Blades That Remember

The hallway was wrapped in silence when Yan closed the door to his room. The mansion was already asleep—or so he thought. His steps were light, rhythmic, almost ceremonial. They carried the anticipation of another training session with Lilia, but also something else: a subtle firmness, cultivated in quiet reflections and welcome pain.

The nearest magical lamp cast a faint shadow at his feet. And it was there, as he turned the last corner before the exit, that he saw her.

Aurora.

Standing by the front doorframe, arms crossed, watchful gaze. Her posture was casual, but the gleam in her eyes didn't lie.

"I thought you were asleep," Yan said, stopping in front of her.

Aurora raised an eyebrow.

"And miss the chance to see the great heir of House Ellory in action again? No way."

Yan tilted his head slightly, confused.

"You're coming with me… to train?"

She uncrossed her arms and took two steps forward. In her hands, she carried something wrapped in a dark cloth. As she approached, she handed it to him with a firm gesture.

"Your sword. It was lying next to your bed. If you're going to take this seriously, start treating your tools with the respect they deserve."

He unwrapped the blade carefully. It was the same as always, but the touch of steel stirred memories of the past—his first life-or-death fight against a dimensional beast.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm only here to make sure you don't die."

The attempt at indifference sounded too rehearsed. Yan didn't answer. He simply sheathed the sword at his side and headed out. Aurora followed without a word.

---

The path to the training field was silent, but not uncomfortable. Above them, the stars still shone, though it wouldn't be long until dawn. The cool air brushed against Yan's face like an invitation to combat. And there, in that almost ethereal setting, Lilia's silhouette was already waiting.

She stood tall, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Her golden eyes glinted briefly as they approached.

"You're late," she said, without breaking eye contact.

Yan opened his mouth to reply, but Aurora stepped forward first.

"My fault. I got held up finishing my hair."

The answer came laced with subtle sarcasm, and Yan glanced at his sister, surprised by her tone. Lilia, on the other hand, just smiled—and it was a dangerous smile.

"Oh… the older sister decided to tag along? What an honor."

"Don't be mistaken, Lilia. I'm not here as a spectator."

Before any response could be given, Aurora lunged.

It was a clean, direct movement—Aurora's sword cutting through the air like an extension of her own intent. Yan's eyes widened. He hadn't expected it. Lilia didn't move at first. She simply raised her spear in a relaxed stance, twirling it with lethal grace before parrying the strike at the last second.

The metallic clang echoed across the field.

The clash had begun.

---

The dance between Aurora and Lilia was unlike any training session Yan had ever seen. There was no instruction, no restraint. It was real combat—tempered, yes, but still far beyond what he imagined witnessing that night.

Aurora attacked with dizzying speed. Her feet barely touched the ground between strikes, and her sword traced unpredictable paths. Yan tried to keep up, but in several moments, the movements simply vanished—as if time fractured between each blow.

Lilia, in contrast, smiled.

It wasn't sarcasm, nor disdain. It was pleasure.

She responded with surgical precision. Her spear spun with lethal fluidity, as if it anticipated every attack before it came, deflecting and parrying Aurora's strikes with elegance bordering on arrogance.

Yan watched in total silence, his heart racing.

He had never seen his sister fight like that. Not with that intensity. Not with that... hunger. She had always been composed, methodical, proud of her poise. But now, she seemed like someone who needed to prove something—not to Lilia, but perhaps to herself.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

Aurora halted. So did Lilia. Both breathed heavily, not smiling, but with eyes glowing equally. The tension between them was thick, charged with something Yan didn't understand—but felt.

"You're getting slow," Lilia said, half-smiling.

"Or maybe you've just gotten predictable," Aurora replied, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

A moment of silence followed.

Yan stepped closer, still trying to understand what he had witnessed.

"You've met before?"

Lilia looked at him as if the question was obvious.

"Of course. We trained together years ago. Your sister has an annoying talent for hiding her strength."

Aurora turned her face away but didn't deny it.

"And you have an annoying talent for provoking."

The tense air eased for a brief moment. There was respect there—veiled, masked under teasing—but respect, nonetheless.

Yan crossed his arms, more curious than ever.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Aurora raised an eyebrow.

"Because you never asked."

Lilia laughed.

