Zephan;
The training field is empty this early in the morning.
Just how I like it.
The rhythmic sound of steel cutting through air echoes across the grounds as I drive my sword through another sequence.
Strike, turn, step and strike again.
My muscles burn pleasantly beneath my skin, and I relish the sensation.
The feeling is the only anchoring thing I have felt in a VERY long time.
Pain is simple. It's… predictable. Unlike everything else.
The Black Sect, Balinar, the future… my family.
I drive the sword down on the dummy harder than intended, and it breaks open.
Wood splinters scatter across the ground, and I pause.
I stare at the damage for a moment before exhaling slowly.
Ever since that conversation with Father and Mother, my thoughts have refused to settle.
It keeps circling back to one thing.
The Black Sect.
Somehow… They want Elián.
The thought of it is like poison in my chest.
