Lessons in Silence

Episode---- 16

Rain threatened again by late afternoon, the sky a flat bruise over the villa's broken stone and creeping moss. Lina lingered at the window of her cramped room, restless energy thrumming under her skin.

Ayan's words echoed in her mind. "That's what scares me."

She didn't know which burned more: that he saw her strength… or that he feared what it might cost her.

The corridor outside lay in half-light, shadows pooling in corners where the plaster had crumbled. Lina stepped out, footsteps hushed on the cracked tiles. She had meant to head to the library — a refuge of old books and older secrets — but her feet betrayed her, carrying her down the east wing. Toward the training courtyard.

Maybe he'd be gone. Part of her hoped he was. Part of her — the stubborn part, the part still awake at night — hoped he wasn't.

She found him there. Again.

Sword in hand, black hair damp with sweat, breath steady but heavy. The blade moved through arcs that seemed to pull the air itself around him. Watching him fight felt almost indecent — like seeing something raw and unguarded, a language he spoke only when alone.

Lina didn't speak, afraid even a whisper might shatter the quiet.

Ayan stopped before she could turn away. His gaze locked on hers, unreadable as ever. "You're following me now?" he asked, voice low.

She hesitated, pulse racing. "I wanted to see," she admitted.

"To see what?"

"What makes you strong."

Something flickered behind his eyes. "Strength is the last thing you want," he said.

"I disagree," Lina shot back. The words tasted like iron on her tongue. "I'd rather have it than wait to be rescued."

Ayan looked away, jaw tight. The silence stretched, threaded through with the distant rumble of thunder.

"You're stubborn," he murmured.

"And you're afraid," she countered, surprising even herself.

He turned sharply at that, blade dropping a fraction. "Of what?"

"Of me becoming like you," she whispered.

The courtyard felt smaller suddenly, the air dense, thick with words unsaid.

Ayan let the silence hang, then did something unexpected. He lowered the sword entirely, stepping closer. Close enough for her to see the faint scars that crossed his knuckles, the tremor that lived in the spaces between each breath.

"Pick it up," he said, holding the sword out to her.

Lina froze. "What?"

"Pick. It. Up."

She stepped forward, fingers closing around the hilt. The steel felt cold, heavier than she imagined — heavier than any burden she'd known.

"Hold it tighter," he instructed, voice soft but edged with command. His hand brushed hers, guiding her grip. "Don't let it slip. A sword that slips becomes a mistake. And mistakes get you killed."

The contact made her chest tighten painfully. She swallowed, eyes fixed on the blade's dark reflection.

"Now lift it."

She tried. The weight pulled at her shoulder, her arm trembled. The balance felt wrong, alien.

"Again," he ordered, stepping behind her. His palm pressed lightly to her back. "Breathe. Center yourself."

She exhaled shakily, trying to calm the tremor in her muscles.

"It isn't about power," Ayan murmured near her ear, voice low as thunder. "It's about will. Steel answers only to what you believe you deserve to protect."

Lina's fingers tightened. The sword rose, imperfect, trembling, but higher this time.

"Good," he said. Warm breath brushed her cheek. "Again."

They moved like that: her struggling, him correcting, his voice cutting through doubt sharper than the blade itself. Time blurred, marked only by the scrape of steel on air and the drumming of her heart.

At some point, the fear shifted — from fear of failure to fear of stopping.

When she finally lowered the sword, her arms ached, breath ragged. But she stood taller, chest heaving with something like pride.

Ayan stepped back, gaze sweeping over her. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw something gentle in his eyes — almost soft.

"Enough for today," he said quietly.

"You still think it will break me?" she asked, voice hoarse.

His answer came slow, as if it cost him something. "No. I think it'll make you harder. And I don't know if that's a victory."

The words settled heavy between them.

Lina lowered her gaze, thumb brushing the hilt. "Then let me decide what I'm willing to lose."

A small breath escaped him — something between a laugh and a sigh. "Stubborn, still," he murmured.

"Always," she whispered back.

They stood facing each other, silence wrapping around them like mist. Beyond the courtyard walls, lightning danced, bright and dangerous.

Ayan turned, taking the sword from her hand, fingers brushing hers. "Tomorrow," he said. "If you still want it."

She met his eyes, heart beating fast. "I do."

For a fleeting moment, something like a promise sparked between them — fragile, terrifying, and impossibly alive.

And then the thunder spoke, rolling across the ruined stone, as if to say: Storms come for everyone.

------ see you in next episode....