Year of Idite, 1167
Under the light of the day, Lilith studied her four elemental magic while Elias sharpened his sword play.
The Training Hall of Silford Manor was bathed in golden morning light streaming through stained glass windows. The high, vaulted ceiling echoed with the rush of wind and the crackle of magic, as if the very air held its breath around the two young heirs of the Silford bloodline.
At the center of the polished stone floor stood Lilith Silford, now eleven years old. Her crimson-red hair, straight and gleaming like liquid fire, framed her sharp, delicate features. Her emerald green eyes, which returned back to their original color last year, shone with fierce focus as she moved her hands through a practiced sequence, her breath steady and controlled.
Before her, the four primal elements obeyed her call without resistance.
A ring of water spiraled in graceful arcs around her. Threads of fire coiled and danced above her open palm, while sharp slivers of earth hovered weightless at her fingertips. A soft current of air lifted the ends of her hair, swirling gently as if the wind itself bent to her will.
With a sharp breath, she brought her hands together—and the elements fused into a single glowing sphere, pure and shimmering, before she released it into harmless mist.
On the far side of the hall stood her younger brother, Elias Silford, now nine. His straight crimson hair, slightly tousled, barely passed his shoulders, and his amber eyes burned with quiet determination. His frame, once slender and soft, had begun to take shape—arms and legs lean with the beginnings of disciplined strength earned through countless hours of drills and sparring. He was a natural genius.
His blade flashed in the golden light, steel whispered against air as he moved through a flurry of strikes—clean, purposeful, and deliberate. The sound echoed off the stone walls, sharp like breath in winter. Sweat dotted his brow, but he didn't pause. Not yet. He was a blur of movement as he struck, stepped, turned, and struck again.
Before him stood a tall demi-human figure—Arin, cloaked in layered grays and black, with dusky skin, feline golden eyes, and curved horns sweeping back from his temples. A lizard like tail swayed behind him with each movement, his stance still as stone as he watched the boy move.
"Again," Arin said, voice low and measured. "Faster on the pivot. You're overcommitting on your third strike. Wrist looser. Shift your stance between each swing—do not let your heels root like a tree."
Elias obeyed without question, adjusting his grip and repeating the form. The steel blade moved faster this time, his feet gliding into a smoother rhythm. There was something mesmerizing about his motions, like he was trying to carve meaning into the air with every strike.
Arin paced a slow circle around him, arms folded behind his back. "Your body listens well. Now teach it discipline."
Elias gritted his teeth. "I am."
"You're rushing," Arin replied calmly. "Speed without intent is noise. Control without conviction is silence. Cut through both."
From across the hall, Lilith lowered her hands, the last wisps of mist from her elemental fusion fading around her. She watched him in quiet admiration, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"You're improving, Elias," she called softly.
Elias stumbled for half a step, his cheeks flushing as he caught himself and straightened, blade at his side. "I have to catch up somehow," he muttered, attempting a smirk. "Someone's already a storm, a wildfire, a river, and a mountain all at once."
Lilith raised a brow, amused. "Are you calling me a natural disaster?"
He hesitated for a beat, then smirked. "If the title fits."
She let out a quiet snort, folding her arms as she leaned against a nearby pillar. "Then I suppose that makes you the poor soul rebuilding everything I destroy."
Elias grinned. "Someone has to keep the world standing while you rewrite its laws."
Their banter was light, but beneath it ran a deep understanding. They weren't just siblings—they were two sides of the same coin. One born to shake the world, the other to anchor it.
Lilith tilted her head. "Let's see if you can still talk like that after sparring with Caelum."
Elias chuckled, feigning bravery. "I'll walk out of it just fine. Probably."
She laughed—a sound like chimes in the wind. "We're a team, Elias. You don't have to 'catch up.'"
"I know," he said, though his gaze lingered a moment longer on the edge of his blade. He looked down, fingers tightening around the hilt. "Still… I want to."
Lilith crossed her arms, tilting her head. "Is it a competition, then?"
"No," he said after a beat. "It's just… I want to stand beside you. Not behind you."
There was no teasing in her eyes now—only warmth. She stepped forward a few paces and knelt to touch the ground where his last stance ended.
"You already do," she said. "You just don't see it yet."
Arin's golden gaze followed the exchange in silence, the faintest flicker of something unreadable in his expression.
Then, to Elias alone, he said in a voice like wind brushing leaves, "Even the greatest sword cannot cut the wind… without knowing where it stands."
Elias blinked, confused by the cryptic remark, but nodded anyway.
Arin stepped back. "That's enough for now. Your form is raw—but promising. You're fighting like someone with something to protect. That is where all true swordsmanship begins."
Elias exhaled, his chest rising and falling, sweat cooling on his brow.
Lilith walked over and handed him a cloth. He took it gratefully, dabbing at his face before looking up at her with a faint grin.
"Think Caelum was watching?"
Lilith followed his gaze to the balcony above, where no shadow lingered—but they both knew better.
She smiled. "He always is."
And as the morning sun cast colored light through the stained glass in ever-changing patterns, the two Silford siblings stood side by side—one wreathed in elemental might, the other in steel and determination—each quietly reaching for the shape of the future that waited for them just beyond the hall.
As they left the hall side by side, their hands brushed—and for a moment, the two shared a quiet understanding.