Chapter 40: Reunion
The wooden katana ca at my head, and I moved.
It had been a week since I started training with Theron. Seven days of drilling Starlight Steps until my legs gave out, swinging this practice sword until my arms went numb, and sparring with Lyra every single morning—getting knocked down, getting back up, slowly learning what my body could actually do.
I stepped sideways, letting the blade pass inches from my face. A week ago, I would have frozen—thought too much, hesitated, and taken the hit. Now my body just moved on its own, no thinking involved.
Lyra didn’t pause. Her other hand ca around with a second strike, aiming for my ribs.
She’d been using two practice swords for the past few days, and honestly it was a little unfair how quickly she’d gotten good with them. Like she’d been born holding two blades. Every sparring session felt like fighting two people at once.
I shifted my weight back, let the blade swing past, and stepped into the space it left behind. That was sothing I’d figured out after getting hit too many tis—sotis moving closer was safer than moving away. Get inside their range, take away their advantage.
Her eyes flickered. Surprise, maybe. Or just acknowledgnt that I wasn’t the sa fighter I’d been a week ago.
She didn’t give
ti to think about it. Her lead sword ca at
again, faster this ti, a quick thrust aid at my chest. I twisted, felt the wooden tip graze my shirt, and brought my own blade up to block the follow-up strike that was already coming.
I kept moving through the rhythm—block, step, breathe—letting it carry
forward without overthinking.
The rhythm was starting to feel natural.
Not easy—nothing about fighting Lyra was easy—but natural. My feet knew where to go without
telling them. My arms moved to block without waiting for my brain to catch up. A week ago, every movent required conscious thought. Now so of them just happened.
She pressed harder. High strikes, low strikes, alternating between swords in a pattern that would have overwheld
in seconds back then.
I fell back, giving ground, letting her push
across the training hall while I focused on surviving rather than countering. That was the first lesson—stay alive long enough to learn sothing.
[You’re not panicking.] Nova’s voice floated through my mind, calm and steady. [That’s progress.]
Doesn’t feel like progress. Feels like I’m barely keeping up.
[That’s how it starts. Keep going.]
I kept going.
The next exchange lasted longer than any of our spars had a week ago.
She ca at
harder now, pressing the attack with fast strikes and feints that would have left
on the floor in seconds back then.
But now I could read them—the way her shoulder dropped before a thrust, the slight shift in her stance before she switched targets. I moved before she committed.
Not fast enough to avoid everything. But fast enough to avoid most things.
Her sword slipped past my guard and tapped my shoulder. I felt the impact, acknowledged it, and kept moving. That was another thing I’d learned—you couldn’t stop every hit. Sotis you just had to take one and keep fighting.
The goal wasn’t to avoid everything. It was to avoid enough.
She spun suddenly, using the montum to bring both blades around in a wide arc. I ducked under the first, brought my sword up to block the second, and felt the impact shudder through my arms. For a second we were locked there, her pressing down,
holding.
Then her foot ca up.
I saw it coming—the way her weight shifted, her knee bending, exactly what she was planning. That kick would have put
on the floor if I hadn’t moved.
This ti, I moved.
Side step, quick and smooth, letting her kick pass through empty air. Her eyes widened—just a little—and I used the mont to push forward instead of back. My shoulder caught her, not hard enough to hurt but enough to throw off her balance.
She stumbled for just a mont before catching herself, recovering almost instantly.
That had never happened before.
[Did you see that?] Nova’s voice was different now. Excited, almost. [You made her stumble.]
Lyra reset her stance, watching
with a new expression. Not worried—she was still way better than , still faster and stronger and more experienced. But sothing had shifted. She wasn’t just going through the motions anymore. She was actually paying attention.
She ca at
harder.
The next few minutes were a blur. I stopped counting hits, stopped thinking about technique—just moved, blocked, dodged, survived. Sweat dripped into my eyes, my lungs burned, and every part of
wanted to stop.
But I kept going.
And sowhere in all that chaos, I landed a hit.
It wasn’t much. A quick tap to her shoulder during a mont when she’d overcommitted to a strike, leaving herself open for just a split second. Nothing that would have hurt in a real fight. Nothing that would have stopped her if she’d been serious about hurting .
But it was a hit. The first ti I’d ever touched her in a spar.
She stopped. Just stood there, both swords lowered, staring at .
I stared back, breathing hard, not sure what was happening.
Then she smiled. Small and real.
"You’re getting better, Young Master."
I didn’t know what to say to that.
_
We sat on the bench after, both of us too tired to stand.
Lyra had set the practice swords aside and was working on a small cut on her arm—the one place I’d actually managed to make contact. It wasn’t deep, barely bleeding, but she treated it like any other wound.
I leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling, my whole body throbbing from the session.
But I was smiling.
I checked my phone. 11:43 AM.
Lyra had ntioned sothing earlier, before we started sparring. Sothing about this afternoon.
"What ti did you say they were coming?"
Lyra looked up from her arm. "The Duchess and Lady Mia? Around three, I think."
