The morning air was crisp and bit at Marcus's exposed skin.
Marcus pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He walked toward the rhythmic sound of steel slicing through air.
Theo was already there, of course.
His brother moved through the mist with fluid grace. Sweat glistened on his forehead despite the chill.
Theo's sword was a blur of motion. He practiced a form Marcus could barely follow with his eyes.
Theo's forms were flawless, each strike building on the last with relentless focus.
It was beautiful. Impressive. But it was also terrifying.
Marcus waited by the edge of the training ring. He leaned against a wooden post and watched.
Theo finished the sequence with a sharp, controlled exhale.He held the final stance for a beat before relaxing his muscles.
Only then did he notice Marcus. His face brightened with surprise, and he jogged over.
"Brother," Theo said. He wiped his face with a towel. "You are up early."
