Cassian swung his sword high, then low.
Just like Manes had taught him. The image flowed through his head, the directions as clear as day. His body followed almost without thought. It was easier now. Almost second nature.
He felt the weight of the sword in his hand. It was different from the wooden ones he used before. Heavier, practical.
He swung at a log dangling by a rope. An unlucky piece of wood that had become his practice dummy, cutting through it in one clean motion.
The log fell.
Cassian moved to the next.
The footwork had seemed like dancing the first time he'd watched Manes perform it. His movements had been so precise that Cassian had struggled to understand how a man his age could move with such ease.
Now, it seemed obvious.
Simple. And yet, somehow, still incredibly complex.
That was the strange thing about swordsmanship. The more he learned, the more he realized how much he didn't know. Cassian stepped forward.
High.
Low.
Turn.
Strike.
His blade cut through the second log, then the third.
The pieces of wood hit the ground one after another.
Cassian stopped. His chest rose and fell. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Manes walked toward the logs.He examined the first.
Then the second, and finally, the third.
"The first two were fine," he said. "But this last one wasn't a clean cut."
Cassian stared at him.
No.
They'd been here for days.
He'd repeated this same process with the old man more times than he cared to count. Every mistake had been corrected. Every bad stance had been pointed out. Every time he thought he'd finally gotten it right, Manes found something else wrong.
He had to pass today. He needed to leave. Move on.
"But Manes—"
"You pass, boy."
Cassian stopped.
He stared at the old man.
A smirk crawled onto his face. He didn't fight it.
The smirk became a grin, and the grin turned into laughter that escaped his throat before he could stop it.
He dropped to the ground, lying in the mud. He didn't care. He'd passed. The mud was nothing in the face of that achievement.
"Clean your clothes before you step into my cabin," Manes said, already walking away.
Cassian normally would have said something about his cabin being dirty already, that there was probably enough dirt in that place to bury a whole man.
But he didn't.
He'd won. So he would let the old man win today too. Cassian pushed himself up and followed him inside.
The rest of the day was quiet. Manes slept through most of the afternoon, and Cassian eventually joined him. He didn't have to train anymore. He'd passed.
The feeling was strangely nostalgic.
It reminded him of the day he'd passed the test. He was almost as happy now as he'd been then.
Almost.
Back then, he'd been celebrating an achievement.
Now, there was a looming threat of death hanging over his head. It was difficult to enjoy freedom when he knew what waited for him beyond it.
Still, for one afternoon, Cassian allowed himself to forget. He finally woke in the evening to the smell of food. He walked into the main room and found a meal waiting on the table.
Manes sat nearby.
"I felt that since you passed, why not cook the food?" the old man said.
"You didn't have to, old man."
Cassian sat down and took his first spoonful.
"There's a reason I don't let you cook."
Manes frowned.
"Because of my old and frail bones?"
"No." Cassian swallowed. "Because you can't cook."
"You say that while eating my food."
"I don't have a choice, do I?"
Manes grunted.
He sat across from Cassian and began eating his own meal.
For a while, neither spoke.
"How long has it been, hmm?" Manes asked eventually.
"A month? Two months?" Manes looked at him.
Cassian smiled.
"One month and two weeks."
"It wouldn't have taken so long if you'd learned the things I taught you faster."
"Wouldn't have taken so long if you weren't such a perfectionist. You were always complaining about my form."
"Because it was wrong, boy."
It was. Cassian knew. He just liked riling the old man up.
"Okay, if you say so."
The table fell quiet again.
Cassian liked this feeling. He didn't know what it was exactly. Peace, perhaps. There was something comforting about sitting across from someone without needing to be on guard. No running. No digging. No fighting.
Just food, a table and an old man who complained too much.
"You know I had to be hard on you," Manes said.
Cassian looked up.
"You only had a month. You can't learn much in that time. I was teaching you the bare minimum."
"You sure you didn't just like watching me struggle?" Cassian responded
"For the bare minimum to be useful against people who've trained for years, you had to be perfect, or at least close."
"Of course," Cassian replied sarcastically.
"You know I speak the truth boy"
Manes pointed his spoon at him.
"From hardship—"
"To glory. I know. You're always saying it." Cassian said
"It's a phenomenal quote."
"It's an old quote."
"Still phenomenal."
Cassian shook his head.
"Who is Talos anyway?"
Manes stopped eating.
"You don't know Talos?"
Cassian stared at him. If he did, why would he be asking.
The old man looked genuinely offended.
"You don't know who Talos is?"
"Should I?" Cassian shrugged. "All I know is that you're obsessed with him."
Manes leaned back.
"You kids these days. No swordsmanship, no history. Just religion and Korvus."
"Most of the time, yes."
Manes sighed.
He looked like he wanted to continue the argument, but instead he pushed his chair back.
"I'm going to sleep."
Cassian watched him get up and disappear into the other room.
He'd gotten used to this routine.
It was strange how quickly that had happened.
A month and two weeks ago, Manes had been nothing more than an old man who had told him a story he didn't understand. Now, the thought of leaving this place was heavier than he wanted to admit.
He couldn't stay. He had things to do, people to find.
A death to avoid.
Still, that didn't mean he had to like leaving. Cassian remained at the table for a while. Eventually, he stood and moved to the chair near the window.
He closed his eyes. He breathed slowly. Then he reached inward. The energy was there. Always there.
He could feel it swirling around him, faint at first, like a current beneath deep water. Cassian pulled it toward himself.
The sensation grew stronger. Then came the glow.He opened his eyes.
The mark on the back of his hands was shining.
"I see you're practicing diligently, boy." Dea's voice rang in his head.
Cassian didn't even flinch.
" Maybe because you won't teach me to do anything else."
Cassian looked down at his hands.
" A whole month, and all I have is a glowy tattoo."
"Be grateful. Some people don't even have tattoos." Dea said "You have one that glows."
Cassian sighed.
Despite his best attempts, Dea wouldn't teach him anything. She always had an excuse. And when she'd finally taught him how to pull in his divine energy, she'd stopped there. That was it. No explanation. No next step. Typical Dea.
Annoying Dea.
"When do you plan to leave?" she asked.
"The day after tomorrow."
Cassian looked toward the darkened window.
"I still have things to wrap up with the old man. Besides, I don't know where to go yet. I'll need a map."
"The old man has a map."
"He does?" Cassian asked
"Of course he does, and we're going to Solmere."
Cassian frowned.
"Solmere?"
"Yes."
He waited for her to explain.
She didn't.
"That's it?"
"That is all you need to know for now."
Cassian had a feeling that meant he was going to find out the rest the hard way.