The house felt too small for lies.
Layron sat near the window, half-listening as Anya rambled about the academy excursion with enough energy to fill the entire room by herself. Sunlight spilled through the cracked wooden shutters, painting thin golden lines across the floorboards. Dust floated lazily in the air.
Everything looked normal.
That was the problem.
"...and then Rael actually thought he could outrun a Duskrend," Anya laughed, throwing her hands up. "I swear he almost cried."
Layron forced out a weak chuckle.
His attention wasn't on her story anymore.
It was on the silence between words.
On the tension sitting quietly in the room beside Falkren.
Or rather Gramps.
Even now, the Phantom Shift was terrifyingly perfect. The old man's posture. The slow breathing. The roughness in his voice whenever he spoke. Falkren didn't imitate Gramps.
He became him.
And somehow that made it worse.
Anya leaned over the table, grinning.
"You should've seen it, Layron. I actually landed a clean hit this time."
"On a Duskrend?"
"Damn right."
Layron raised a brow. "You sure it wasn't already dying?"
"Wow." She stared at him flatly. "I come home alive and this is how you greet me?"
Falkren chuckled softly from the corner.
"He's jealous."
"I am not jealous."
"You absolutely are."
Layron rolled his eyes.
Then..
Knock knock.
The room froze.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just two ordinary knocks against the door.
But Layron's stomach tightened instantly.
Falkren's golden eyes flickered once.
Shion.
The timing was exact.
And suddenly, Layron remembered yesterday evening.
The forest had already darkened by then.
Layron sat against a tree, exhausted after training while Shion lazily cleaned one of his arrows nearby. Falkren perched overhead, silent as usual.
"You know," Shion muttered casually, "I probably shouldn't stay at the house tomorrow."
Layron frowned. "Why?"
Shion glanced toward him like the answer was obvious.
"Because your sister isn't stupid."
"...What does that mean?"
"It means if she walks in and sees some random bastard sitting around with you and fake Gramps, she's gonna start asking questions immediately."
Layron hated that he was right.
Shion twirled the arrow between his fingers.
"But if I show up the next day?" He smirked faintly. "Different story."
Falkren tilted his head.
[[Explain.]]
Shion shrugged.
"Simple. You introduce me naturally. Old friend. Drinking buddy. Whatever works."
Layron frowned. "That's a terrible explanation."
"Better than saying 'surprise, your grandpa is actually a shape-shifting mechanical falcon and your brother has an ancient monster living inside him.'"
"...Fair point."
Shion stood slowly, stretching his shoulders.
"Besides..." His smirk sharpened slightly. "I actually was Tensuke's friend."
The joking faded from his voice after that.
Just for a second.
Enough for Layron to notice.
Shion shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking away.
"I'll come tomorrow."
Layron blinked.
"For what?"
Shion glanced back once.
"To invite her."
Knock knock.
Back to present.
Anya blinked, looking toward the door.
"...You expecting someone?"
Layron opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Falkren stood first.
Calm.
Steady.
Perfectly composed.
"Probably him."
"Him?" Anya frowned.
Another knock came.
More impatient this time.
Layron could practically hear Shion getting annoyed outside.
Falkren moved toward the door while Layron's pulse slowly climbed higher in his chest.
This was it.
Once Shion walked through that door Anya would officially become part of all this.
The lies.
The training.
The danger.
Everything.
The door creaked open.
And Shion walked in without waiting for permission.
Long dark coat.
Messy gray hair.
Sharp golden eyes carrying the kind of laziness that looked fake if you stared too long.
He stopped immediately after entering.
Anya stared at him.
Shion stared back.
Silence stretched awkwardly.
Then Anya pointed.
"...Who are you?"
Shion looked mildly offended.
"Damn. Not even a hello?"
Layron immediately looked away before he laughed from sheer stress.
Falkren sighed.
"Anya. This is Shion."
"That explains absolutely nothing."
"Old friend of mine," Falkren added smoothly.
Shion grinned.
"Unfortunately."
Anya's eyes narrowed slightly.
Layron noticed it instantly.
She was analyzing him.
Not casually either.
Carefully.
Like she was trying to figure out where exactly he fit into the room.
Shion noticed too.
His grin faded just a little.
Interesting.
Anya crossed her arms.
"So why are you here?"
Shion casually walked further inside before dropping into a chair like he'd lived there for years.
"Business."
"What business?"
"You."
That answer killed the room instantly.
Layron stiffened.
Anya blinked.
"...Me?"
Falkren stepped in before things got worse.
"Sit down first."
Anya didn't move.
That alone made Layron uneasy.
Before, she would've trusted Gramps immediately.
Now?
She hesitated.
The academy really had changed her.
Finally, she sat slowly.
Shion leaned forward slightly, elbows resting against his knees.
"You've been getting stronger lately."
Anya frowned.
"...So?"
"Faster too."
No response.
"Your instructors noticed."
That got her attention.
Layron saw it immediately.
The subtle tension in her shoulders.
"...How do you know that?"
Shion smirked faintly.
"Because people talk."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he admitted calmly. "It's not."
The room went quiet again.
Then Falkren spoke.
"We want to test something."
Layron looked toward him immediately.