I nodded. A few hours. That was all I had before Mom and Mia arrived. A few hours to rest, to clean up, to try and look like I hadn’t just spent a week getting beaten into the ground.
I let out a long breath.
I pushed myself off the bench, ignoring the way my legs protested. There was still ti before they arrived. Ti to clean up, to change, to get ready.
Ti to figure out how to explain to my mom why her son looked like he’d been used as a punching bag for the past week.
I headed for the door.
_
I stepped through the fortress gates and the cold hit , sa as always, but I barely noticed it this ti. My eyes were fixed on the sleek silver jet sitting on the landing platform, steam rising from its mana-thrusters, the Celestial crest glowing faintly on its side.
They were here.
The ramp lowered with a soft hiss, and for a second everything went still. Then a small figure burst out of the opening like a cannonball.
"LEO!"
Mia’s voice cut through the freezing air, high and loud and absolutely wonderful. She was running full speed across the stone platform, her little legs pumping, her black hair flying behind her, her face split in the biggest grin I’d ever seen.
I barely had ti to brace myself before she slamd into .
"Oof—"
She wrapped her arms around my legs and held on tight. I stumbled back a step, caught myself, and looked down at the top of her head.
"Hey, Mia."
She tilted her face up to , those big blue eyes shining. "Leo! You’re okay! I missed you so much!"
I reached down and ruffled her hair. "I missed you too, kiddo."
She squeezed tighter, then pulled back to look at . She tilted her head, her eyes landing on the bruise on my cheek.
"Hm? What’s that?"
I touched my cheek. "Oh, this? Nothing major. Just a bruise from training."
She stared at it for a second. Then, before I could react, she reached up and pressed her tiny palm against my cheek. Gentle. Careful.
"...There," she said softly. "All better."
I blinked. "What was that?"
"Healing magic." She said it seriously, like it was obvious. "Mama does it when I get hurt. Now you’re healed."
It was funny hearing her say that, since she hadn’t awakened her mana core yet—she was just repeating what she’d seen mother do.
A chuckle escaped . "Since when do you know healing magic?"
"I just learned it." She nodded firmly. "Right now."
I laughed. "That’s so powerful magic, Mia."
"I know." She patted my cheek once more, satisfied with her work. "You’re welco."
Then she hugged my legs again.
I looked up and saw Mom walking down the ramp.
She had that look she always got—checking
over without being obvious about it. Her eyes moved from my face to my shoulders to the way I was standing, taking everything in.
When she reached , she pulled
into a hug. Simple and warm.
"Hey, Mom."
She pulled back and looked at , her hands still on my shoulders. "You look tired."
"I’ve been training a lot. And before you get angry, rember you agreed to this."
She sighed, but she was smiling. "I know. But that doesn’t an I have to like it."
Theron and Seraphina were already waiting on the platform, the twins trailing behind them bundled up in their winter clothes. They crossed the platform toward us, their boots crunching in the snow.
Theron reached Mom first. He stopped in front of her, looked at her for a long mont, then pulled her into a hug.
Mom hugged him back just as tightly. When they pulled apart, her eyes were wet.
"It’s good to see you, little brother."
Theron’s lip twitched. "You’re still shorter than ."
She laughed and smacked his arm. "So things never change."
Seraphina stepped forward and embraced Mom next, warm and genuine. "It’s been too long."
"Much too long." Mom squeezed her hands. "Thank you for taking care of my boy."
"Of course. He’s family."
While the adults talked, the twins spotted Mia was still clinging to my legs.
"Are you Mia?" Roran asked, stepping closer with wide eyes.
Mia peeked out from behind . "Roran! Eira!"
Mia looked at them, then at , then back at them. Slowly, she let go of my legs and took a small step forward.
"Do you have a frog?" she asked.
Eira shook her head. "No, but we have snow!"
"We can build snown!" Roran added. "Big ones!"
Mia’s eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Really!"
The three of them stood there for a second, sizing each other up. Then, as if so silent agreent had been reached, they all grinned at the sa ti.
"Can we play?" Mia turned to , those big eyes working their magic. "Please, Leo? Please please please?"
I looked at Mom. She shrugged.
"Fine," I said. "But stay where we can see you."
They were gone before I finished the sentence, running toward a patch of snow near the fortress wall, their laughter echoing behind them.
Mom watched them go, a soft smile on her face. "She’s been like this since yesterday."
"She couldn’t sleep?"
"Barely. Kept asking when we’d get here, what the fortress looked like, whether you’d changed." She glanced at . "I think she missed you more than she let on."
I didn’t say anything. Just watched Mia chase Roran through the snow, Eira trailing behind them, all of them shouting and laughing.
Theron ca up beside . "We should get inside. It’s cold."
Mom nodded, and we all started moving toward the fortress entrance.
But I paused at the door, looking back one more ti. Mia had caught Roran and was trying to shove snow down his collar while he howled in protest. Eira was jumping around them, cheering.
Mom stopped beside . "She’ll be fine."
"...I know."
She slipped her arm through mine. "Co on. Let’s go"
I let her pull
inside, the sounds of the kids’ laughter fading behind us as the heavy doors closed.
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