Four dates?

A week had went by so quickly, I didn't even notice the time had passed, and Zephara's absence hung over the castle like a silent specter. No word, no whisper of her whereabouts reached my ears.

Yet life, as it is wont to do, marched on. The training center had become a second home, a forge where my skills were tempered under Ava's tutelage. Each day was a step forward, a dance of blades and magic, but the elusive victory over Ava remained just out of reach.

Today, the clatter of pots and pans replaced the ring of steel. The kitchen in the training center was alive with the aroma of spices and the warmth of the oven. Me, apron-clad and armed with a wooden spoon, was in my element, my hands moving with the confidence of a seasoned chef.

Ava, less sure in this battlefield of culinary arts, had insisted on assisting. "I may not be as adept with a knife as I am with a sword, but I can follow orders," she'd said with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes.