The First Step Outside

Morning sunlight spilled over the walls of the east wing. The courtyard rang with the echo of gasps and palms hitting the ground.

Asori was on the floor, drenched to the last fiber, firing through push-ups. Weeks ago he couldn’t finish twenty; now his body demanded more, as if his muscles knew a secret he was only beginning to guess.

He rolled and started crunches, counting under his breath. Sweat slid from his brow down his neck. He finished with a set of squats, arms outstretched, the cool morning air stinging his cheeks.

Eryndor watched from a log, bamboo staff resting across his knees.
—You’re stronger than the boy who staggered in here weeks ago. —His voice was wind that could both soothe and push.

Asori dropped onto his back in the grass, panting.
—I don’t feel strong.

Eryndor’s smile was small.
—Because you compare yourself to what you want to be, not what you were. A handful of low-rank thugs could still give you trouble… but before you came here, one would have beaten you. That is progress.

Asori looked up at the sky, half-smiling.

—Good morning! —Blair’s clear voice filled the courtyard.

She arrived with a breakfast tray: fresh bread, sliced fruit, two jugs of apple juice. A light cloak, her hair in a ponytail, the flower-jewel glinting faintly in the sun.

—What, does the wind bring maids now too? —Asori joked from the ground.

—Not a maid. —Blair’s half-smile—. Princess. Silver-haired Princess, if you prefer.

Asori sat up, chuckling.
—Sounds familiar.

They ate together by the fountain’s edge. Blair complained about how dull mornings were when Tifa was buried in papers; Asori griped about training the way one gripes about an older brother. Eryndor listened in quiet peace, savoring the simple clink of cutlery and laughter.

When they finished, Eryndor set the staff on the ground.
—Something different today. —His gaze shifted to Blair—.A practice fight.

Blair blinked, surprised.
—With Asori? I don’t want to… hurt him.

—That’s precisely why. Don’t hold back. Just don’t transform.

—Are you sure?

—Very. If the boy doesn’t get a “real” fight, he’ll be useless out there. And if you don’t fight seriously, it won’t be instruction, it’ll be charity.

Blair pressed her lips together, then sighed and stood.
—All right.

Eryndor looked to Asori.
—Base form. No transformation. Fight as you train, and you’ll be free to move on the field.

Asori swallowed, then got to his feet.
—Understood.

They faced each other. The air turned expectant.

Blair was the first to move. Quick, elegant, with firm steps that resembled dance. She struck with the back of her hand, softly but precisely. Asori dodged it by pure reflex.

—Not bad —she said.

He didn't answer because he was too focused on dodging, using everything he had learned while training with Eryndor.

Blair picked up the pace: spinning kicks, feints, angled strikes. The air crackled with the heat of her contained aura and the power of the Fire Orb within her. Asori backed away, rolled on the ground, and raised his arms to shield himself, somewhat ineffectively, from Blair's attacks, who looked like a flame vibrating intensely in the darkness.

The match was uneven. Blair had the grace of a lifetime of training; Asori, the awkward balance of someone learning to walk a tightrope. Even so, he dodged more than he would have dreamed weeks earlier.

Eryndor watched with arms crossed, satisfied to feel that the weeks of training were bearing fruit.

Then Blair swept low. Asori tried to hop, clipped a rock, and… crashed into her.

The courtyard fell silent. Their faces were very close, so close that Blair's white lock of hair brushed Asori's cheek, and in both their minds they recalled that moment they almost kiss in Blair’s room.

Eryndor cleared his throat.
—If you’re going to fight, fight. If you’re going to kiss, give notice.

Blair sprang away, red as fire. Asori stood, scratching his neck.
—It was… strategy. —Mortified.

—Sure it was —Blair replied sarcastically.

—Enough for today. —Eryndor’s eyes were amused—. Go to Tifa. Time to show results and take the next step.

They crossed corridors to the throne room, where Tifa waited amid maps and documents. The queen looked up.
—Results? —sharp, severe.

Blair stepped forward.
—Asori can now transform at will.

Tifa’s eyes narrowed with interest.
—Is that so?

Asori allowed a touch of pride.
—Yeah. And I feel much stronger.

—Show me your transformation and push out everything you have, so I can see your limit. —Tifa’s order left no room.

Eryndor raised a force field—a transparent dome humming with energy.
—So Zeknier can’t sense it.

Asori blinked, surprised; he’d transformed before. Eryndor explained he had been raising the field each time, using his Astral. He would not allow carelessness to draw suspicion.

Asori closed his eyes, drew a breath, and let out a shout. Light surged; the form took him: hair wilder, eyes winter-blue, white shirt with blue piping, loose black trousers, firm gloves and boots. A white aura wrapped him, heavy as pressure in the room.

Blair watched, astonished. It was the first time she’d seen him transformed in calm, and wonder warmed her smile at his progress.

Tifa nodded, proud.
—Not bad. You’re still years from catching us, but it’s a start.

Asori breathed hard, sweat beading—dumping full power cost him.
—How was that? —hungry for approval.

—Not bad, boy. Since you clearly don’t control it yet, the energy drain is brutal; staying at a full hundred is too much load. Now, dismiss it. —Tifa’s command.

He blinked.
—Dismiss it… how? I usually lose it when I use up all my energy. I don't know how to end it on purpose..

—Think of something that settles you. Let Astral return to its channel. —Eryndor.

Blair folded her arms, amused.
—You could try thinking of me. That might help.

Asori inadvertently recalled the vision of Sweet Kiss where he saw Blair in her underwear. He blushed all the way to his ears. Blair sensed this due to their bond and blushed as well.

—…I’ll think of something else.

He closed his eyes again, trying to empty his mind and shut off the inner stream that Eryndor had taught him to open. Slowly, as if closing a door, he let the energy flow away.

The white aura thinned and faded. Normal returned.

Tifa rose.
—Good. Then you’re ready for your first mission. You’ll head to a town near the Capital. Confirm the tournament rumors, learn the prizes, and identify the slave being offered as reward. You’ll meet our informant there.

Blair’s eyes widened.
—Already? Asori’s first mission now?

—Yes. We’re very short on time. —Tifa’s gaze fixed on her niece—. But first… kiss him so he can recover his energy and leave at once.

—What!? —Blair and Asori in unison.

—The Sweet Kiss will restore what he just burned. If he drains himself again, your kiss will be his lifeline. And on a mission there’s no time for doubt—so consider it practice.

Blair blushed, a hand to her mouth. Asori, somewhere between nervous and excited, couldn’t tell whether he was happier about stepping into the world to test his training… or about what was about to happen.

They stood facing each other, tense and flushed, on the brink of sealing a new beginning.