The moon hung high, casting a cold silver glow over the courtyard. Torches flickered along the outer walls, their flas barely reaching the center where Ramiro and Luzia stood. The night was still, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.
Ramiro cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, Luzia, listen carefully. What we’re about to do isn’t magic in the traditional sense. You’re not weaving spells—you’re forcing your mana to take a different path. Instead of pooling in your heart like a normal mage, you’re going to channel it straight into your limbs."
Luzia nodded, though a crease ford between her brows. "And how exactly do I do that?"
Ramiro smirked. "First, we figure out where your mana wants to go. Close your eyes."
She hesitated, then obeyed. With her vision gone, the night air felt sharper, her senses keener.
"Now," Ramiro continued, his voice steady, "don’t try to control it. Just feel."
Luzia inhaled deeply, reaching inward. Normally, she would focus on her heart—where a mage’s magic should be. But this ti, she let herself drift, paying attention to the places where her mana naturally pooled.
A strange warmth pulsed—not in her chest. It coiled in her arms, curled in her fingertips, surged through her legs.
Her eyes snapped open. "It’s not in my heart at all."
Ramiro grinned. "Exactly. Forcing it there only makes things worse. Instead of fighting it, you need to use it as it already wants to be used."
Excitent sparked in her chest. "Alright. What’s next?"
Ramiro stepped behind her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. "Now, you’re going to circulate it. Take a deep breath. When you exhale, guide that energy—let it flow into your arms, your legs, your fists and feet. Don’t push it. Just let it."
Luzia exhaled slowly, concentrating. At first, nothing happened. Then—
A spark.
Energy flooded her limbs like a surge of lightning. Her fingers twitched, her muscles tensed. The courtyard sharpened around her, every detail more vivid.
Ramiro chuckled. "You felt it, didn’t you?"
She opened her eyes, breath coming fast. "I... did."
Ramiro stepped back. "Good. Now we test it. Hit ."
Luzia hesitated only for a second before stepping forward and swinging.
The air cracked.
Her fist shot forward—sharper, faster, stronger. She stared at her own hand. "That felt—"
"Better?" Ramiro grinned. "Your body is finally working with your mana instead of against it. But you’re not done yet."
He motioned for her to take a stance. "If you can’t control the flow, it’ll burn you out."
Luzia nodded, grounding herself.
Ramiro smirked. "Now, let’s get to real training. Raw power isn’t enough. You need technique."
Without warning, he moved—faster than she expected—sweeping his leg toward her feet. She barely managed to step back.
"Good reflexes," Ramiro teased. "But not good enough."
He shifted into a stance—feet firm, weight balanced, one hand raised while the other hovered near his waist. His movents were effortless. Efficient.
"Martial arts are about precision," he explained. "You don’t just throw your weight around—you control it."
He demonstrated—a jab, a cross, a kick. Each motion was sharp, asured.
"Strength ans nothing if your attacks are sloppy. You need discipline."
Luzia gritted her teeth. "Then show ."
Ramiro’s grin widened. "That’s the spirit. Try to hit ."
She lunged, aiming a punch at his ribs. Ramiro sidestepped effortlessly.
"Too slow."
She spun, launching a kick toward his side. He blocked it with his forearm, barely shifting from the impact.
"Too predictable."
Frustration flared in Luzia’s chest. "Stop playing around and teach ."
Ramiro’s smirk softened slightly. "Alright. First lesson—footwork. If you can’t move, you can’t fight."
For the next hour, he drilled her relentlessly—adjusting her stance, shifting her balance, forcing her to dodge rather than block. Every correction sharpened her awareness.
And yet—
As Luzia moved, a strange sensation curled in the back of her mind.
I’ve done this before.
The thought ca unbidden, creeping in like a whisper from a forgotten past.
Her hands, her movents—they weren’t new. This wasn’t sothing she was learning.
It was sothing she was rembering.
But from where?
Ramiro snapped his fingers in front of her face. "You spacing out on ?"
Luzia blinked, the strange feeling slipping just out of reach. "No. Just thinking."
Ramiro raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. "Alright. One last thing before we stop."
He shook out his shoulders. "This ti—hit for real."
Luzia exhaled, steadying herself.
She let her mana flow—not to her heart, not where it should be, but where it wanted to be.
Her muscles coiled, energy thrumming beneath her skin.
And then she moved.
Her punch shot forward—faster than before, sharper than before—
And this ti, Ramiro had to block with real effort.
The impact sent a shock through his arm, forcing him to shift his stance. He grinned, shaking out his hand.
"Now that," he said, flexing his fingers, "that’s more like it."
Luzia smirked, though her mind still lingered on the strange, fleeting thought.
What was that?
Luzia flexed her fingers, feeling the lingering tingle from the impact. Ramiro’s grin told her she’d finally broken past whatever had been holding her back. But that strange sensation—like a mory pressing at the edges of her mind—remained.
She had fought before. She knew she had.
Not just wild swings or desperate scrambles for survival. No—these movents, this control, they were trained. Disciplined.
Yet, she had no recollection of ever learning them.
"She’s a quick learner... it’s amazing."
Ramiro rolled his shoulder, watching her closely. "Sothing on your mind?"
Luzia hesitated. Should she tell him? She wasn’t even sure what it was.
Instead, she shook her head. "Just getting used to it. Feels... natural."
Ramiro’s smirk faded slightly, his gaze sharpening. "Natural, huh?" He crossed his arms, tilting his head.
Luzia swallowed, her fingers curling into a loose fist. "I don’t know where it cos from," she admitted.
Ramiro studied her for a long mont before nodding. "Instinct, maybe. Or sothing deeper."
Luzia exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "It’s not just instinct. It’s too... precise." She flexed her fingers again, feeling the way the mana pulsed through them, rembering how her body had moved before her mind had even caught up.
Ramiro’s expression darkened with sothing unreadable. "Then maybe you’re rembering, not learning."
Luzia stilled. "Rembering what?"
"That’s the question, isn’t it?" Ramiro said, his usual smirk absent. His gaze flickered to her hands. "Your movents—they weren’t hesitant. Even when you were struggling with the flow of mana, your body moved like it already knew what to do."
Luzia felt a shiver crawl down her spine. It wasn’t just that she had moved well—it was the feeling of it. Like slipping into a well-worn path she hadn’t realized she’d walked before.
Ramiro cracked his knuckles, shaking off the tension. "Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. For now, let’s keep training. Maybe the answers will co to you when you’re not forcing them."
Luzia nodded, though the unease lingered.
As they resud their stances, the night air pressing cool against her skin, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had done all this before—fought, trained, moved like this.
But if that was true...
Then who had she been before? It doesn’t make any sense.
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