Blades, Breath, and Banter

Blades, Breath, and Banter

The sun rose lazily above Skyreach, golden light streaming into the polished stone halls and glass-paneled corridors. The clouds below shimmered in soft pastels, and the crisp morning air buzzed faintly with spiritual energy.

Solene, Nerys, and Seraphyne emerged into the training arena, their bodies still humming from the night before. Their steps were lighter, more confident, eyes brighter with the glow of shared affection and release.

Nyxara was already there, floating a few inches off the ground in her effortless way, her staff levitating nearby like an obedient pet. She turned toward them slowly, eyes scanning them with lazy amusement.

Her lips curled into a smirk.

"Mmm... I was wondering how long you'd sleep in. Guess all that... bonding left you sore."

Seraphyne blushed instantly, looking away.

Solene raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly subtle."

Nyxara stepped forward, sniffing the air with exaggerated flair. "Oh, I don't need to be. I can smell you two on each other. Gods, the scent of climax is practically hanging off your thighs."

Seraphyne made a high-pitched sound of embarrassment and hid her face in Solene's shoulder. Nerys only chuckled.

"Focus," Solene said with a faint smile, sliding her arm protectively around Seraphyne's waist. "We came to train."

"Mmmhmm," Nyxara said, twirling her staff. "Then let's begin."

---

The sparring session was brutal.

Nyxara didn't hold back. She moved like wind and fire, dodging, redirecting, and striking with deceptive grace.

Solene and Seraphyne worked in tandem—Solene's ice shaping the field with spikes and terrain, Seraphyne cloaking them both in shadow and illusion. Nerys swept in with her blade, directing the pace like a conductor commanding music.

It worked.

Sometimes.

But not always.

"Better," Nyxara said, sidestepping a blast of ice and catching Nerys's blade mid-air. She twisted it from her grip and flicked her wrist, sending the three crashing into each other in a heap.

They groaned on the ground.

Nyxara floated above them, upside-down now, smirking. "Still sloppy. Too much fire, not enough balance. Your love triangle doesn't automatically make you coordinated killers."

Solene rolled to her knees. "Then we keep trying."

"Oh, you will," Nyxara said, her tone softening a fraction. "You can attempt the arena trial again whenever you feel brave... but remember: whether you like it or not, you'll fight her—my younger self—again at the end of each week. To the death."

She landed softly, eyes serious now. "And if you want to win next time, you'll have to bleed for it first."

Nerys wiped sweat from her brow, breathing hard. She glanced around the arena.

"Where's Lira?"

Nyxara paused.

"Training separately. She's on a different path. But don't worry, little swordmaiden. She's safe."

Nerys didn't respond immediately.

But her eyes lingered in the direction of the eastern halls.

The group picked themselves up.

And the real training began.

Part II:

After Nyxara had beaten them black and blue, leaving bruises blooming across shoulders and ribs, she clapped her hands once. Three perfect marbles, glowing faintly in pale blue, appeared in her palm.

She tossed one to each of them.

"Eat it. Healing pills. They'll fix the bruises and replenish your core energy."

The women downed them without question, a cool, sweet sensation trickling down their throats before warmth spread outward, mending muscle and skin.

Nyxara smiled, almost too pleasantly.

"Now. I've decided to try something... different."

She leaned on her staff.

"I want one of you to spar with Lira in the arena. If you win, I'll reward you. But if you lose... you owe me a favor. A personal one."

They exchanged glances.

Seraphyne raised a brow. "You're not going to pick?"

"Of course not. That would be boring."

Her smile turned sharp.

"I want you to fight each other for the right. Winner gets to test Lira. Loser... well, we'll see."

Solene stood slowly, already feeling her blood stir.

Nerys cracked her knuckles.

Seraphyne exhaled and summoned her shadowfire.

Nyxara took a step back, her eyes glittering.

Nyxara led the trio to a new location—a floating platform suspended high above the clouds, its edges lined with faintly glowing runes. The wind swept across its open surface, cool and sharp.

