The lanterns above the old training ground buzzed with soft mana, casting slow-drifting shadows across the cracked stone floor. This place was quiet, tucked behind the eastern wing of the library, where very few still came to train. The mural on the far wall, once vibrant with golden paint and reverence for the city's founding, had dulled to a faded grey wash. It was the kind of space that didn't demand effort, just presence.
Silas arrived first. As always. He didn't rush, nor did he drag his steps. There was a rhythm to him lately, an intent behind his movements that wasn't quite calm but wasn't frantic either. It was controlled. He stepped onto the padded floor, exhaled, and rolled his shoulders. His effigy stood nearby, already summoned, though its limbs were still recovering from the last round of experimental spellcraft. The damage was subtle—a thin fracture across the forearm, a lingering distortion near the spine. Nothing fatal. But Silas felt it.
He sat cross-legged in the far corner, resting his hand over the amulet —a quiet weight. The Fate-bound relic never pulsed, never moved, but its presence still gnawed at him. Not dangerously, just insistently. Like a whispered idea that wouldn't go away.
He closed his eyes. Focused. He would not test anything new today.
Not yet.
Velira arrived soon after, her steps light, her energy unmistakably buoyant. She wore her training garb with sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair tied up, and a stubborn gleam in her eye.
"Thought you'd be pacing holes into the floor," she said, tossing a book onto the mat near Silas. He cracked an eye open and gave a dry smile.
"You think too little of me. I haven't even chewed my fingernails off yet."
"Yet," she echoed, smirking.
Her effigy hovered nearby, newly refined and looking leaner than before. The water path materials she'd integrated gave it a fluidity to its movement, almost like it flowed rather than walked. Velira had spent hours tuning it, and it showed.
Cass arrived last. Quiet, composed, with that ever-thoughtful look that never quite left his face. His cathedral uniform had been swapped for practical robes, fitted for movement. The glow around him was subtle, a shimmer of mana that hung around his shoulders like a mantle.
"Hope I didn't keep you waiting, " he said, nodding at the both of them.
"Only long enough to imagine at least four elaborate reasons why you weren't coming," Velira said with mock severity.
Cass raised an eyebrow. "All four involved deadly curses, didn't they?"
"One was an insect infestation, actually."
They laughed, even Silas.
---
The training began simple. Just spells. No sparring, no pressure.
Velira's Practice: She demonstrated her newly carved water spells. The first was "Glide Vein," a spell that let her effigy slide across terrain with bursts of compressed moisture underfoot. The second, "Hydrobrace," hardened moisture into temporary armor plating over key joints. The third, "Iceflick Lance," let her form short-range projectiles from excess water.
She struggled at first to keep all three spells active while commanding her effigy in motion, but she gritted her teeth through it.
"It's like... juggling while someone keeps tossing you another ball," she said through grunts.
"Then maybe stop trying to juggle them all at once," Silas offered. "Sequence. Not simultaneity."
She paused. Nodded. Tried again.
The improvement was obvious.
Cass's Practice: Cass focused on refinement. His Light spells weren't showy—he wasn't one for spectacle. But his "Radiant Thread" spell allowed his effigy to anchor its movements with beams of light, increasing precision and grace.
He paired it with a shield-like construct called "Gleam Barrier," timing it defensively when Velira mock-attacked.
"You fight like you're dancing," she said, panting after a fast round.
Cass just smiled. "And you fight like you're making a scene."
Silas's Turn: He stood silently. Then his effigy moved.
He commanded it to use Void Clot, watching as the darkness peeled off the ground and wrapped around it like tattered cloth. Then came Ashpiercer Bolt, the light-dark fusion spell that ignited in a swift diagonal strike. Lastly, he prepared Mistfang Latch, aiming to control space.
But as the last spell activated, his effigy trembled.
The scarred limbs cracked further. A low grinding noise sounded from its chest.
"Stop!" Velira shouted.
Silas winced but raised his hand. The spell faded.
"Still not fully healed," he admitted.
"You're pushing it again."
"I have to understand where the edges are," he replied, voice low. "Only way to sharpen them."
Cass knelt beside the effigy, inspecting the joints. "You need to rest this one. Or rebuild it."
"Soon."
They didn't press further.
---
Hours passed. They practiced until mana fatigue set in. Until commands turned sluggish and even banter ran dry.
Eventually, they lay back on the mat, watching the lanterns above pulse in lazy rhythm.
"We should do this more often," Cass said quietly.
"Before we forget why we started," Velira added.
Silas didn't speak. But he agreed.
The trio, weathered but grounded, shared that quiet space together, letting the world stay still for a little longer.