The inner courtyard of Azoth’s castle was calm. Birds fluttered between the towers, and the cool breeze carried petals from the gardens. In the midst of that serenity, the Sage of Air sat upon a flat stone. His white hair fell to his shoulders, his simple robe swayed with the wind, and his eyes seemed to gaze beyond the visible world.

Asori and Blair greeted him respectfully, though he didn’t move.

—You are the new bearer of Air? —he asked in a deep voice, his eyes barely opening.

Asori scratched the back of his neck, uneasy.
—That’s what they say. I’m still not convinced.

The Sage finally looked at him. His eyes were like ancient skies: patient, profound.
—I don’t train just anyone. I only accept disciples who bring me my favorite dessert.

Blair raised an eyebrow.
—Dessert?

The Sage nodded solemnly.
—A freshly baked green apple pie.

Asori’s jaw dropped.
—You’ve got to be kidding me.

The Sage closed his eyes again, as if the matter were settled.
—If you cannot bring me a green apple pie, you cannot bring discipline to the wind.

Asori turned to Blair, outraged.
—Are you telling me my destiny depends on… pastry?

Blair sighed, pulling her hood tighter over her head.
—Let’s go to the market.

The capital’s streets were alive with activity. Carts piled high with vegetables, stalls bursting with spices, tents draped in colorful fabrics. Merchants shouted prices, and the air was heavy with sweet, sour, and spicy scents.

Blair walked beside Asori, her hood drawn low to hide her white hair. Her steps were firm, yet her eyes wandered with a trace of nostalgia.

Asori glanced at her sideways.
—Doesn’t look like it’s your first time here.

Blair smiled sadly.
—It’s not. This was my city, remember? But… for everyone here, I’m dead.

Asori raised a brow.
—Gotta admit, you’re handling it pretty well for a ghost in a cloak.

Blair elbowed him.
—Idiot.

They kept walking until Blair stopped before a bakery stall. The scent of apple and cinnamon filled the air.

—Here —she said, pointing.

The vendor presented them with a golden, shining pie.
—Red apple pie, fresh from the oven.

Asori sighed.
—Well… red, green… what difference could it make?

Blair shook her head.
—You’ll see.

Back at the courtyard, they handed the pie to the Sage. He tasted it calmly, closed his eyes, and sighed.
—Sweet… but no. These are red apples.

Asori nearly choked.
—Seriously?!

Blair hid her laughter behind her cloak.
—I told you.

The Sage nodded.
—Come back. And don’t fail again.

The walk back to the market was slower. Asori kicked stones, frustrated.
—Am I the Warrior of Air or an apprentice baker?

Blair smiled, savoring his bad mood.
—Maybe both.

They stopped at a fruit stall, where green apples gleamed under the sun. Blair picked one up, studying it carefully.

—Do you know why I want to defeat Zeknier?

Asori raised a brow.
—Besides the obvious—that he’s a lunatic butcher who wants to conquer the world?

Blair sighed.
—Because I want my people to live without fear. I lost my parents because of him. And I know if no one stops him, all of Azoth will fall. I don’t care if they think I’m dead. My duty is still alive.

Asori stared at her in silence. Her words weren’t grandiose; they were raw. For a moment, sarcasm caught in his throat.

—You must be very lonely —he said, almost without meaning to.

Blair lowered the apple, surprised. She looked at him with a soft, wistful smile.
—Yes. But now… not as much.

Asori averted his eyes, his face tinged with red.
—Sentimental silver-haired princess… that’s new.

Blair laughed lightly.
—Idiot.

When they returned, they brought the green apple pie. The Sage tasted it, closed his eyes… and allowed the faintest smile.
—Now this is right.

Asori threw his hands skyward.
—Finally!

The Sage turned to Blair.
—You may leave. This training is between him and me.

Blair nodded, pulling back her hood and brushing her hair aside.
—I need a real bath anyway. I’ll see you later, Asori.

He grimaced.
—Great… you’re abandoning me with an old man who lives on desserts.

Blair cast him a playful glance before walking off.
—Survive, and maybe I’ll bring you bread later.

Once they were alone, the Sage fixed his gaze on Asori. His stare was heavy, as if it could pierce through him.
—She won’t tell you yet. But you must know.

Asori swallowed.
—Know what?

The Sage drew a deep breath.
—Blair… she is stronger than Zeknier. Far stronger.

Asori’s eyes widened in shock.

—But —the Sage continued gravely— there is one detail.

Asori leaned forward, expectant.

The Sage closed his eyes, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
—That power… does not always belong to her.

Asori’s heart skipped a beat.