Hovering above them on her staff like it was a surfboard, Nyxara spun lazily in the air, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Okay, ladies, let's talk rules," she called. "This platform functions like the arena. If you take lethal damage, you'll disappear and reappear just outside the boundary, fully intact. It might sting like hell, but you won't die."

She twirled a finger in the air. "So, for your growth, I prefer if you go all out. Push yourselves. But it's not required. You can hold back. I won't judge. Much."

She grinned.

"Another way to win is to knock your opponent off the platform. So keep your footing. Or don't. Up to you."

She raised her staff above her head and spun it.

"Other than that... have fun~"

Solene cracked her knuckles. "Ready to get thrown, Sera?"

Seraphyne stuck out her tongue. "Only if you plan to catch me after."

Nerys smirked and drew her blade. "Let's find out who gets to play with Lira."

Nyxara dropped her hand.

The air pulsed.

And the fight began.

As Nyxara's hand dropped, a crackle of pressure pulsed through the platform. The trio reacted instantly, instincts overriding hesitation.

Nerys surged forward first, sword in hand, her eyes locked on Seraphyne, the tactically weaker of the three. Her blade was a blur, sharp arcs slicing the air with lethal grace. But Solene anticipated it.

With a wave of her hand, she summoned a thick wall of ice between Nerys and Seraphyne. The blade struck hard, slicing through a portion—but it bought Seraphyne a breath.

"I owe you," Seraphyne muttered, vanishing into a swirl of shadow.

Solene turned. She didn't wait for the others to settle. Her ice danced at her fingertips, forming jagged knives that hovered in the air around her.

Nerys grinned. "Coming for me already, snowflake?"

"I want that reward," Solene shot back. "And you both know I'm not holding back."

Solene launched two ice daggers at Nerys, forcing her to pivot. The first dagger she sliced in midair, but the second she dodged only by a breath. In that same moment, Seraphyne reappeared from the side, shadow-wreathed claws slashing toward Solene's flank.

Solene spun and raised an arm. A thin ice shield bloomed just in time—the claws scraped, cracked the surface—but didn't break through.

Nerys joined the fray. She leapt high, flipping midair, and brought her blade down toward Solene with ferocious speed.

Solene reacted instinctively, letting the blade scrape her shoulder as she ducked low and drove her palm into Nerys's gut, sending a jagged burst of cold through her armor.

Nerys gasped, wind knocked from her lungs, and stumbled back. Solene didn't pursue. Instead, she shifted toward Seraphyne, her voice soft.

"I love you, Sera. But I won't lose."

Seraphyne narrowed her eyes. Her body became smoke, slipping beneath the platform before reappearing behind Solene. Her hands ignited with violet flame as she thrust toward Solene's back.

But Solene didn't move.

A trap.

Seraphyne's attack passed through an ice mirror—an illusion. The real Solene had already moved, rising behind her and placing her palm to Seraphyne's lower back.

"Sorry, love."

A pulse of cold surged forward, freezing the air. Seraphyne vanished in a flash of light, eliminated.

Nyxara's voice echoed, amused. "One down."

Nerys recovered. She charged again, furious now, her blade spinning with intent.

Solene welcomed her.

They clashed hard.

Steel struck frozen air. Sparks flew from blade edges. Nerys pressed hard, faster than Solene, more aggressive. But Solene kept her calm, timing her movements with the rhythm of the platform's energy.

She baited Nerys forward—a feint to the right, then a slide of ice beneath her boots.

Nerys slipped.

And Solene struck.

A rising column of jagged frost shot upward from the ground beneath Nerys, launching her skyward. Solene sprinted after and with one precise motion, hit her with an arcing blade of ice across the chest.

Nerys exploded in a shimmer of light.

Eliminated.

Nyxara clapped, still hovering on her staff.

"Winner: Solene Cael."

Solene stood on the platform, chest rising and falling, the cold aura around her body gently fading.

Her breath was steady.

Her hands firm.

She had won.

And it felt good.