An Uneasy Reunion

Sorken's grip tightened around the training staff, the wood warm and familiar beneath his calloused fingers. He circled his opponent, the stone floor of the chamber cold against his bare feet. Beads of sweat traced a path down his furrowed brow, the tension in his muscles mirroring the intensity of his concentration. His eyes were locked onto Tamara, tracking her every movement, her stance a mirror of his own, yet holding a grace that he envied. Her staff flashed towards his left side, a swift arc that was meant to land squarely on his ribs. He reacted, muscles coiling as he moved his staff to block, the sharp clank of the wooden weapons echoing through the chamber, a rhythm of their practice.

They had been at this for weeks, and while their initial sparring sessions had been rough, they had adapted quickly, their bodies moving with a grace that they could never have imagined possible a few weeks ago. After the cruel announcement in the chamber, Sorken, Jorah, and Kesta had been thrown into a whirlwind of activity. It had been an intense period of preparation that had been both exhausting and exhilarating. They were given a small barrack of their own, which was far better than the cells they were in, and for the first time, Sorken felt they could finally settle in a bit. They had also been given food that was meant for guards, which, if Sorken was honest, was even tastier than the food Tamara used to make. They still had their chains on but they had been given training sessions to prepare themselves for the exploration they were supposed to do. After many days of torture and pain, this felt like a paradise.

Tamara's voice broke through his concentration, her tone firm but encouraging. "You're defending well, Sorken, but you need to be more aggressive. Don't just wait for me to make a move, seize the moment and dominate the space." She shifted into a fighting stance, her body a study in controlled power, each movement precise and deliberate, like a well-oiled machine. "You can't be passive in the ruins, you need to take charge of your surroundings. Defense is the ultimate offense and here, you have to take the initiative to block your enemy's every move"

Sorken finally met Tamara during the training. He never dared think that she would ignore him, and she didn't. 

That day, as she arrived on the ground, she saw him, and he could feel the longing and sadness in her eyes. She came running to him and took him in her embrace. Certainly, in this new world, she was far more powerful than him. He was helpless against it, but he was also looking forward to her growth. 

Their hands trudged against each other, calluses present on the screen's hand as Tamara suddenly gripped it as she kept looking into his eyes. No words were said, as they knew what the other was thinking. Jorah and Kesta won't get enough of teasing him that day and certainly, that was also the day he was able to sleep peacefully since coming to this world. 

As sorken was thinking of their re-union, another strike almost injured him. Tamara looked at him and grinned. "Listen to me, you understand what I am saying, right? The earlier grin was replaced with a serious demeanor.

Sorken nodded, his jaw set, adjusting his footing, a silent acknowledgment of her assessment. He had always relied more on evasion and counterattacks, a strategy born out of necessity rather than choice. But Tamara was right, her words a sharp prod to his stagnating spirit. They had seen firsthand the casual cruelty of this world, and a passive approach was not going to get them out of this mess. If they were venturing into ancient ruins, a place they described to be filled with unknown threats, they needed to adapt, and that meant learning to take the offensive. This was a battle to survive, and he needed to become more than just someone who is trying to keep himself safe.

He let out a yell, a primal sound that resonated from the depths of his soul, a combination of rage and determination. He unleashed a flurry of strikes towards Tamara, the wooden staff a blur in the air. He pushed his body to its absolute limit and the movements were much faster and more powerful than they ever had been before. Tamara adeptly blocked each swing, her staff meeting his with sharp clacks, deflecting every blow with practiced ease. She sidestepped to avoid his last crushing blow, her movements as fluid and elegant as water flowing over stones.

"Much better!" she praised, her eyes twinkling with approval. "But don't let emotion override your technique, Sorken. You are still relying on your emotions too much. You need to control that." She lowered her staff, her breathing steady, the picture of serene control. "You are becoming better though, I didn't think you will be this good at it."

They continued their sparring, each movement fluid and powerful, the rhythm of combat washing away Sorken's lingering doubts and fears. With every session, his confidence grew, his movements became more precise, and his attacks more powerful. He could see now that Tamara was a gifted fighter, every action controlled, every movement efficient. She was a force of nature, an indomitable will that had transformed itself into a weapon. He could see her growth every day, making him feel that if anyone can break out from this situation, it is Tamara.

After one of their grueling training sessions, Tamara noticed Sorken wincing as he massaged his right shoulder. Her brows furrowed in concern. "Are you injured?" she asked, her voice softening. She approached him, her expression conveying genuine care and worry.

"It's fine, just a little sore from yesterday's sparring," Sorken replied, trying to brush it off. But the pain was still there, throbbing deep in his muscles. He didn't want to admit it, but he was still getting used to all of this new physical work and his body was still adjusting to it.

"Here, let me help." Tamara gently placed her palms on his shoulder, her touch sending a strange shiver down his spine. "Mend," she murmured, her voice soft, her eyes closed. A strange sensation emanated from her hands, a warm, tingling energy that spread through his shoulder, melting away the aches and the pain. It was almost as if someone had reached inside him and was healing all the wounds that were there.

