Memory. Part: 3

Kael's boots struck the stone floor with brisk, controlled steps as he made his way through the winding halls of the fortress. The lingering warmth of the Emberlit Hall faded behind him, replaced by the crisp night air as he stepped outside.

The sky stretched overhead, vast and endless, its dark canvas pierced by silver stars. The moon hung above, casting its pale glow over the fortress walls, illuminating the uneven path that led toward the training grounds.

Kael exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his silver hair.

He didn't know why he let Zirath get under his skin so easily. Maybe it was the way the bastard spoke—so sure of himself, so utterly convinced that strength was the only thing that mattered. Maybe it was the way he barely reacted, like nothing ever truly reached him.

Or maybe, deep down, it was because Zirath had a point.

Kael clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin like a storm waiting to break. Strength. Power. Those words meant everything in this place. They determined who survived and who didn't. But was that really all there was? Was it enough to simply wield power without questioning it?

His golden eyes flickered toward the training dummies lined up near the edge of the grounds. A familiar tension coiled in his muscles, his body aching to move—to do something, anything, to shake off the weight pressing against his chest.

Without another thought, he grabbed a nearby wooden sword and took his stance.

The wind whispered against his skin as he moved.

A step forward. A quick slash. A pivot, then another strike.

Each motion was precise, honed through endless drills and battles that blurred together. But tonight, his strikes carried something else—something raw.

Frustration. Doubt.

And beneath it all, a question he couldn't shake.

What am I fighting for?

________________________________________

Zirath found Kael easily enough.

The silver-haired idiot wasn't exactly subtle when he was upset. He had a habit of storming off like a brewing thundercloud, shoulders tense, fists clenched, like he was daring the world to challenge him.

And sure enough, there he was, swinging a wooden sword at an unfortunate training dummy as if it had personally insulted him.

Zirath sighed, rolling his shoulders before making his way over.

"You do know that dummy isn't going to fight back, right?"

Kael didn't stop. His next strike was sharper, the wood whistling through the air. "What do you want, Zirath?"

Zirath raised an eyebrow. "Seraphina told me to come talk to you."

That finally made Kael pause. He turned slightly, golden eyes narrowing. "And you actually listened?"

Zirath smirked. "Believe it or not, I don't enjoy dealing with your brooding for a week straight." He crossed his arms. "Besides, you walked out first. I figured I'd give you a chance to explain why you're sulking before you start swinging at me instead."

Kael exhaled, resting the wooden sword against his shoulder. "I'm not sulking."

Zirath let out a low chuckle. "Sure. And I'm not standing here wasting my time."

Kael scowled but didn't argue. Instead, he turned back to the dummy, gripping the sword tighter. "You really believe that power is the only thing that matters?"

Zirath tilted his head slightly. "I believe that power determines everything."

Kael shook his head. "That's not an answer."

Zirath studied him for a moment, then stepped closer. "Fine," he said. "Tell me, Kael. What do you think matters more than power?"

Kael's grip tightened. "People. Choices. What you fight for."

Zirath's crimson eyes held his. "And what do you fight for?"

The question struck deeper than it should have.

Kael's breath hitched, his mind racing back—flashes of the past, of fallen comrades, of memories that still ached like old wounds. The answer should have been simple. It should have been something he could say without hesitation.

But the silence that stretched between them said otherwise.

Zirath exhaled, shaking his head. "That's the problem," he muttered.

Kael frowned. "What?"

Zirath took a slow step forward, his voice quieter now. "You hesitate, Kael. You always hesitate. You second-guess, you overthink, and in a real fight, that's the difference between life and death."

Kael's jaw clenched. "You think acting without thinking makes you stronger?"

Zirath's lips twitched, a humorless smile. "No. I think knowing what you want makes you stronger. And right now? You don't know what you want."

Kael took a sharp breath, but the words wouldn't come. Because, deep down, Zirath wasn't wrong.

He didn't know.

And that terrified him.

________________________________________

The night stretched on, the silence between them filled only by the faint rustle of the wind.

Zirath finally sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look. I'm not saying you're weak, Kael. You're stronger than most. But if you keep fighting with doubt in your heart, you're going to break. And when that happens, no amount of skill will save you."

Kael scoffed, glancing away. "So what? You want me to be like you?"

Zirath smirked. "I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be better than me."