Straight to the point.
Anya frowned harder.
"What kind of test?"
Shion stood.
"Come with us."
The forest swallowed them whole.
Heavy trees blocked most of the sunlight overhead, turning the deeper parts of the woods into a world of shadows and cold wind. Bushes scratched against their legs as they moved further away from the village paths.
Anya stayed quiet during most of the walk.
Too quiet.
Layron walked beside her awkwardly.
"...You okay?"
"No."
Fair.
Eventually Falkren stopped in the middle of a wide clearing surrounded by twisted trees.
The silence there felt strange.
Like even the birds avoided it.
Shion stepped forward casually before tossing two wooden swords across the clearing.
Layron caught one automatically.
Anya grabbed the other after a slight delay.
Her expression turned confused immediately.
"...Seriously?"
Falkren folded his arms.
"Fight."
Anya blinked.
"What?"
"Fight Layron."
Layron frowned too.
"Wait, what?"
Shion smirked faintly from nearby.
"Relax. You're not dying today."
"Comforting," Layron muttered.
Anya looked between them.
"So you dragged me into murder forest for sparring?"
"Not sparring," Falkren corrected.
"Then what?"
Nobody answered immediately.
And somehow...
that silence answered enough already.
Anya slowly gripped the wooden sword tighter.
"...Fine."
Layron stepped forward reluctantly.
He expected hesitation.
Confusion.
Awkwardness.
Instead..
Anya attacked immediately.
Layron's eyes widened.
Fast.
Way too fast.
The wooden blade cut through the air toward his shoulder with terrifying precision.
CRACK.
Layron barely blocked in time.
The impact alone sent vibrations through his arms.
What the hell...
Anya didn't stop.
Second strike.
Third.
Fourth.
Fast.
Clean.
Controlled.
Layron's instincts activated instantly.
Instinct Break flooded his senses.
And suddenly everything became clear.
He could see her muscles tightening before each swing.
The slight shift in her footing before changing direction.
The tiny movement in her shoulders before a feint.
He could read all of it.
Every attack.
Every angle.
Every intention.
But, his body couldn't keep up.
That was the terrifying part.
Layron twisted sideways, narrowly avoiding another strike aimed directly at his ribs.
Too fast...
No.
Not just fast.
Strategic.
Anya wasn't swinging wildly.
She was controlling space.
Forcing movement.
Hunting him.
Layron jumped backward instinctively as her wooden blade slammed against a tree hard enough to crack bark apart.
Anya blinked once.
Then adjusted immediately.
She cut off his escape route before he could move again.
Layron's heartbeat quickened.
She's cornering me..
A sudden chill crawled down his spine.
This felt familiar.
Not because of skill.
Because of instinct.
Anya vanished behind a cluster of bushes.
Layron froze.
Silence.
Then..
RIGHT.
His body moved before conscious thought.
The wooden sword sliced past his neck less than an inch away.
Anya emerged from the shadows instantly, already transitioning into another strike.
Layron ducked barely in time.
His instincts saw everything clearly.
But every counterattack opportunity vanished before his body could act.
It felt horrible.
Like watching victory happen without being able to reach it.
Shion's smirk slowly disappeared.
"...Hold on."
Falkren's mechanical eye narrowed sharply.
Anya pressed forward again.
No hesitation.
No panic.
Just pressure.
Pure pressure.
Layron retreated deeper into the clearing, breathing harder now.
He could read her perfectly.
That wasn't the problem.
The problem was..
she was adapting too.
Fast.
Too fast.
Anya suddenly shifted her stance.
Layron's instincts screamed immediately.
LOW.
He jumped.
The sweeping strike missed his legs by a hair.
But Anya had already predicted the dodge.
Her second strike came upward instantly.
CRACK.
The wooden sword slammed directly into Layron's side.
Pain exploded through his ribs.
Layron stumbled violently across the dirt.
Anya froze.
"...Wait."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"I actually hit you?"
Layron coughed sharply, forcing himself upright.
Anya lowered the wooden sword slowly.
Her breathing wasn't even heavy yet.
But Layron's was.
Dust clung to his clothes as he forced himself back onto his feet, one hand pressed against his side where the strike had landed.
Yet
something felt wrong.
Anya's brows furrowed.
Not because she hit him.
Because she shouldn't have missed that many times.
Her mind replayed the last few seconds instinctively.
Every swing.
Every feint.
Every angle she forced him into.
Layron had seen all of them.
Not guessed.
Seen.
His body moved before her strikes fully committed. Sometimes too early. Sometimes awkwardly. But never blindly.
The old Layron would've panicked.
The old Layron would've frozen after the first attack.
But this Layron
escaped.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Even while losing ground.
Anya stared at him differently now.
"...Since when," she muttered quietly, "could you move like that?"
Shion stared at her now.
Not casually.
Seriously.
For the first time since arriving,
the humor disappeared from his face completely.
"...Yeah," he muttered quietly.
Falkren said nothing.
But his mechanical eye kept flickering rapidly.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Watching.
Because all three of them realized the same terrifying thing at once.
Anya wasn't fighting like a beginner.
She was fighting like someone whose body remembered violence before her mind did.
---
To be Continued...
---