Rhommie's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Rhommie knew that watching wasn't enough anymore. She needed to understand what drew him to the training yard every dawn. So the next morning, she arrived before sunrise and picked up a fallen practice sword. The wooden blade felt heavy and clumsy in her hands. She copied the stances she'd seen him use, but her wings threw off her balance. She stumbled and landed hard on her knees. When she looked up, he was standing at the gate, watching her with an expression she couldn't read. He walked toward her and held out his hand. She took it and stood, brushing dirt from her knees. He picked up the practice sword and adjusted his grip on it, showing her how to hold it properly. His hands moved slowly so she could follow. Then he stepped back and demonstrated a basic stance, feet planted wide, weight centered. She tried to copy him. Her wings twitched, but she tucked them tight against her back. Better. He nodded once and showed her the next movement. By midday, her arms burned and sweat dripped down her face. But she understood now. This wasn't about fighting—it was about focus. About showing up every day and pushing through difficulty. She watched him demonstrate another drill near the marble statue that stood at the edge of the yard. The statue showed a bearded man with a hammer, glowing faintly in the sunlight. The warrior touched its base before each practice. She did the same. That evening, she waited by the spotted mushroom stool as usual. When he arrived, she pointed to the flowering vines nearby where two small fairy figures seemed to dance among the blooms. The vines had grown into a comfortable resting spot, perfect for sitting together. He settled there instead of on the mushroom's far edge. A smooth stone sat between them, its surface carved with moon phases and surrounded by pale petals that seemed to glow as dusk fell. The soft light let her see his face clearly. He wasn't scowling anymore. She smiled and asked him to teach her another stance tomorrow. He said yes.