The air was still, the tension hung thick — tight as a string drawn to its limit.
"I... I can't kill him, I... can't kill Soren," Kaelen said, voice trembling as he stared at the master with a defiant gaze.
Soren looked at Kaelen — a mixture of shock, surprise, and warmth spread across his face.
"One leaves alive, or both die," Master Brann said, the smirk still on his face. He was obviously enjoying this, though he tried not to show it.
"Soren, we don't have to do this," Kaelen said softly, his eyes pleading.
"Kaelen," Soren said, one could hear the heartbreak sounding in his voice. "You have been the closest thing I have had to family, you have been more than a brother to me.
"I wouldn't accept this if we had a choice." Soren continued, voice steady but broken. "And as it stands, Kaelen, we don't."
"Soren," Kaelen called out, pain in his voice.
"Kaelen, if we don't... we both die," Soren said again, a lone tear traveling down his cheeks. "I don't want you dying 'cause of me."
Soren had never shed a tear before.
Not when he was sold by his parents as a child.
Not when he was captured by the Masters from his former owner.
And definitely not through the horrors of this place.
Now here he was, shedding a tear for this boy. The emotions he felt were strange to him. He could neither explain nor comprehend them.
"Kaelen!! Don't hold back!!" Soren yelled as he lunged suddenly at Kaelen, sword in front, aimed straight — he was looking to end the fight quickly, and give his friend a quick death.
Kaelen saw the attack, sidestepped, weaving the sword. He jumped back, giving himself room to breathe.
Soren swung his sword again, this time aiming for Kaelen's neck.
Kaelen ducked under the blade, parried the return swing, and a swift kick to the abdomen sent Soren rolling back.
The two boys stared at each other, eyes locked in and scanning for the next move.
They finally locked eyes and slowly they both smiled.
They lunged at each other.
One last fight.
One last dance.
----
Clang
Metal kissed metal.
The two boys locked swords, sweat tracing lines down their bare backs.
They had been at this dance for the past three minutes.
They pushed each other back. Kaelen sprung forward, feinting an attack with his left sword. Soren instinctively blocked the sword; the right sword came down and cut his thigh.
"Hnn..." a painful moan escaped his lips. He immediately kicked Kaelen backwards, but Kaelen wasn't done.
Kaelen lunged — low and fast — almost too quickly.
But Soren was ready. He pivoted sharply, parrying Kaelen's left blade with practiced ease, and as Kaelen's right sword arced in from the other side, Soren met it head-on with a sharp twist of his long sword. Steel sparked. The force jolted Kaelen's arms.
Soren countered — stepping in — slashing down at Kaelen's shoulder.
Kaelen weaved left, the sword whispering past his ear. In a flash, he ducked low, spun on his heel, and swept for Soren's legs — but Soren leapt back, his blade swinging to keep Kaelen's twin knives at bay.
Kaelen had expected it. He ducked under the blade, then sent one blade carving upwards into the air, the other slashed at Soren's abdomen.
Soren moved his lower body backwards, avoiding the low blade, while using his sword to block the other sword.
He then sent a low kick. Kaelen rolled back to avoid it.
For a moment they stood apart, breathing hard, sweat glistening on their bare skin.
"You're holding back, Kaelen," Soren said softly. His eyes — sad, but firm.
"Don't."
Kaelen gritted his teeth, charged again — fast and brutal. The left blade flashed high — blocked — but the right came low, scraping Soren's thigh again, drawing a sharp line of crimson. Sharp pain jolted through Soren's nerves, but he used it.
Eyes turning cold, Soren started an array of attacks. He caught the hand Kaelen slashed him with, drew him close with it and delivered a sharp elbow to Kaelen's chest.
Kaelen stumbled back, pain clouded his vision, as a few ribs cracked. Soren swung his sword again at Kaelen. With a burst of motion, Kaelen dropped low and flipped into a somersault, momentum carrying him past Soren's blade in a blur of movement.
Soren was in front of him as soon as he landed, arms swung for a punch.
Kaelen weaved under the punch. But he didn't see Soren's thrusted sword in time; he weaved to the side at the last minute, but the blade grazed him, drawing blood.
Kaelen held back no more.
Soren saw his demeanor change, he smiled and stilled himself for the next set of attacks.
Kaelen ducked low, tucking into a somersault that carried him clean under Soren's swing. He rolled, came up fast — blades flashing — striking without pause.
The left blade swept high, forcing Soren's guard up — but it was a feint. The right blade came slicing low, catching Soren's arm. He stumbled, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Kaelen pressed the attack.
A high slash — parried.
A spinning cut to the ribs — blocked, but barely.
Kaelen pivoted, stepping inside Soren's weakened guard, twin blades a blur of steel and fury.
Soren raised his sword for a final desperate block — but Kaelen's left blade hooked the hilt, tearing the weapon aside. The right blade punched forward — straight into Soren's chest.
For a heartbeat, time held.
Soren's eyes widened — shock, pain — then softened.
"...I am... I am sorry..." Kaelen whispered, breath hitching, as he watched the strength leave Soren's body.
"Don't be... You... freed me," Soren said, his voice a tiny whisper. He died smiling.
Kaelen stepped back, trembling, as Soren crumpled to the bloodstained floor.
He looked down at the blade stained with the blood of his friend. Soren was the only human thing to him in this place.
He's gone, I... I killed him, Kaelen thought to himself, his heart aching. This pain felt too real, it was worse than anything he had endured in this place.
He clenched the hilts so tightly his knuckles whitened, rage flaring wild in his chest.
At the Masters.
At this cursed place.
At the chains they had wrapped around him since the day he was stolen from freedom.
At himself.
His vision blurred.
"I hate you…" Kaelen whispered, his voice low and trembling — not at Soren, but at the walls, the Masters watching, the silent gods who let this happen.
"I hate you all."
His teeth ground together as the heat in his chest turned cold — an iron-cold fury. His hands no longer trembled. They were steady. Too steady.
They had won. They had made him what they wanted. A weapon.
And he hated them for it.
He stared down at Soren's body, jaw tight, breath shallow.
"Forgive me," he whispered to the fallen boy.
He stood up slowly, locking eyes with Master Brann.
Master Brann expected to see defeat, pain and sadness spelled clearly on the boy's face. He wanted to enjoy it — pain tastes like sweet wine to him.
Kaelen never gave him the satisfaction. His gaze was cold, his eyes were like clear still water — void of color and emotion.
He stepped slowly to the master, never once breaking the gaze. Brann instinctively balled his fist.
Kaelen stood in front of Brann, dropped the sword at his feet.
"He's dead, I'll leave now, Master," Kaelen said and walked out of the dueling room. His humanity dead alongside Soren.
----