The afternoon sun burned low over Vaelstorm, its light turning the harbor water a deep gold. The air was quiet except for the distant crash of waves against the cliffs — rhythmic, steady, like the breathing of something vast beneath the sea.
Will had returned from his short patrol along the coast, boots still damp with saltwater. He found Hunnt finishing another set of long sword drills near the practice field. Willa watched from the shade of the nearby wall, her arms crossed, eyes tracking every movement.
Will called out as he approached.
"Hunnt, after we went to the coast, the monsters' behavior didn't change. They're still gathered near the shallows — calm, too calm. Not a single one rampaged. It's like they're… waiting for something."
Hunnt stopped mid-motion, lowering his sword. His expression shifted slightly, focused but distant. "Waiting?"
"Yeah," Will said, shaking his head. "They move in groups, like they're being ordered. Even the small ones don't fight each other. That's not normal."
Hunnt's gaze hardened. He turned toward the sea in the distance, eyes narrowing. For a brief moment, his senses sharpened — but he restrained his instinctive willpower. Observation, not display. His focus stretched outward, feeling the faint pulse of movement near the coast. The creatures were still, their presence synchronized. Disciplined.
"This isn't migration," Hunnt murmured. "It's control."
Will frowned. "That's what I said. There's something wrong with those monsters. It's like something's commanding them."
Hunnt sheathed his blade. "For now, don't get close. Keep watch from a distance and report any change. If this isn't migration…" His eyes narrowed slightly, "…then I'll hunt whatever's responsible."
Will nodded. "Alright. I'll head back and keep an eye on the coast. If anything happens, I'll signal."
He turned to his sister. "Willa, you stay here. If things go wrong, I want you ready to run. Understand?"
"But brother—"
"No." His voice was firm, not harsh. "You just recovered from fever. I can run faster. If something happens, I'll draw it away. You get Hunnt out."
Willa clenched her jaw, frustration flickering across her face, but she finally nodded. "Fine… but don't do anything stupid."
Will grinned faintly. "That's your job, not mine."
He slung his bow over his shoulder and disappeared down the coastal path.
---
When the dust settled, only Hunnt and Willa remained in the yard. Hunnt wiped sweat from his brow and continued his training, repeating the same flowing cuts over and over until the air itself seemed to hum around him.
Willa sat nearby, her shield resting across her knees, watching in silence. There was something captivating about the way he moved — not mechanical like a guild instructor, but deliberate and alive, each motion full of purpose.
After an hour, Hunnt stopped. The steady rhythm of his breathing echoed in the quiet. He set his sword aside and sat on the edge of the training post, letting his muscles cool.
Willa stood and walked toward him. "Hunnt," she said softly. "Can you train me?"
Hunnt glanced up, one brow raised. "Train you?"
She nodded, determination flickering behind her eyes. "I want to help my brother. I don't want to just watch from behind a wall. That's why I chose sword and shield — so I could fight beside him and protect him when he shoots."
Hunnt studied her expression carefully. "Are you forcing yourself to fight for him?"
Willa blinked. "What do you mean?"
"If your only reason to fight is someone else, you'll die before you even swing," Hunnt said calmly. "And if you fall, your brother will follow. A shield carried without will is just dead weight."
Willa shook her head. "No. We decided together. Will wanted the bow; I took the sword and shield. They were our parents' weapons."
Hunnt's gaze softened slightly. "Your parents were hunters?"
She nodded slowly. "That's what Grandma told us. They were killed by monsters years ago. But she never told us which one, or how. Every time we ask, she just says they died fighting to protect others. I look like Father, Will looks like Mother. So… we use what they used."
Hunnt was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "That's a good reason. A memory can be stronger than any steel."
He stood, brushing the dirt from his hands. "Show me what you've learned."
Willa nodded quickly and raised her sword. She moved through the drills she'd learned from the guild — a few stiff slashes, a forward thrust, and a simple guard motion with her shield. She finished with an uncertain smile. "That's… all they taught us."
Hunnt crossed his arms. "That's it? They teach that and call it training?"
She frowned. "Hey, it's not like you know how to use sword and shield either."
Hunnt smirked. "Is that so?"
He held out his hand. "Give me your weapon."
Reluctantly, Willa handed him her sword and shield. Hunnt tested their weight, rolling his shoulders. Then, without a word, he stepped forward.
His first strike — an Overhead Slash — came down fast but smooth, the sound of the blade slicing air sharp and clean.
He flowed immediately into a Rising Slash, the sword lifting upward in a precise vertical motion.
Then he transitioned into a Side Slash, his stance low and stable, shield shifting seamlessly to guard his left side.
A quick Thrust followed, his motion compact, powerful.
Hunnt's feet never broke rhythm. He pivoted lightly and struck with a Shield Bash, the edge of the shield snapping forward like a hammer. Then, almost without pause, he flowed into a Guard Slash — an offensive guard that intercepted an imagined strike midair and turned it into a rippling counterattack, blade flashing in a clean horizontal arc.
The movement didn't stop there. Hunnt stepped back — a perfectly timed Backstep, swift and precise, his boots barely scuffing the dirt. The motion reset his stance, opening an invisible space between him and his target. He inhaled, then lunged forward again with a rising cut — the momentum linking flawlessly into the next sequence, fluid as running water.
Each movement was measured and fluid, not forced — like a song carried through steel.
Hunnt lowered the sword and looked at her. "That," he said quietly, "is the basic form of sword and shield. Each move covers another. Strike. Guard. Counter. Every motion has purpose."
Willa stood frozen, eyes wide. "That was incredible…" she breathed. "The guild never— I mean— you made it look effortless. Can you teach me that?"
Hunnt handed back her weapon. "I can. But understand this — training with me will be harder than anything the guild puts you through. I don't teach to pass exams. I teach to survive."
Willa smiled faintly, gripping the hilt of her sword tighter. "Then I'll survive. I'm ready."
Hunnt gave a small, approving nod. "We'll see."
The late sunlight caught his eyes — steady, unwavering, sharp as tempered steel.
In that quiet moment, as the waves rolled against the cliffs, Willa felt something she hadn't in years: the faint, burning pull of purpose.