The Next Morning,
The wooden door creaked softly as Ronan pushed it open, a thin ribbon of cool air slipping inside and brushing against his face. Outside, the morning still clung to the world in pale mist, the ground damp beneath faint sunlight that had yet to fully warm the earth. He stepped out—and caught sight of a familiar figure already moving away.
Kairos.
His brother's stride was quick, shoulders squared, breath puffing faintly in the chill as if he had somewhere important to be. The sight tugged an easy smile from Ronan before he even realized it.
"Good morning!" Ronan called, voice cutting cleanly through the quiet.
Kairos stopped mid-step. Not slowed—stopped. His head turned sharply, eyes widening as they landed on Ronan, as if he had just seen something that shouldn't be there.
"Ronan?" he said, the name slipping out half in disbelief. "When did you get back?"
"Late last night." Ronan fell into step beside him, matching his pace without thinking, boots crunching lightly over gravel. He tucked his hands behind his head for a moment, stretching out the lingering stiffness from travel. "You were already asleep."
The air between them settled into something familiar, unforced. Their breath rose together in pale wisps as they walked toward the training grounds, the faint metallic scent of morning dew mixing with the distant clang of someone already practising.
Kairos tilted his head slightly, gaze sliding over Ronan—not casually, but carefully. Measuring.
"You advanced to Adept, didn't you?"
Ronan's lips curled, slow and inevitable. "You noticed."
There was no point denying it. The change sat beneath his skin, quiet but solid, like a blade newly tempered.
"Yeah," he added, a trace of pride threading through his tone.
Kairos didn't smile back. His brows knit faintly. "What happened yesterday?"
The question landed heavier than expected.
Ronan's hand drifted to the back of his neck, fingers pressing into the skin as his earlier confidence loosened at the edges. "I…" He exhaled through his nose. "I absorbed a beast flame."
Kairos' steps slowed just a fraction. "Then why—" His eyes narrowed, focusing more intently now. "Why doesn't it feel different?"
Ronan didn't answer immediately.
Kairos continued, voice thoughtful, almost puzzled. "It's stronger, sure. But it's still… your flame. It hasn't changed its nature."
Ronan let out a short, awkward chuckle, gaze sliding away toward the training field ahead. The ground there was scarred with old burns and blade marks, a familiar sight that suddenly felt much easier to focus on than his brother's eyes.
"That's because…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, "…it was a low-class flame."
The explanation hung there—thin, incomplete.
Kairos didn't look convinced.
He opened his mouth—
—and a sudden weight dropped onto both their shoulders.
Firm. Unyielding.
"Ah," a voice drawled, smooth but edged with something far sharper, "so that's why Kairos lied for you yesterday, isn't it, Ronan?"
Ronan's spine locked.
Cold shot straight down his back as if someone had poured ice through his veins. His breath caught, chest tightening before he could even turn.
That voice—
He turned his head slowly. Too slow.
"S-Samantha?!" The name cracked out of him, betraying everything he would have preferred to hide. His face drained as his eyes met hers. "When—when did you get back?"
Samantha stood behind them, one hand gripping each of their shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to remind them she could apply more pressure if she wanted. Her expression wasn't angry.
That would have been easier.
Instead, her lips curved faintly, eyes sharp and glinting with something dangerously amused.
"Yesterday," she said, her tone light in a way that wasn't light at all. "At noon."
No escape.
Ronan swallowed. His gaze flickered—briefly, desperately—to Kairos.
Kairos, traitor that he was, took one smooth step backwards, out from under Samantha's hand, and folded his arms like a spectator settling in for entertainment.
Ronan was alone.
"H-how did your mission go?" he tried, words tumbling out too quickly, too forced.
Samantha didn't even blink.
"Oh, don't try that." Her hand slid from his shoulder—
—and latched onto his ear.
"Look at me when you're talking."
"Ow—ow, ow!" Ronan's body jerked with the sudden sting, hands flying up as he tried to pry her fingers loose. The sharp pinch sent a hot pulse of pain through the side of his head. "I am looking! I am!"
"Are you?" she murmured, leaning in slightly.
Her grip tightened.
Ronan winced, bending instinctively toward her to relieve the pressure, his dignity dissolving somewhere between the first yank and the second.
"You lied to me," she said, her voice dropping lower—not louder, not harsher, but heavier. Each word pressed down with quiet force. "Your sister."
Ronan stilled.
"And then," she continued, eyes flicking briefly toward Kairos before returning to him, "you dragged your brother into it."
Kairos coughed into his fist, suddenly very interested in the sky.
Ronan's throat felt dry. "I—"
"If you ever lie to me again," Samantha whispered, her voice close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his ear, "I won't let it go this easily."
The image that flickered through his mind—unbidden, vivid—was not pleasant.
He nodded quickly. Too quickly. "I won't! I won't lie again—I promise!"
She held him there for a heartbeat longer.
Then she released him.
Ronan staggered half a step back, rubbing his ear, which throbbed stubbornly beneath his fingers. The sting lingered, but it was nothing compared to the tight knot of guilt settling in his chest.
Samantha exhaled softly, the tension bleeding out of her posture as her shoulders relaxed.
"At least you apologise quickly," she said.
When Ronan looked up, the sharp edge in her expression had softened. Not completely—but enough.
Her gaze lingered on him now, different. Assessing, yes—but warmer.
"Congratulations," she added, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Adept suits you."
Something loosened in Ronan's chest at that.
