⚔️ Chapter 7 — Shadows over Valenhold
Kael's POV
The early morning fog clung to the walls of Valenhold Academy like a shroud. Kael tightened his grip on the sword he had come to both fear and respect. Today was different. Today, the training yard felt colder, heavier—as if the shadows themselves were watching.
"Focus," he whispered, though the voice felt weak even to him.
The clanging of steel echoed across the courtyard. Knights sparred, moving like wind incarnate. Kael tried to mimic their rhythm, but his movements were jerky, hesitant. The weight of his earlier failures—moments when he had doubted his skill, his worth—pressed on his shoulders.
Then came the sound that froze him: a low, sinister laugh, muffled beneath the fog. Kael turned sharply. No one. But the air felt wrong.
"Kael," called Master Rylan from across the yard. "Your technique—stop doubting. Let the sword speak."
Kael's hands shook. He closed his eyes and felt it: the hum of steel in his grasp, the promise that this blade could defend, could strike, could carry the dreams of someone who no longer had them.
Liora's POV (the Archer-in-Training)
Liora crouched atop the eastern tower, her bow drawn. From here, the yard looked peaceful, almost serene. Yet instinct told her otherwise. Something was off.
She had seen Kael struggle these past weeks, seen him falter, and she knew the boy carried more than just inexperience—he carried doubt that could shatter him.
The laugh drifted to her ears, carried by the wind. Her eyes narrowed. Valenhold had enemies, yes—but intruders? Here?
She nocked an arrow, scanning the fog. Shadows moved where there should be none. A chill ran down her spine.
Kael's POV (continued)
The fog thickened. Figures emerged, dark shapes gliding across the courtyard. Not students. Not instructors.
"Ambush!" Kael shouted, adrenaline surging. His sword flashed as he met the first attacker. The steel met steel, sparks flying, and Kael felt a thrill unlike any other—the fear was there, but so was a sharp clarity.
One attacker moved too fast. Kael stumbled. Pain shot through his shoulder. Then, a voice behind him:
"Kael, the left flank!"
It was Liora. She had descended from the tower, arrows singing through the mist. One struck an enemy squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling.
Kael's eyes widened. Relief, mixed with awe.
Instructor Rylan's POV
Rylan had felt it the moment the fog rolled in—a disturbance in the training yard. As a master of both blade and strategy, he sensed the danger before it struck.
He moved swiftly, commanding students into formation, protecting those who were unarmed. But Kael… the boy was different.
Rylan's sharp eyes watched Kael parry, dodge, strike, his confidence growing with every move. Yes, the boy was young, but he had the spark. And in battle, that spark could ignite.
The attackers advanced, yet something in Rylan's chest told him: Kael wasn't just surviving. He was beginning to fight like a knight should.
Kael's POV (climactic moment)
One attacker lunged. Kael sidestepped, then pivoted, letting the sword guide him in a perfect arc. The figure crumpled, unconscious. Around him, others hesitated, unnerved by the boy who refused to fall.
Liora stood nearby, bow ready, eyes blazing. Together, they formed a temporary rhythm—one of instinct, trust, and unspoken understanding.
The fog began to lift, and with it, the attackers vanished as mysteriously as they had appeared. No one pursued. No words were exchanged. Only the echo of Kael's heartbeat and the lingering fear of what had just happened.
Kael looked at Liora, then at the silent yard.
"Who… who were they?" he asked, voice low.
Liora shook her head, frowning. "I don't know. But they weren't ordinary thieves. Someone's testing us."
Kael clenched his sword. His resolve hardened. Whoever was behind this, he would be ready next time.
Closing Note (Rylan's POV)
Rylan watched Kael wipe the blood from a shallow cut and return his stance. The boy had faced shadows—and not fled.
This was only the beginning.
The shadows of Valenhold were stirring, and Kael Ardyn would have to confront them… or be consumed.