The dust of the field was slowly settling back onto the cracked earth.
Yet the resonance of iron still lingered in the air.
The girl's footsteps were measured and cautious against the uneven ground.
She moved with bated breath, as if fearing that her very presence might shatter the violent rhythm of the training.
As she drew closer to the center of the clearing, Kelen's back came into view.
He stood as immovable as a stone monument.
The chain bolted to his wrist shimmering like a serpent's scales in the sun.
Amidst the searing heat and the absolute stillness, Kelen's presence felt like a smoldering coal—silent, yet burning.
The girl stopped just a few yards away.
Her throat was parched, but she gathered every ounce of resolve.
And pierced the heavy silence with her voice.
"Kelen!"
The name dropped into the air like a stone into a still pond.
In the next instant, there was a slight tension in the cords of Kelen's neck.
He didn't react immediately, but his fingers tightened further around the hilt of the Leopard's Claw.
Then, he pivoted slowly.
When his eyes met the girl's, they were as cold and piercing as a predator's.
Sweat lined his brow, and his face wore that same familiar, hardened mask.
Yet within the dark hollows of his gaze, a flicker of surprise momentarily surfaced.
He didn't loosen his grip on the sword; the chain remained taut.
As if he perceived any unknown voice as a potential threat.
The sunlight stood like a wall between them.
Kelen squinted slightly, as if trying to discern through the glare.
Who had possessed the audacity to disturb his 'silence.'
Kelen gave his wrist a subtle flick.
Causing the chain of the Leopard's Claw to settle with a faint, metallic clink—Chink.... *
He loosened his grip on the hilt, though he didn't release it entirely.
The hollows of his eyes now bore clear traces of bewilderment.
He took a step forward, the heavy thud of his boots resonating through the silent clearing.
"Zara..." his voice was raspy, thickened by the dryness of his throat.
"What are you doing here?"
His predatory gaze swept over Zara's dust-coated boots and the exhaustion etched onto her face.
The towering walls of Vespera stood behind them like silent witnesses.
The hardened mask of Kelen's features twitched slightly.
As if he were struggling to process the reality.
That the girl standing before him didn't even belong to this city.
"You don't even live in this city," Kelen said in a low tone.
His eyes narrowing into a sharp question.
"The road to this place is riddled with the shadows of death."
"How did you make it here?"
"Has something happened beyond the borders that Vespera remains blind to?"
Zara noticed that Kelen's hand remained hoveringly close to his weapon.
The warrior who, only yesterday, was lost in the echoes of his past.
Now stood armed with a new and lethal steel.
The wind of the field swirled between them like an unpoken threat.
Zara wiped the exhaustion from her face and looked into Kelen's eyes with a faint smile.
"I just came to see you... anyway, it's been years."
She scanned the desolation of the field, her voice turning solemn.
"I found out a while ago that the monster attacks on Vespera's walls have intensified over the last few years."
"Is it true?"
Kelen slid his blade back into its sheath, producing a cold, metallic click—Click. *
"Yes," he replied in a low, heavy tone.
"They come like shadows. The attacks don't stop..."
"This war has become a part of our daily lives."
Zara let out a breath of relief and stepped forward.
Almost reaching out to touch Kelen's shoulder before the coldness of his aura gave her pause.
"Come on, there's too much dust here. We'll talk about this at home."
She added with genuine excitement, "And I want to meet your younger sister, Miya."
"She must be quite grown up by now, right? Let's go home."
At the mention of 'Miya,' a shiver surged through Kelen's body.
His feet froze where they stood.
He clenched his fists so hard that the chain on his wrist began to bite into his flesh.
The sunlight, which had felt warm moments ago, suddenly turned icy.
He lowered his face so Zara couldn't see the storm brewing in his eyes.
The house, whose threshold once echoed with Miya's laughter.
Was now nothing but a hollow shell and a sanctuary of silence.
"Home..." Kelen muttered.
His voice sounding like it was emerging from the crack of an ancient tomb.
Zara didn't notice the sudden shift in his demeanor.
"Yes, what happened? Let's go, Miya must be waiting."
Kelen didn't turn to face Zara.
He simply fixed his gaze on the far edge of the field, where the silence of Miya's grave began.
He couldn't find the courage to speak the truth.
But he knew that in that 'home,' only the ashes of memories remained.
"Let's go..." The word barely escaped Kelen's lips.
Without a second thought, Zara grasped Kelen's hand.
The warmth of her palm pressed against his cold, chain-bound wrist.
For a fleeting second, Kelen's gaze remained fixed on the fingers intertwined with his own.
It had been years since someone had touched him with such ease.
As if he weren't a lethal sentinel but simply that same 'big brother' from the past.
Without a word, he followed her like a silent shadow.
They bypassed the market's roar and entered the narrow alleys.
Where small stone houses stood shoulder to shoulder.
The afternoon sun was beginning to wane, casting long, deep shadows across the cobblestones.
They stopped before a house that wasn't grand, yet possessed a simple beauty.
The dried vines clinging to the walls seemed to hold onto the memories buried within.
Zara opened the latch with a sense of familiarity, as if entering her own home.
The wooden door groaned—Creak...—a sound that felt like a scream in the quiet alley.
"Miya!" Zara's voice echoed through the empty rooms.
Kelen froze at the threshold.
His feet felt as though they were sinking into the floor.
The air inside was cold and heavy.
Carrying the scent of old wood and long-closed rooms.
Zara hurried further inside, her footsteps resonating between the kitchen and the courtyard.
"Miya, look who's here! Come out, stop playing hide-and-seek!"
Zara called again, her voice still brimming with oblivious excitement.
Kelen closed his eyes.
He remembered every corner where Miya used to play, the table where they once sat together.
But now, there was only a fine layer of dust and the silence of old portraits hanging on the walls.
Zara's enthusiasm was now piercing Kelen's chest like a blade.
He knew no answer would come.
Only the echo of Zara's own voice bouncing off the vacant walls.