The forest glistened under shafts of sunlight as birds chirped above, painting the day with life. Issac swung his dagger in practiced arcs, sweat running down his forehead, while his father corrected his stance. The boy's determination burned brightly, like the dagger catching the light.
From the edge of the training ground, Vaela fidgeted, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Papa," she tugged at her father's sleeve, "I want to train with Issac and Uncle too!"
Her father blinked, adjusting his glasses. "Train? Vaela, you're still a small girl. They're swinging weapons. Do you want to get hurt?"
Vaela puffed her cheeks, stomping her foot with fiery pride. "I'm not small! I'm strong! I don't want to just sit and watch. I want to fight too!"
Her words carried the kind of fearless honesty only children possessed. For a moment, her father hesitated. He knew his daughter's spirit wasn't ordinary—stubborn, but filled with courage. With a sigh and a small smile, he finally nodded.
"Alright… but be careful. Don't come crying if you get bruises."
"I won't!" Vaela grinned, sprinting straight to Issac.
Issac stopped mid-swing as she dashed over. "Vaela? You really came to train?"
"Mm-hm!" She nodded, determination shining in her eyes.
Issac's father chuckled warmly. "Then welcome, little warrior. Let's begin with the basics."
And so the days shifted. Vaela joined Issac's training, learning to hold her dagger, to move her feet, to strengthen her arms. Sometimes she fell, sometimes she laughed, sometimes she cried when a bruise stung too much—but she always stood back up.
Together, the two of them grew.
---
Twelve years later
The sound of blades clashing echoed through the forest. Issac, now tall and broad-shouldered, spun his dagger in perfect balance. Beside him, Vaela matched his rhythm, her movements swift and sharp. Their laughter between strikes showed not just skill, but a bond forged through years of training.
They were no longer just neighbors. They were inseparable.
But destiny had its own plans.
That afternoon, the forest grew restless. Leaves trembled though the wind was still. Birds fled the branches as a group of armored men marched through the underbrush. At their front walked a young man radiating golden light, his sharp eyes filled with arrogance.
The prince.
His golden lion spirit shimmered faintly behind him, a majestic aura that weighed heavy on the forest itself. Behind him followed his guards, carrying bows and spears, ready for the hunt.
Issac and Vaela paused their training, watching curiously from a distance.
But fate struck in a heartbeat.
As Vaela practiced a throw, her dagger slipped from her hand and shot forward—straight toward the prince.
Whsshh!
The dagger never reached him. The prince lifted his hand lazily, catching the blade between two fingers as though it were nothing but a falling leaf.
His eyes narrowed. "Who dares?"
Vaela's face went pale. She stumbled forward, bowing her head. "I—I'm sorry! It was an accident!"
But the prince's pride burned like fire. His aura flared, and the golden lion spirit roared behind him, shaking the air with its power.
"An accident?" he spat. "You dare aim a weapon at royalty? You'll pay the price!"
The lion's spectral claws extended as the prince pointed at Vaela, preparing to unleash a strike.
Issac's eyes widened. His chest tightened with fury. His hand gripped his dagger.
Vaela, trembling but unyielding, clenched her fists. "I said it was a mistake! I didn't mean to—!"
But the prince ignored her words. The golden lion lunged forward, its energy crackling with ferocity.
Issac stepped in front of her, raising his weapon. "Stop! Don't hurt her!"
---
The air exploded with tension. Vaela's eyes widened at Issac's back shielding her, her heart pounding. The prince sneered, tilting his head as if amused.
"So, the little cub wants to bare his fangs at a lion?"
The golden aura flared brighter. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the clash that could change everything.
---