Chapter 352: Steel, Instinct, and the Space Between

Morning settled over the training grounds like a held breath.

Frost clung to the packed earth, crunching softly beneath boots as trainees gathered in loose clusters, steam rising from their mouths as they stretched, adjusted armor, and checked weapons. The air smelled of iron, pine, and old sweat—the familiar scent of discipline and expectation.

Sophia stood beside Orion near the edge of the grounds, her cloak already shed, her sleeves rolled back. Twin short swords rested crossed at her hips, their familiar weight grounding her. Daggers sat snug at her thighs, hidden but ready—gifts from Orion. She flexed her fingers once, feeling the quiet hum of her own awareness settle into place.

Orion turned to Sophia. They should be getting started with training, but she didn’t even look remotely ready—well, except for the fact that she had removed her cloak.

But Orion would soon come to understand why.

Sophia’s head snapped up as a ripple of excitement swept through the trainees. Voices lifted. Boots shifted as a small crowd formed near the entrance.

Orion already knew who it was, while Sophia just watched what was happening with wide eyes and a smile. Brynhild had arrived.

She walked in with steady confidence, her steps measured, her posture upright despite the faint stiffness she hadn’t entirely shed. Her blindness didn’t slow her—not when the ground was familiar, not when the air itself spoke to her. The trainees clustered around her instinctively, voices overlapping in greeting, respect thick in every word.

Sophia stared, wide-eyed.

"It’s like she’s been gone for years," she murmured.

Orion chuckled beside her, arms folding across his chest. "She usually runs half these sessions. She’s captain of the guard, remember?" He nodded toward the crowd. "Bed rest kept her away. To them, it probably feels like she has been gone for years."

"That makes sense," Sophia said softly, watching as Brynhild listened, smiled, and redirected people with a word or a touch to an arm.

After a moment, Brynhild disengaged from the circle and angled unerringly toward Sophia.

Orion arched a brow. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, half-amused, half-suspicious.

Brynhild smiled. "I’m here for Sophia."

Orion turned slowly to Sophia. "Why is she here for you?"

Sophia met his gaze, lips curving. "She’s going to train me."

Orion blinked. "I’m already training you."

She nodded. "You are. And you’re great at it too."

His eyes narrowed. "That sounded like a prelude to a complaint."

"It’s not," Sophia said quickly. "But you are busy with work, especially since the test is coming up. And... I asked Brynhild to help me with pointers."

"Shorty," Orion told her, "you’re making it sound like I’m incapable of doing everything."

"You skip work," she told him. "And you can’t do that now because of the test."

Orion paused, taking in her words. "Fair point."

He sighed dramatically. "As much as it pains me to see you bringing someone else into our relationship—"

Sophia snorted. "I am absolutely not."

"You brought Brynhild here."

"That doesn’t mean I’m bringing someone into our relationship, you oaf."

Orion shrugged. "Potato, potato."

Brynhild chuckled at that.

Brynhild turned her head slightly, listening to the rhythm of the grounds—the scrape of boots, the steady breathing, the subtle tells most never noticed. "Sophia," she said, "you’ll spar with someone else today."

Orion frowned. "Why? She normally spars with me."

"Because she’s used to you," Brynhild replied calmly. "Your timing. Your reach. Your habits. Familiarity breeds comfort—and comfort dulls instinct."

Sophia felt that land somewhere deep.

"She’ll spar with multiple people," Brynhild continued, "across the ground."

Orion considered, then nodded. "That makes sense. It’ll show whether she’s improving or just circling the same ground."

Brynhild nodded. She turned around, then pointed at someone.

"You."

Dren turned to her in shock. "Me?" he asked.

"Yes," Brynhild said. "You’ll spar with Sophia. And you will not hold back."

Dren swallowed. "Captain, I—"

"The test will be brutal," Brynhild cut in. "The forest won’t be gentle. Neither will what lives in it. I’ll guide you both."

He nodded stiffly and took position opposite Sophia.

Orion leaned close, voice low. "Do not even think about injuring her."

Sophia shot him a look. "Don’t coddle me."

"You just recovered," he shot back. "I don’t want you sick again."

She rolled her eyes, though her mouth twitched.

Brynhild chuckled. "Begin."

Sophia moved first.

Weapons whispered free as she drew both short swords, stance low, weight balanced. Dren advanced with his spear, cautious, circling. He tested distance, jabbed once—then pulled the strike short.

Sophia noticed immediately.

So did Brynhild.

"Stop," Brynhild said sharply.

They froze.

"You’re holding back," Brynhild said to Dren. "Exactly what I told you not to do."

"I don’t want to hurt her," he said quietly.

"You’re not letting her fight," Brynhild replied. "And if this were the test, the beasts wouldn’t care."

Orion added coolly, "Not hurting her doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do your best. I know you guys are friends, but don’t use that as an excuse not to put in your best."

Sophia nodded. "It’s not the first time we’ve sparred, Dren. Don’t half-ass this."

Dren exhaled, shoulders squaring. "Don’t cry when I beat you," he told her.

Sophia’s lips twitched. "One more round?"

Dren dipped his head. "One more."

They didn’t wait for the signal this time.

Dren surged forward, spear a blur. Sophia pivoted, blades flashing as she deflected, the shock traveling up her arms. He pressed harder this time—thrust, sweep, feint.

She ducked under the spear’s arc, rolled, and came up inside his reach. A dagger flashed toward his ribs; he twisted just in time, the edge grazing leather instead of flesh.

She backed off, breathing steady, then charged again—short swords crossing, one high, one low. Dren adapted, shifting his grip, using the butt of the spear to block, the shaft to keep distance.

Sophia reacted without thinking, twisting as the spear sliced through where she’d been a heartbeat earlier. She slid low, blades scoring dirt, then kicked up, forcing Dren back.

He grinned despite himself. "You’re faster than before."

She didn’t answer.

Orion watched as Sophia fought, but there was one thing troubling him—and it seemed the same thing was troubling Brynhild too, because she turned to Orion.

"Why isn’t he shifting?" she asked.