The village of Morningveil was a place that forgot how to hope—until Bell arrived. His party's successful defense against the wyvern attack the day before had earned them more than just the villagers' gratitude. Bell Valenheart, prince of the kingdom and radiant hero, had become a legend overnight.
In the early morning, Bell rose before the others. The light kissed the hills with gold, and his hair caught the rays like it belonged to the dawn. He practiced his forms alone behind the inn, greatblade in hand. His movements were precise, beautiful even—each swing a dance step from a storybook.
"That stance again? You know that one's for showing off, right?"
Bell turned to find Cid leaning on the fence, biting into a pear, as casual as ever. "You're up early. That's a first."
Cid shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Some squirrel kept staring at me from the window. Pretty sure it was judging me."
Bell chuckled, then lowered his blade. "You should spar with me."
Cid raised a brow. "And die in the first three seconds? Pass. I like breathing."
Bell threw him a practice sword anyway. "Come on. Just humor me."
Cid caught it and held it like a dead fish. "This is going to be humiliating."
It was. Bell disarmed him in less than ten seconds, but Cid laughed the whole time.
"I'll give you this," Bell said, offering him a hand up. "You're good at dodging."
Cid grinned. "That's my specialty: surviving while looking absolutely useless."
Seria arrived with breakfast shortly after—warm bread and spiced eggs. She rolled her eyes at the sight of Cid sprawled in the dirt.
"Let me guess. You challenged Bell to a duel again?"
"He threatened me with friendship. I had no choice."
She handed Cid a slice of bread. "Eat. You're only funny when you have carbs."
As they sat and ate under the waking sky, laughter echoing quietly, no one noticed the faint black scale half-buried beneath the training field.
It pulsed once—then went still.