The lake shimmered under the twin suns, its surface catching their golden light like a mirror, casting soft ripples that lapped gently at the muddy shore. A faint breeze carried the cool scent of water and wild mint, a rare breath of life in Avallah's harsh wastelands. The two young men stood facing each other, handsome in their own right, yet worlds apart. Solvane towered over the gathered boys, his tall frame a mark of the Golden Aspers, his golden fur glinting faintly beneath a loose training tunic. His lean muscles, built for speed, shifted as he stood, his presence radiating a princely majesty that silenced the air. His blue eyes, sharp and bright, studied the boy before him with a mix of curiosity and challenge, his Popyl-bone sword hanging at his side, its thin blade gleaming softly in the sunlight.
Walden stood shorter, less imposing in stature, but carried a quiet sharpness that seemed to press on the air itself, as if an unseen blade hovered at his side. His red curls caught the sun like sparks, and his well-toned frame spoke of disciplined training. . His face, sharp and handsome, held a calm intensity, and his God's Eyes—deep pupils shimmering with starlight, a trait unique to him in all of Avallah—glinted as he glanced up briefly, then returned to his task, the scrape of steel on stone steady and unbothered.
"Walden, isn't it?" Solvane's voice cut through the quiet, a mix of curiosity and command, his words carrying the weight of a prince used to being heard. He stepped closer, his boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. "I've heard plenty about your strength. At my age, few can stand toe-to-toe with me, let alone win. Care to indulge me in a friendly spar?"
A faint smile curved Walden's lips, but his God's Eyes narrowed, holding something unreadable—mockery, perhaps, or a quiet warning. He set the whetstone aside, his movements slow and deliberate, and stood, his sword resting lightly in his hand. "With all due respect, Your Majesty… I refuse," he said, his voice calm but firm, like a blade sliding into its sheath.
Gasps rippled through the boys watching from the sides, their eyes wide with shock. They stood in a loose circle, their tunics dusty from the trek to the lake, their faces pale under the twin suns. "Is he insane?" one whispered, his voice barely a breath. "Who turns down the crown prince?" another hissed, glancing nervously at Solvane. "I always thought he stayed out here alone because he's hiding something—maybe enhancers," a third muttered, eyeing Walden's sword with suspicion. "Or he's just broken in the head," another said darkly, his voice low. "Or maybe," a quieter boy murmured, almost to himself, "he's the only sane one here."
Their whispers faded as Walden's words settled, heavy as stones dropped into the lake. The water rippled, reflecting the tension in the air.
Solvane frowned, his blue eyes studying Walden's sharp features, the starlight in his eyes unwavering. He tilted his head, a faint smile still playing on his lips, though it wavered slightly. "Why not?" he asked, his tone light but probing, his golden fur catching the sunlight as he shifted his weight. "What, you need a bag of coin to make it worth your time? Name your price."
Walden's expression hardened, and for a moment, the air felt heavier, as if his God's Eyes pressed against it like a storm gathering on the horizon. His voice came low, deliberate, each word sharp as steel. "When I draw my sword, it's not for play. A blade, once unsheathed, demands blood—it doesn't rest until one of us stops breathing. That's the weight of my path. That's why I can't raise it lightly, not even for a prince."
The murmurs fell silent, the boys frozen, their eyes wide with awe and fear. Even Solvane's smile faltered, struck by the cold conviction in Walden's tone—so absolute, it chilled the warm air. Those God's Eyes burned brighter, their starlight casting faint shadows on the ground, like stars reflected in the lake.
"I have people to protect," Walden continued, his voice steady but heavy, like a vow carved into stone. "If I kill you here, it's not just my hands that pay. My family, my village—they'd suffer for it. I won't carry that burden, not even for a crown."
Solvane felt a pang of pity, sharp and unexpected, cutting through his frustration. This was no arrogance, no disrespect—it was a curse, tied to Walden's blade and those starlit eyes. His own rapid healing, a gift of his Golden Asper blood, itched to be tested, urging him to push past this refusal. The one person who could challenge him, who could let him fight without holding back, was slipping away. He stepped closer, the lake's edge lapping at his boots, the scent of water sharp in his nose. "You're serious, aren't you?" he said, his voice softer now, searching. "You really think a spar with me would end in blood?"
Walden's gaze held steady, his God's Eyes unyielding. "It's not about you, Your Majesty," he said quietly. "It's about what I am. My blade doesn't know 'friendly.' It only knows endings."
The words hung heavy, the lake's surface still as if holding its breath. Solvane's frustration burned hotter, his golden fur prickling as if sensing his mood. He let out a breath, his smile returning, though it was tinged with defiance. "Then we'll use wooden swords," he said, his voice lighter, teasing but insistent. "No blood, no endings. Just a bit of fun. What do you say?"
The boys leaned forward, their eyes wide, desperate for Walden's response. He had defied royalty twice—would he dare a third? Their whispers stirred again, soft as the breeze. "He's done it now," one muttered. "Three refusals? He's begging for trouble."
"I refuse again," Walden said, not turning, his voice flat, like the calm before a storm. He stepped toward the boulder, his red curls swaying, his back straight as if the conversation was over.
Solvane's eyes twitched, a vein pulsing in his forehead, though he forced a grin, his princely charm masking his irritation. "What, even wood's too dangerous?" he called, his voice carrying across the lake, sharp with challenge. "You scared I'll bruise that pretty face of yours, Walden? Or do those fancy eyes of yours see something I don't?"
Walden's chuckle was low, humorless, the sound drifting over the water like a warning. He glanced over his shoulder, his God's Eyes sharp enough to chill the air, their starlight glinting like a blade. "Ever heard of sword intent?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper, yet it carried a weight that silenced the boys.
Solvane tilted his head, his curiosity piqued despite his frustration. "No," he said, his blue eyes narrowing, searching Walden's face. "What's that? Some trick you learned out here by the lake?"
Walden's gaze held steady, feral, like a beast barely leashed, the starlight in his eyes flaring wildly. "Then you can't understand why I decline," he said, his voice cutting through the air. "To me, a wooden sword is no different from steel. Intent kills—not the blade."
Solvane glimpsed something raw in those eyes, a power that sent a thrill through him, like standing at the edge of a cliff in Avallah's wastelands. The lake reflected the tension, its surface rippling as if stirred by Walden's words. The boys stood frozen, their breaths shallow, caught in the weight of the moment.
"I apologize," Walden said, his tone quiet but final, his red curls swaying as he turned away again, his boots crunching softly on the shore. "Forgive me for making the crown prince come out here for nothing."
"Wait," Solvane called, his voice firm, a spark of defiance in his blue eyes as he stepped forward, the lake's edge cool against his boots. "You say you don't stop until someone's dead, and you can't risk killing me. But what if I bring someone strong enough to stop us before it goes too far? Someone who can handle your… intent?"
The words felt bold, almost absurd, but Solvane's heart raced with the challenge, his golden fur shimmering as if urging him on. The boys held their breath, stunned by the prince's persistence, their whispers silenced by the tension hanging over the lake. "He's pushing too far," one boy whispered. "Even a prince can't force him."
Walden paused, his back still to Solvane, then turned fully, his God's Eyes softening into a thin smile, though their weight pressed on everyone present. "If so… then it has to be a Golden Asper."