_____MI'KAEL SERAPHANE_____

I woke to the crackling of the fire, its warmth creeping over my skin, but the quiet was suffocating. My body no longer felt like a prison of pain, but the doubts and fears still gnawed at me.

Ravyn sat by the window, the same still figure I’d seen countless times during my recovery. He didn’t look at me as I stood, testing my strength. My body was still weak, but it didn’t matter anymore.

It was time.

I approached him, the silence thick between us. His voice, steady and unwavering, broke it.

"You're up."

I nodded, meeting his gaze. "It's time we talked. About everything."

Ravyn turned his head slightly, studying me with an intensity I couldn’t read. After a long pause, he sighed, as though bracing himself for something he had been expecting.

"Sit down."

I didn’t argue. I took the seat across from him, feeling the weight of his stare.

"Coincidentally, you were at the right place at the right time. I’m thankful you saved me, but I demand an explanation."

His eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable. He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for something on the shelf, pulling out a letter. The familiar handwriting on the envelope made my chest tighten. The ink was smudged—evidence of tears that must have stained the paper.

“Your mother gave me this letter the day before she died,” Ravyn said, his voice strained. “She knew she was going to die, and she entrusted me with your safety. She knew what was coming.”

My hand shook as I reached for the letter. Why had she kept this from me? How could she have known? A flood of questions rushed through me, but I pressed them aside as I read the words that followed.

“In case things go wrong, protect Mi'kael. Do whatever it takes. Save him from what’s coming.”

I kept reading, the words blurring in front of me as I struggled to process them.

“I suspect they already know. About him and the Mark on his left arm. That’s why I’m convinced my time is limited. When that day comes, they’ll try to harm Mi'kael in my absence. So I need you to come back here, to the home you hate, just like you did when my husband died. Take him away from this place and never let him look back.”

Her words echoed in my mind, but I couldn’t understand. Why hadn’t she left with me? Why had she stayed to endure all of this alone?

I shook my head in disbelief. My mother had always been clever, calculated. She wouldn’t have taken such extreme measures unless there was no other choice. But I knew the Clan—knew how far they’d go to get what they wanted.

I rose, a fresh determination taking root in my chest.

“I need my blaster back, Uncle,” I said, voice steady but fierce. “Don’t try to stop me. If I don’t do this, I’ll have to live with the guilt that my mother died because I didn’t act.”

Ravyn’s stoic expression didn’t change. His dark eyes, however, fixed on me like a vice.

"I promised your mother I wouldn’t let you come to harm, Mi'kael. You have to understand—this is for your own good."

"My own good?" I scoffed, frustration leaking into my words. "Should I just sit idly by and let them hunt me down like an animal?"

Before he could speak, I pressed on, my emotions spilling over.

“Should I spend every day burdened by the knowledge that I did nothing? That I couldn’t lift a finger the day she died? The fear that gripped me then has filled me with self-hatred.”

I barely recognized my own voice as it cracked, emotion rising from deep within me. The memories of that day—the fear, the helplessness—flooded back. I stood there, frozen, my heart pounding in my chest.

_____RAVYN SERAPHANE_____

I watched Mi'kael, the fire in his eyes a stark contrast to the despair in his voice. It was painful to see him so broken, so determined, and yet so young. His words, heavy with grief and anger, pressed against my chest.

He needed to hear the truth, even if it shattered what little resolve he had left. I took a deep breath, feeling the years of silence and guilt settle heavily in my throat.

“Mi'kael,” I said softly, “your mother entrusted me with your safety because she believed that no matter what happened, I would keep you from harm. She trusted me to protect you—from them, from yourself. From making decisions that would destroy the person you are.”

The fire crackled between us, casting shifting shadows on his face. I saw the doubt clouding his eyes, the anger and desperation clawing at him. But he couldn’t understand. Not yet.

“I know what it feels like to bear that kind of guilt,” I continued, “but the path you’re choosing will only bring you more of it. You have to trust me. Trust that I’m trying to protect you—not just from them, but from losing yourself.”

Mi’kael’s breath hitched, and I could see the war inside him.

“I’ll let you go,” I said, finally, “but only if you can beat me in a spar.”

He froze. Then, as expected, his eyes flashed with fire.

_____MI'KAEL SERAPHANE_____

The crisp morning air bit at my skin as we stepped outside, leaves rustling in the wind.

I raised my right hand near the side of my face, fingers curled. Then I rotated my palm toward my left shoulder and drew it down in a clean diagonal slice across my chest.

My Katana materialised with a brilliant blue light as I tightly gripped my sword, raising it towards Ravyn.

He gave a quiet, surprised chuckle.

“That thing won’t save you,” he said, walking to the weapons rack. He picked up a simple wooden sword and twirled it lightly. “All the tech in the world won’t fix bad form.”

I narrowed my eyes. “It’s not about tech.”

“No,” he replied. “It’s about discipline. You want to use your father’s blade? Then prove you deserve it.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. The anger, the helplessness—the storm that had been building since the Fall—surged forward. I lunged at him, the katana humming faintly as it sliced through the air in a sharp, controlled arc.

He deflected it with the wooden sword like it weighed nothing.

Again and again I pressed forward, unleashing every technique I remembered, every ounce of pain I’d been holding in. But Ravyn—he moved like water. Every slash redirected. Every charge turned aside. Every strike met with a counter I couldn’t follow.

Then, in one swift motion, he swept my leg and dropped me hard onto the ground.

The breath tore from my lungs.

“You’re too weak,” Ravyn said, not unkindly. “You rely on your father’s style, but you don’t understand it. You don’t even know the basics. If you want to fight them—if you want to survive—you need to learn the Clan’s true sword style. Not just fragments of his.”

His words cut deeper than the fall. I pushed myself up, fists clenched.

He leaned forward. “You’re going to keep fighting. I see that. So if you’re going to walk into the fire, I’ll make sure you’re prepared for the heat.”

“That means,” he continued, “you’re not using your Celestial Bound Arm until you learn how to wield a real weapon first.”

My heartbeat thundered in my chest. For the first time, I understood—this wasn’t just training.

This was preparation for war.

“Then let’s start,” I said, wiping dirt from my face.

Ravyn’s mouth twitched into the smallest smile. He raised the wooden sword again, and I steadied my grip on the katana’s hilt.

Whatever lay ahead, I wasn’t just surviving anymore.

I was learning to fight back.