"And because she loves keeping that distant, austere big sister act. But clearly, she cares. Or she wouldn't be here."

Yan looked at Aurora, who turned her gaze aside.

"I just came to make sure the idiot training you doesn't overdo it," she said, arms crossed.

Lilia raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"Oh, I see… Came to protect your little brother. Or maybe make sure I don't steal him from you?"

Aurora shot her a sharp look, but Lilia only feigned innocence with a theatrical sigh.

"Well… if you want, I can leave and let you two sort it out alone," Lilia added with a wink.

"Shut up, Lilia," said Aurora and Yan in unison.

The silence that followed was broken by laughter.

---

Lilia glanced at the sword in Yan's hands—the purple blade with a crystal in the hilt glimmering softly in the night's dim light.

"So… you brought your real sword today?" she remarked, holding her spear with the ease of a warrior long familiar with it.

Yan nodded, adjusting his stance, body slightly tilted forward, already focused.

"Thought it was time to switch it up. I've been training with mana weapons to improve my control… but now I want to get used to the real weight again."

Lilia narrowed her eyes, assessing him with a discreet nod of approval.

"Makes sense. There's no point in shaping your body if you're not in tune with the weapon you carry."

Yan gave a small smile.

"Yeah. And this one deserves better than staying stored away."

Lilia smirked as she stepped into position on the field.

"Let's see if you're worthy of it today."

---

The training lasted for hours. Repeated movements, demanding corrections, falls and restarts. Aurora remained silent, but her eyes missed no detail.

Yan was breathless. Sweat streamed down his face, his clothes clung to his body. Every muscle screamed, but he pressed on, relentless.

Lilia, on the other hand, remained flawless. Not a drop of sweat on her face. Her movements were as natural as breathing—calculated, fluid, lethal.

When they finally stopped, Yan leaned on his knees, catching his breath. Lilia threw a towel over her shoulders with the same ease of someone who had merely stretched.

Aurora said nothing. Her gaze was stern, but there was something else there—a silent recognition.

Lilia turned to her with a subtle smile.

"It was nice seeing you in action earlier."

Aurora adjusted the sword on her shoulders, casting a sideways glance.

"Enjoy it while it lasts."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, leaving only the firm sound of her footsteps in the air.

Lilia watched her for a moment, then turned back to Yan.

"She's restless."

"Why?"

"Because she's starting to realize you're not the same anymore."

Yan said nothing, watching his sister's silhouette fade, outlined against the sky that slowly brightened.

---

The cold morning breeze began to blow as Lilia was about to say goodbye to Yan.

"Train what you learned today," she said, spear resting on her shoulder. "You'll need it."

He nodded, still catching his breath.

Lilia cast one last glance at the empty field, then turned and vanished into the trees, her steps so light they barely touched the ground.

Yan watched the space for a few more seconds before heading home. Aurora was already several meters ahead, as if she'd left behind not only the field… but something more.

They walked in silence through the still-drowsy streets of the city. The weight of the night wasn't a burden, but a reminder. A marker.

When they reached the mansion, the gate creaked softly. The house lights were still on, and the familiar scent of bitter tea and toasted bread drifted from the kitchen. Helena stood by the dining table, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

She watched them in silence for a few seconds before speaking with calm firmness:

"If you think you can sneak out in the middle of the night and return at dawn without notice… you're right." She sighed lightly. "But leave a note next time."

Yan opened his mouth, but Aurora was quicker:

"It was his fault."

"Great. Go wash your face, guilty one," Helena said, pointing down the hall. "Then sit down and eat."

Yan nodded with a guilty smile and headed to the bathroom. After returning and finishing his meal, he passed by the study before heading upstairs.

He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the old, worn journal. He stared at it for a moment, as if still processing the weight of that morning. Then, with the journal in hand, he went up to his room.

There, he sat by the window. The sky was clear, but faint orange streaks still lingered on the horizon. The house was quiet, and the city slowly waking.

He opened the journal and wrote slowly, as if etching something too important to forget:

"Aurora and Lilia faced each other. Neither came out victorious. But I learned more than I would have by fighting both. The world around me is changing. And so am I."

He closed the journal calmly.

And alone in his room, bathed in morning light, he smiled with a new kind of understanding in his eyes.