Sorken's eyes widened in surprise. He had heard tales of healing magic from the guards, stories whispered around campfires late at night, but he had never witnessed it firsthand. It was like some otherworldly power was at play, and he was the one who was on the receiving end. The pain seemed to fade away, replaced by a pleasant warmth that soothed his sore muscles.

"That feels much better, thank you!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with wonder, as Tamara removed her hands. The relief was palpable, making his shoulder feel as good as new. He looked at her with newfound respect and awe, his eyes searching hers, trying to make sense of the miracle he had just experienced.

"We can't have you hampered before our first exploration, now can we?" she said with a small smile playing on her lips, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of playfulness and determination. Sorken returned her smile, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest, her gentle care a source of comfort in this dark place. He had come so far in these weeks, even though he felt he was still not enough, not even close to what he was before coming to this hellhole of a place.

"Is it the magic you are learning?" Sorken asked a hopeful note in his voice, wanting to understand this new reality, the nature of the power that had healed him. He desperately wanted to understand the world he was in, so he could find a way to survive.

"Yes," Tamara replied, her face turning more serious, "this is one of the basic healing spells called 'mend', it can heal minor injuries, cuts, and bruises, but at this stage, that's all I am capable of doing. It is not much though."

"Stage?" Sorken inquired, his brows furrowed, his curiosity piqued.

"I am still learning about it myself," she admitted, her eyes reflecting her own eagerness to learn, "but the magic we control is called mana, and the people who can control it are divided into two groups: Inheritors and Onlookers. These are further divided into nine stages, each one representing the degree of control one has over mana." She had a dreamy tone while explaining the magic, almost as if she had discovered something new that she was eager to share.

"You are a ninth stage Diviner then?" Sorken inquired, his voice filled with awe. He couldn't believe the power she had and the possibility of reaching that stage himself.

Tamara smiled softly, a mixture of pride and humility in her eyes. "Yes," she replied. "I could have become an onlooker, but they have limited resources here, their resources are just not as many as it is for us. The kingdom we are in is called 'Santara', and it is a continent nation, one of the biggest in the world, in fact. There are eight other continents, and most of them are deserted. There are other nations on some of the continents too, but they are too far to learn about, so we are still learning about Santara. After they conquer this world too, they will start studying those," she paused for a moment before adding. "I am a diviner because it's better, why would I choose otherwise? "

"You said you chose to be a diviner? Is it better, though?" Sorken probed, his mind still struggling to grasp all of the information she was giving him, trying to organize the mess and make sense of the world around him.

"Yes," Tamara said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "We have access to far more spells. Inheritors can also use the spells that belong to other gods that are subordinated to their god or are in alliance with them. We aren't limited by the restrictions that onlookers have. But I do not know much about them, so I cannot tell you more about why not to choose that." She shrugged, her attention focused, as she was trying to make sense of everything that was going on around her. "And besides, we are in the kingdom of a god, why would I choose otherwise, really?"

"How are the others like? The other two apprentices and the diviner who chose to train you?" Sorken asked, trying to get an idea of what the future might look like. What he really wanted to know, however, was if the others also had the same feelings about this place, or had they fully embraced this new world. He was desperate to know if there was anyone else who would help them if they decided to rebel.

Tamara paused, considering his question. "We don't get to talk with each other much," she began, her voice thoughtful, "but from what I've learned, they used to be… podcasters. Can you believe that? And if that wasn't bad enough, their podcast was about how lizards are running the world. Pathetic, really." She snorted a little, making Sorken chuckle as well.

"They seem very content to be here," she continued, her voice filled with a hint of sarcasm, "even though I am still having second thoughts about all of this. There are fewer things to worry about, and there are far more interesting things to look forward to. Varakh is quite nice, as he explains everything that he can and tries to help us out. Ted is a bit of an ass though." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Even this expedition is meant to prove our abilities, which will help us to learn magic at a place they call the 'Land of Knowledge' a floating island. Isn't that awesome?" Her voice was filled with excitement, her eyes shining with a genuine sense of wonder.

Sorken nodded, his mind reeling from all of this new information, the idea of a floating island both awe-inspiring and utterly surreal. "Once you have learned enough magic," he began, a hopeful note in his voice, "and I become free, by becoming a guard or whatever, we can try to find a way back home, or perhaps look for a nice place to settle here." He was still struggling with this new world, a world he never wanted to be a part of. Yet, the thought of living with Tamara here, somewhere, was enough to give him a shred of hope. He knew that even if he was not a big shot, his love would not leave him to die in this cruel world and they could live a peaceful life taking care of each other. A small smile crept on his face thinking about it.

Tamara didn't reply, her face remaining calm, but her eyes held a hidden turmoil. She understood, more than anything, the desire to leave. But at the same time, a part of her was fascinated by the magic, the power, and the wonders of this new world. She was conflicted, torn between her old life and this new reality. But she nodded nonetheless, her calm face a mirror to his hopes.

He wanted to talk more, to delve into her feelings, and her thoughts, to lose himself in her presence. However, he knew that they were both exhausted, their bodies aching from the day's training. There would be enough time for conversations in the coming days, the exploration would give them ample time to talk. He tried to kiss her, his lips brushing against her, but she gently stopped him, her expression tired. "I'm too tired," she whispered, her eyes heavy with sleep. "I need to go back now.