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.

The next morning, Rhommie arrived at the training yard with a different plan. She couldn't just watch and tease forever—she needed to show him she understood what mattered to him. She walked past the practice dummies to a carved stone basin filled with clear water. Warriors washed their hands here before training, a ritual of respect. She dipped her fingers in and felt the cold shock travel up her arms. This place held meaning for him, so it would hold meaning for her too. When he arrived, she was already holding a practice sword, standing by the basin with wet hands. He paused, then walked over and placed his hands in the water beside hers. Their fingers didn't touch, but they stood close enough that she could hear his breathing. He picked up his sword and began his drills. She followed every movement, her wings tucked tight, her focus sharp as his blade. After training, she noticed a blue wooden sign near the edge of the yard. It glowed softly in the morning light, announcing a gathering for warriors who wanted to improve their skills. She read it twice, then glanced at him. He was reading it too. This was her chance to join something he valued. She tapped the sign with one finger and raised an eyebrow. He nodded once. They would both attend. That afternoon, she found a circle of bright blue grass surrounding glowing mushrooms. The air felt warm here, and several warriors sat talking in low voices. She sat at the edge of the circle and listened to their stories about training and discipline. One mentioned a pole covered in colorful ribbons where warriors gathered to honor those who had won difficult victories. Her heart beat faster. Winning his heart would be that kind of victory—one that required courage and dedication. She needed to see that place. By evening, she stood before the ribbon pole. Dozens of bright strips of fabric twisted in the breeze, each one marking someone's success. She reached up and touched a blue ribbon, feeling its smooth texture. One day, her own ribbon would hang here. The warrior appeared beside her, his shoulder almost touching hers. He looked at the ribbons, then at her face. She met his eyes and didn't look away. He didn't either. The sun set behind them, painting the ribbons gold and pink. She finally understood—this world gave her everything she needed to prove herself worthy. She just had to keep showing up.