntlets.
The trainer smirked. "Lady Serana."
A woman stepped forward from the training line. Auburn hair tied back. Azure eyes that burned like magic itself. Her armor was lighter, etched with rune lines that shimmered faintly. She was elegance and lethality wrapped in the frame of a knight.
"You're Elias?" she asked, voice calm but sharp.
"I am," he replied, raising a brow. "Didn't expect to spar someone so…"
"Don't say 'delicate.'"
"…confident."
She grinned. "Good answer."
They circled, blades drawn. A respectful silence fell upon the courtyard.
The clash began.
Elias was fast—every strike calculated, every dodge instinctual. But Serana was something else. She didn't just move—she flowed. Her sword glowed faintly with magic, each parry humming with energy. Her strikes weren't just strong; they disrupted his rhythm, sapping his momentum.
He swung high.
She ducked low, fire lacing her gauntlets as she launched upward, forcing Elias back.
He tried to feint.
She predicted it, catching his blade mid-air with a rune-infused barrier and disarming him with a precise twist.
Steel clattered against stone. Elias stood disarmed, chest rising and falling.
Serana lowered her blade. "Yield?"
Elias laughed breathlessly. "With honor."
Applause followed from the other knights. The trainer nodded in approval.
Later, they sat on the edge of the wall, cooling down.
"You're not just a knight," Elias said, sipping from his flask. "You're a mage-knight."
"I am," she nodded. "Born with affinity to fire and kinetic magic. The Kingdom doesn't usually allow dual-trainings, but I proved… persuasive."
Elias chuckled. "I believe it."
A pause stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy.
"You fought at Vellmore, didn't you?" she asked.
His smile faded. "Yeah."
"I heard about what happened. Roran was… well-known."
Elias nodded slowly. "He talked too much. Laughed too loud. But gods, he fought like he had nothing to lose."
"I'm sorry," she said genuinely.
"Me too."
Silence again.
"Can I ask you something?" Serana said.
"Sure."
"Why do you still fight?"
That question. The one Elias had been asking himself.
He exhaled. "Because if I stop, all I'll have left is a memory. And that's not enough to protect the people still breathing."
She studied him. "That's a good reason."
"What about you?"
Serana looked away, toward the distant horizon. "Because someone once told me that power should never sleep. And I have power. I intend to stay wide awake."
They trained together again the next day. And the day after that. Sometimes Elias won. More often than not, she did. But with each bout, something shifted.
It was in the way she smiled before striking. The way he braced, not for defense, but for the spark in her laugh when he countered.
Weeks passed, and missions returned.
They fought side by side—on patrols, on escorts, in skirmishes that left their blades soaked and armor chipped.
In one ambush, Elias shielded her from a surprise spell.
In another, she dragged him from a collapsing cave with fire erupting from her palms.
They bled together.
They healed together.
One night, under the pale glow of twin moons, Elias handed her a pendant—simple, with the sigil of the Third Vanguard engraved.
"What's this?" she asked.
"A reminder," he said. "Of where I came from. Of who I lost. And… maybe, of who I found."
She looked at him for a long time. "I'll wear it. But only if you promise not to go easy next spar."
He grinned. "I wouldn't dare."
She leaned closer. "Good."
Their lips met.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't frantic. It was fire meeting steel. Magic meeting resolve.
In each other, they found a battlefield worth returning to.
The war hadn't ended. The rot Roran spoke of still lurked beneath the Kingdom's gold-plated smile. But Elias no longer walked alone.
He had a partner.
A flame beside his sword.
And together, they would carve a new story.
One that didn't end in silence.
But in defiance.
And in love.