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Chapter 5 – The Quiet Before the Spark
The sky was kinda pink when I stepped outside.
Not like, super pink. Just soft. Like the sky was blushing a little before the sun came up.
It was quiet.
Cold air. Wet grass.
My boots made that squish squish sound when I walked across the backyard, wooden sword bouncing against my leg.
I wasn't yawning.
Okay, maybe one time.
Dad was already there, standing near the usual spot behind the shed. He had a cup of something warm — probably gross bitter tea — and his training sword leaning on the tree like it was also tired.
He looked chill as always. Hair tied back lazy-style, shirt untucked like he didn't care but still somehow looked cool.
"Morning," I said, dragging my wooden sword behind me.
He took a sip from his mug and gave me that slow-dad stare. "You're five minutes earlier than last time."
"Maybe I'm just motivated today," I said, trying to sound serious.
"Or maybe," he said, pointing at me with his mug, "you just wanna hit me earlier."
I smiled. "Could be both."
Dad nodded once. "Alright. Let's see what your body remembers. Hopefully not the falling part."
I groaned.
---
I took my stance. Feet wide. Knees a bit bent. Back straight-ish. Sword up.
Breathe in.
And swing.
It was okay. Not perfect. But better than yesterday, I think.
Dad started slowly walking around me like I was a confused animal at a pet show.
"Relax your shoulders," he said. "You look like you're trying to turn into a turtle."
"I'm concentrating," I mumbled.
"You're panicking."
"Same thing."
I swung again. And again. On the fifth one, my foot slid and I almost fell face-first into the grass.
Dad didn't even flinch. "Ah yes. Very advanced. The 'Almost-Dead Crane' stance."
"Maybe you just don't understand new styles," I said, dusting off my pants.
"Oh I get it," he said. "You're inventing a new martial art called Oops!"
I laughed. Then I swung again. My arms were already sore but the movement started to feel a little better. Less weird.
"Not bad," he said after a bit. "Less flapping, more fighting."
Which from him? That was basically a full compliment.
---
We sat under the tree to take a break. I grabbed the water jug and tried not to act like my arms were shaking.
"You're getting better," Dad said, stretching his legs out like he was relaxing at a spa. "Another month and I might actually flinch when you swing."
"I'll mark that day on the calendar."
He snorted.
Then — BANG! The back door flew open.
"I SWEAR, IF HE'S LYING IN THE DIRT AGAIN—"
"Moooooom," I groaned.
She walked over holding a basket and a cloth-wrapped roll of something amazing-smelling. Her sleeves were rolled up, and she had that face like she was about to scold us but also feed us.
"You better not be killing my son out here," she said, dropping the basket like a boss.
"He's fine," Dad said. "He's learning."
"He's twelve."
"I'm seven," I corrected her.
"You look twelve with that sword."
She handed me a warm roll, and I swear I almost cried. "Thank you."
"Eat. Stretch. Hydrate. And stop making that 'dying hero' face," she said, sitting down beside us like she owned the yard.
Dad took his roll with a small bow. "My queen."
"Shut up and eat."
I just watched them.
"You guys are weird."
"You love it," Mom said, patting my head.
"I tolerate it."
---
We got back to training after food. My arms felt kinda like noodles but I still kept swinging.
And for a while… it felt good.
Like I was actually moving right. Like the blade knew what to do and just needed me to keep up.
Then something happened.
Mid-swing.
Something... flickered inside me.
Like a spark.
Or a breath I forgot to take.
Deep in my chest — right under the ribs.
I paused. Blinked. It was gone.
"You good?" Dad asked, stepping closer.
"Yeah," I said quickly. "Just… felt something. I dunno."
He didn't push. Just nodded. "Alright. Get back to it. I'll watch your form."
So I did.
But the whole time I kept thinking about that weird flicker. Like something had knocked on a door inside me… and then walked away.
---
📓 Character Note: Cedric Roosevelt
He's Theo's dad. Still an adventurer (on break), still scary with a sword…
but also scared of Sera.
Like, very.
Not "haha" scared — like real "yes dear" energy.
He acts all calm and wise, but half the time he's just pretending not to laugh at Theo tripping over his own sword.
Funny most of the time. Serious only when it's really important.
Or when someone touches his tea.
That's Cedric.