The cell had been empty for three days—days that stretched into eternity for Alex. Three days of hard labor, muscle pain, and a creeping loneliness that began to burrow into his thoughts. Each day ended the same: he returned exhausted, aching, and frustrated by his own helplessness. And each evening, whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her—her gaze, her pride, her strength, all things he still lacked.
On the third day, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, Alex sat on his bedding, trying to catch his breath after another punishing day. Suddenly, he heard the clank of the door opening. He jumped instinctively, his heart pounding—but this time, it wasn't a guard who entered.
Lyra stepped slowly into the cell.
The elf moved with care, clearly limping on her right leg. Alex immediately noticed the bandages wrapped around her left arm, faintly bloodied at the edges, revealing fresh wounds. Her face was pale, but her eyes held the same calm, focused expression he had come to recognize. Without a word, she crossed to the corner of the cell, sat down on her bedding, and gently began to massage her aching shoulders.
Alex watched her in silence, unsure whether he should speak. After a moment, Lyra stood, stepped away from the wall, and began stretching in the dim light—slowly but with precision. Each of her movements was harmonious and fluid, like a dance without music. She twisted her body with grace, tensed her muscles, shifted her weight from one leg to the other, creating a complex, hypnotic display. Alex felt his tension slowly melt into fascination.
Finally, he gathered the courage to break the silence.
"Where have you been these past three days?" he asked cautiously, uncertain if he would get an answer at all.
Lyra didn't even glance at him, continuing her stretches.
"Somewhere you wouldn't want to be," she said shortly. "And if you ended up there, you wouldn't be coming back. Don't ask for details."
Alex bit his lip. He knew that was all he'd get. Still, his eyes followed her precise movements. He felt a rising envy for the way she controlled her body—how every move spoke of years of experience.
"Could you teach me?" he asked suddenly, almost without thinking.
Lyra paused mid-motion, turning to him with a furrowed brow, as if she had only just noticed he'd been watching her the entire time.
"You want to learn how to fight?" she asked, raising one eyebrow slightly. "Do you have the will to survive it?"
"I do," he said at once, though his voice trembled slightly.
She studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether he was worth her time.
"Fine," she said at last, a barely noticeable hint of approval in her voice. "We'll start with the basics."
Alex stood up uncertainly and stepped closer. Lyra faced him, her gaze becoming sharp and focused. She showed him a simple defensive stance—knees slightly bent, hands raised in front. Every move she made was deliberate and flawless.
"This is the foundation," she said. "The most important thing is balance and readiness. You must react quickly, without hesitation."
Alex mirrored her stance, though his body was still stiff and awkward. Lyra circled him, adjusting his posture, tapping his legs to force better stability. She pointed out every mistake without mercy—but never lost her patience.
The hours passed quickly. Alex felt his muscles begin to burn, but this time the pain felt different—it brought a sense of accomplishment. With each new exercise, he felt like he was gaining something valuable: strength that could help him endure.
"Let's try something else," Lyra said finally, a slight challenge flickering in her eyes. "Sparring. I want to see how fast you're learning."
Alex swallowed hard, nervous but nodded, ready to face the test.
She attacked without warning—faster than he expected. Her movement was lightning-quick—Alex barely had time to raise his arms when she grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and before he could react, she was on top of him, pinning him down effortlessly.
He froze, breathing heavily, realizing that Lyra was pressed against him, her face only inches from his. His heart pounded like mad—he could feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her body unexpectedly so close. His gaze wandered lower, stopping at the shape of her breasts, now firmly pressed against his chest.
Lyra quickly noticed his reaction. For a moment, amusement flickered in her eyes, but then she pulled away, allowing him to breathe again.
"Don't focus on me," she said coldly, though the corner of her mouth hinted at a smirk. "Focus on your opponent—or you'll never win a fight."
Alex got up with difficulty, his face flushed with embarrassment—but also oddly exhilarated by the brief closeness. Lyra once again took her fighting stance, motioning for him to do the same.
"Again," she said calmly, though there was a touch of warmth in her voice this time. "And try not to fall so quickly this time."
Alex nodded, focusing with all his strength. He knew the road ahead would be long if he wanted to learn what Lyra was trying to teach him—but he was ready to take that path. Not just to survive, but to one day stand beside her as an equal.
She attacked again—just as fast and decisive. This time, Alex managed to stay on his feet a little longer, though in the end, she still brought him down, pinning him beneath her again.
As their eyes met, he saw something more than just the stern gaze of a teacher—perhaps a flicker of respect, or something else he didn't yet understand.