Kael blinked. That… wasn't what he expected.

Zirath stretched his arms, exhaling. "We're rivals, Kael. That means I expect you to push yourself just as hard as I do. But if you keep questioning your own strength, then what's the point?"

Kael swallowed, his emotions warring inside him.

He wasn't sure what answer he was looking for. He wasn't even sure if there was an answer.

But for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel like he had to carry that weight alone.

Zirath smirked at his silence. "Figure it out, Kael. Before someone else figures it out for you."

With that, he turned, stepping back toward the fortress.

Kael stood there, gripping the wooden sword, his thoughts still a storm.

And somewhere, deep in his chest, a fire burned.

Not of anger.

But of something else entirely.

Kael remained standing in the open night air, his grip tightening around the wooden sword. Zirath's words lingered in his mind, echoing with a weight he hadn't expected.

"I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be better than me."

There was something infuriating about it—Zirath's blunt honesty, his complete lack of hesitation. He spoke with such conviction, as if everything had already been decided. As if the world was simple, and power was the only path forward.

Kael exhaled slowly, lowering the wooden sword.

Was Zirath right? Was hesitation truly his weakness?

He had always thought that being cautious, thinking things through, was what set him apart. But if that caution became hesitation—if it made him falter when it mattered most—then was he really strong?

The thought unsettled him.

His gaze flickered toward the fortress entrance where Zirath had disappeared. He knew that if he walked away now, this feeling would fester, gnawing at him in the coming days.

Kael wasn't the type to let things go easily.

And so, with a final glance at the darkened training grounds, he turned and made his way back inside.

________________________________________

The halls were quiet, save for the distant sound of the torches crackling along the stone walls. Kael knew exactly where Zirath would be—his rival was nothing if not predictable.

Sure enough, he found him near the fortress's inner courtyard, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms crossed. His crimson eyes flickered toward Kael as he approached, a knowing smirk forming on his lips.

"I was wondering when you'd come storming back," Zirath mused.

Kael rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. "You think you're so damn clever, don't you?"

Zirath shrugged. "Not my fault you always prove me right."

Kael exhaled, stepping closer. His expression shifted, the frustration from before replaced by something heavier. "Back there… you said I hesitate."

Zirath tilted his head slightly. "Because you do."

Kael's fingers twitched at his side. "And you think that makes me weak?"

There was a pause before Zirath answered.

"No," he said, his tone quieter this time. "I think it makes you dangerous."

Kael frowned. "Dangerous?"

Zirath pushed off the pillar, his expression turning unreadable. "You hold back, Kael. You think too much, you care too much, and you second-guess yourself at the worst possible moments. That kind of restraint? It's like a dam waiting to break."

Kael stiffened.

"You're not weak," Zirath continued. "But when you finally snap? When you stop holding back?" He shook his head. "That's when you'll be at your strongest. And that's what scares me."

Kael swallowed, something tightening in his chest.

He wasn't sure what unsettled him more—the fact that Zirath was right, or the fact that, deep down, he already knew it.

________________________________________

Kael leaned against the opposite pillar, crossing his arms. "You always make things sound so simple," he muttered.

Zirath chuckled. "That's because it is simple. Power decides everything."

Kael frowned. "And if it doesn't?"

Zirath's smirk faltered slightly.

For a moment, the air between them was heavy—filled with something neither of them wanted to name.

Then, Zirath sighed, shaking his head. "If power doesn't decide everything, then what does?"

Kael hesitated.

He thought about the past. About the people they had lost. About the promises they had made.

And then he spoke.

"Choice," he said finally. "Strength isn't just about power. It's about what you choose to do with it."

Zirath's expression flickered—just for a second.

Then he laughed, though there was something almost tired in the sound. "You really are something else, Kael."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "That a compliment?"

Zirath smirked. "More like an observation."

They stood there for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling between them.

Then Zirath turned, stretching his arms lazily. "Well, this has been fun, but I need sleep. Unlike you, I don't thrive on unnecessary brooding."

Kael rolled his eyes. "Right. Because you're the picture of emotional stability."

Zirath grinned. "Glad you noticed."

As he walked off, Kael found himself staring after him, his mind still spinning with everything that had been said.

For the first time in a long while, he felt… lighter.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as alone in this struggle as he thought.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to be.