The praise settled deeper than he expected, chasing away the last of the cold tension that had crept in earlier. His shoulders straightened slightly without him realizing it.
"Thanks," he said, quieter this time.
Samantha tilted her head, then sighed—long and exaggerated.
"Well," she went on, placing a hand on her hip, "I suppose you won't need this anymore."
Ronan blinked. "Need wha—"
She produced it from her storage ring in a flicker of light.
A small orb hovered in her palm, its surface swirling with vivid, dancing flames—foxfire, shifting and alive, faintly illuminating her fingers with a warm, golden-red glow. Heat radiated from it in gentle waves, carrying with it a subtle, wild scent—like scorched leaves and something faintly sweet beneath.
Ronan's eyes locked onto it.
His breath hitched.
"Three-Tailed Fox Flame," Samantha said casually. "Brought it back for you. But I guess—"
"What? No—no, no, no, I need it!" Ronan stepped forward immediately, hands half-raised as if afraid she might pull it away. "I definitely need it!"
Kairos snorted behind him.
Samantha's lips curled, satisfaction flickering across her face as she let him squirm for a moment longer before placing the orb into his hands.
The warmth sank into his palms instantly—not burning, but alive. It pulsed faintly, as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
"Wait a few days," she said, her tone shifting again—firm, grounded. "Let your body settle. Don't rush into absorbing it."
Ronan nodded, fingers tightening slightly around the orb as if afraid it might vanish. "I understand."
"Growth isn't just about grabbing everything at once," she added, tapping his shoulder lightly. "Pace matters."
"I know." He swallowed, then added more quietly, "Thank you… Samantha."
For a moment, she just looked at him.
Then her hand rose, resting gently on his shoulder—no force this time, no threat behind it. Just warmth.
"You're my little brother," she said softly. "Of course I'll take care of you."
Ronan's grip on the orb faltered slightly.
"But don't lie to me again."
The words weren't sharp.
That made them worse.
"It… breaks my trust."
Something in his chest tightened again—different this time. He lowered his gaze briefly, jaw setting as he nodded.
"I won't," he said. "I promise."
Samantha studied him for another heartbeat, then smiled—bright, easy, as if the moment before had never existed.
"Good."
Her hand ruffled his hair, quick and familiar, before she turned away.
"I'll see you both later. And don't slack off during training."
She waved lazily over her shoulder as she walked off, her figure gradually dissolving into the thinning morning mist.
"Bye, Samantha!" Ronan called after her, watching until she was nearly out of sight.
Only then did he exhale.
Kairos stepped up beside him again, the grin already spreading across his face.
"You really are scared of her."
Ronan didn't even hesitate. "Terrified."
He adjusted his grip on the flame orb, still warm in his hands, grounding himself in its steady heat.
"But you would be too."
Kairos' grin widened.
"'Little brother,'" he mimicked, clasping his hands together with exaggerated drama, his voice pitching into a near-perfect imitation. "'I'm sorry, Samantha! I won't lie again, I promise!'"
He doubled over laughing, shoulders shaking.
Ronan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Heat crept up his neck, settling stubbornly in his ears. "Shut up, Kairos."
"You should've seen your face," Kairos managed between laughs. "I thought you were about to cry."
"I was not."
"You absolutely were."
Ronan shot him a glare—but it didn't hold. The corner of his mouth twitched, betraying him.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."
Kairos wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. "She had you shaking like a scared kitten."
Ronan snorted despite himself, shaking his head. The embarrassment lingered, but it had dulled—smoothed out by familiarity, by the ease between them.
By the fact that this… this was normal.
As they resumed walking, Ronan shifted the flame orb into his storage ring, then reached for his sword.
The metal slid free with a soft rasp.
Morning light caught along its edge—but instead of gleaming cleanly, the blade reflected in uneven lines. Fine cracks spread like hairline fractures across the surface, subtle but undeniable. The edge, once sharp enough to whisper through the air, now looked slightly worn, dulled by use.
He ran his thumb carefully along the flat of the blade, feeling the faint irregularities beneath his skin.
A frown settled on his face.
"This won't last much longer," he said.
Kairos leaned closer, glancing over it. "Yeah… that's seen better days."
Ronan tilted it slightly, watching how the light broke across the fractures. Each mark told a story—fights pushed too far, strikes taken without retreat.
"I'll need a new one," he murmured. "Or get this repaired."
"New one," Kairos said immediately. "You just advanced. Might as well upgrade everything."
Ronan huffed softly. "Maybe."
He slid the blade back into its sheath, the familiar weight settling at his side.
"I'll ask the smith later," he added. "Come with me?"
Kairos shrugged. "Why not? Been a while since I went there."
A grin spread across his face again. "Besides, I want front-row seats when you try to 'negotiate.'"
Ronan shot him a look. "I don't haggle."
"Of course you don't."
"I negotiate."
Kairos laughed.
Ronan shook his head, but his steps quickened slightly, energy building in his chest again—lighter now, sharper.
"Let's focus on training first," he said. "I want to see how much I've improved."
Kairos matched his pace instantly. "Just don't cry when I leave you in the dust."
Ronan's lips curved. "We'll see about that."
The training grounds came into full view ahead—scarred earth, scattered weapon racks, the distant clash of steel already echoing through the morning air.
The teasing faded, not completely—but enough.
Both of them felt it.
The shift.
The anticipation.
Because no matter how much they joked, how much they bickered—
This was where it mattered.
And neither of them intended to hold back.