Abell pushed his bowl away. His chair scraped loud enough to make Astrid and Misha flinch, but he didn't care.

  "Abell—" she started.

  "I need some air." He was already moving toward the door, not waiting for her response.

  “Will Abell be okay, Astrid?” Misha said, dejected.

  Astrid flashed him a weak smile. “Don’t worry about him, I know he’ll manage. He is strong after all.”

  Misha smiled satisfied with her response.

  The rain hit him the moment he stepped outside, cold and relentless, soaking through his shirt within seconds. The streets were empty, everyone smart enough to stay inside on a day like this. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, low and threatening.

  Big sis Genny didn't need people bailing her out.

  The words wouldn't stop echoing in his head. Torrin's smug face. That condescending tone.

  His hands clenched into fists as he walked with no real destination in mind, just needing to move, to do something other than sit there and take it.

  After an hour of aimlessly wondering something caught his attention.

  A metallic clanking cutting through the sound of rain and wind. The unmistakable sound of hammer meeting steel.

  The forge.

  He followed the sound almost without thinking, his feet carrying him toward the edge of town where smoke poured from the smithy's chimney even in the downpour. The heat hit him before he even stepped through the open door.

  Freed stood at his anvil, hammer raised high before bringing it down with practiced precision.. He was working on what looked like a blade, the metal glowing red-hot as he shaped it.

  “A customer on a day like this?” He muttered. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right there.

  Abell stepped inside, rainwater dripping onto the floor. He shivered involuntarily as Freed made his way to the front.

  "Huh? Keeko's brat." Freed set his hammer down with a heavy thunk, wiping soot from his thick black beard with one massive hand. "What brings you here?"

  "Just looking around, I guess." Abell muttered, shaking water from his sleeves and trying not to sound as agitated as he felt.

  Freed snorted, "Looking around? I heard you don’t like using real swords?"

  Abell rubbed the back of his head, “Uh yes, That’s true. I feel like i’m betraying my Lux when I hold another blade.”

  “So it was true.” Freed mused. “You are quite the weirdo huh. Someone who doesn’t use swords in this day and age…” Freed threw his head back and laughed, a deep booming sound that filled the entire forge.

  “Hey, You don’t need to call me weird, you bald blacksmith.” Abell hissed.

  “I suppose you’re right.” The blacksmith studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he could read exactly what kind of mood Abell was in just from looking at him. "You and my son,You guys had an issue at the tavern." he said finally, turning back to examine the blade he'd been working on. "Maybe it's time you two stopped arguing and clashed already."

  “I mean I…”

  Before Abell could figure out how to respond to that, Freed shouted toward the back of the shop, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the rain.

  "Mary! Where's the brat?"

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  A woman's voice called back from somewhere in the adjoining house, sharp but affectionate . "Honey, indoor voices, please!"

  Moments later, Mary appeared through the doorway that connected the forge to their home. Her black hair was neatly tied back, and she adjusted a few loose strands before offering Abell a warm smile.

  "Oh, Abell. Hello, dear." She glanced at her husband with a stern face. "Must you always shout like that?"

  "Is Torrin back yet?" Freed asked, ignoring the question entirely.

  "I hate when you do that but Hhe went to grab vegetables. Should be back any—" Mary stopped mid-sentence as the sound of the back door opening cut through the shop. "Ah, speak of the malignant."

  Torrin stepped through carrying a basket of vegetables in both hands, his hair damp from the rain. He paused the moment he saw Abell standing there, and for a second, neither of them moved.

  "Why's he here?" Torrin asked, his voice tight as he set the basket down with more force than necessary.

  Abell's jaw clenched. He didn't come here for this, but now that Torrin was standing right there with that same condescending look on his face.

  This my chance to prove him wrong.

  Abell's jaw clenched with a smile creeping at his lips.. "We can settle this. Right now."

  Torrin's eyes locked on Abell. He set the basket down, slowly, like he was trying to figure out if this was real.

  "I see you’re actually serious Abell," he said finally. “We’ll i’ve been waiting for this since you moved to this town.”

  Mary stepped forward, her expression stern. "Boys, this is not how we welcome people. Torrin, watch your manners. And Abell, I know your mother taught you better than to come in here looking for a fight."

  But Freed just laughed, the sound rumbling through the forge. He moved toward a rack on the far wall where various training weapons hung, most of them dulled from years of use. "Its no use, let 'em go at it, Mary. This has been brewing too long."

  He pulled down two weapons, a wooden word and a wooden axe. He held the sword out to Abell and the axe to Torrin.

  “Thanks father.” Torrin said, gripping the axe with incredible force.

  Abell grabbed the wooden sword in his left hand. He swung it around testing it’s weight but it was like he said, real sword weren’t for him. He tossed it back to Freed. "I’m sorry I don’t like it," he said.

  Freed's eyebrow rose. "GAHAHA,you really do only fight with glowing thing of yours?"

  "I guess I do." Abell let a slight smile escape his lips.

  "Suit yourself kid ." Freed continued laughing and set the training sword back on the rack.

  Mary's expression turned worried. "Abell, are you sure? Torrin has a weapon and I don’t want your mother to—"

  "I'm sure, I’ll be okay.."

  Torrin dusted off his axe, his eyes narrowing as he studied Abell. "You might as well use your lux, I don’t mind." He shrugged.

  “I don’t need it to defeat someone like you.” He just settled into a stance, feet planted, hands raised, weight balanced. He'd seen his mother take this stance a thousand times.

  Mary's breath caught. "That's..."

  "Keeko's fighting stance," Freed finished, sounding almost impressed. “I only ever seen her use it once but it’s quite effective for her.

  Torrin's knuckles went white around the axe handle. "Fine. Your funeral."

  "HOLD ON KIDS!! " Freed yelled, “Please take this outside.” jerking his head toward the training yard. "Unless you want to wreck my damn shop."

  The rain was still falling when they stepped out into the yard, though it had lessened to a steady drizzle. The ground was damp and slick with mud, and smoke curled from the chimney above them.

  Torrin tested the weight of the axe in his hand. "Didn't expect it like this."

  "You scared?" Abell asked.

  "Just didn't think you'd have the guts." Torrin's grip tightened on the handle. Then his expression hardened. "Still think you're better than Genevieve?"

  The rage that spiked through Abell was immediate, but he forced himself to stay controlled, to not just charge in blindly. "I never said I was," he replied, his voice steady despite the anger. "But I know I can still beat someone like you."

  Torrin snapped. "What's that supposed to mean?" His voice rose, anger bleeding through. "Is it because I don't have Lux? You think that makes you better than me?" He stepped forward, the axe gripped tight in his hand. "You cocky bastard."

  Abell opened his mouth to respond, but Torrin wasn't done.

  "When I win," Torrin said, his voice dropping lower, "Astrid will finally see who deserves her."

  Abell blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. "What's Astrid got to do with this?"

  Torrin didn't answer. He just readied himself, feet planted firmly in the mud, his eyes never leaving Abell's face.

  Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating both of them in stark white light. Thunder rolled a few seconds later, deep and resonant, like the sky itself was holding its breath.

  Freed and Mary stood in the doorway of the forge, watching. Neither of them moved to stop what was about to happen. The tension between the two boys stretched like a rope pulled taut, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move.

  Finally, Abell took a step forward, the mud squelching under his boot.

  "Let's go."