Shadows Beneath the Blade
The ringing of swords rang out across the morning air in the training hall, a cadence of swift steel and sharp footwork. Orion and Lysandra moved as one, their feet perfectly in time. Laughter ebbed between them, uncontrolled and light, as Orion adjusted a stance and Lysandra teased him for being too severe. Their intent was so singular, neither saw the figure at the doorway, shrouded in shadow and sunlight.
Unnoticed by them, a shadow stood at the entrance of the training hall.
A tall figure, black-haired and black-eyed, his jaw clenched tight and his gaze locked onto them—Edric Vale, Orion's stepbrother and Lord Theo's firstborn.
Anger brewed in his gaze. The image before him pierced like a knife to the heart. The brother he hated more than anyone in the world. standing next to her the very same woman Edric had pined for in silence, sought with words, and fantasized about winning over. Laughing. training. Close. Too close.
Edric's dislike for Orion wasn't rooted in competition—it went further than that. Theirs was never a bond of warmth or enmity — only an oppressive, cold distance. Lord Theo never had affection for his wives or children. Theirs had always been a warmth of motherhood. And that was where the cracks had started to appear.
Orion's mom, Celia, had spoiled her only son. And worse, Edric's own mom, Sera, had immediately bonded to Orion as if he was a son of her own—loving him, protecting him, standing up for him sometime even begin to forget Edric and Arin and that not all his own blood younger sister, Elara, looked up to Orion more than she ever did her own brother. And now… Lysandra Voss.
The woman Edric had loved, haunted in silence and in tempest, now smiled by Orion's side as if spring had erupted in her breast.
Jealousy seethed deep within him; his eyes became darker. He recalled how he'd not been able to sleep throughout the night following the banquet, when Lysandra and Orion had sat next to each other, speaking, laughing. It ripped apart his insides. He had gotten up early, hoping to practice with Lysandra, to brighten his mood. He'd even gone to her quarters, smiling on his face
He even went to her quarters, smile in readiness. But upon reaching, only to find it empty, and the guard who told him she had already proceeded to the training hall, a knot churned in his stomach.
Yet, he reminded himself — She must be alone. I'll approach her. We'll speak. Just as before and perhaps I came closer to her. But when he got to the training hall, hope was crushed. When he noticed her with Orion. Laughing. Again.
Edric approached and entered the training hall, his boots clicking sharply on marble. That made the moment cease. Lysandra and Orion turned. Swords dropped.
Edric's mask slipped on—one simple smile concealing his seething blood.
"Good morning, Lysandra," he greeted her, voice warm and silky. Then his eyes drifted to Orion. "And to you, little brother."
Orion dropped his blade, sweat beading across his forehead. His eyes hardened slightly. "Morning," he answered, with caution tone.
Lysandra, always serene, nodded. "Good morning, Lord Edric," she said in an even tone.
"I see you're instructing some swordplay, my brother," Edric replied, his voice slick with oil. "Lysandra, you're so kind. Generous, as ever."
Lysandra's eyes were still unruffled, but icy. "There is some misunderstanding, Lord Edric," she replied in a flat tone. "Lord Orion was demonstrating one of his own techniques to me. His instruction has been. beneficial."
A flash of shock passed over Edric's face. He? Orion? Swordplay instruction? His habitual smile remained, but his fists tightened behind his back. "You surprise me, little brother," he stated with habitual warmth.
Lysandra's face did not change. "By the way, Lord Edric," she said in a firm tone, "address me as Miss Voss. We are not nearly that acquainted.".
Edric's smile wavered for a blink, taken aback. "My apologies. I simply thought, as classmates—"
"Classmates are not always friends," she interrupted smoothly. "Courtesy is not to be confused with familiarity."
A silence fell between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
Orion remained silent, his silence a quiet barrier. He was familiar with Edric's tricks.
Edric's fists grew tighter under the material of his cloak. His eyes fell to the sword at Orion's side. His eyes glowed darkly. I received the cold shoulder because of you. Now I'll show you what happens when you step across my line.
But out loud, he smiled. "It's been a while since we fought each other, Orion," he said in pretended warmth. "How about a friendly spar? It would be nice to see how your progress."
Lysandra's eyes narrowed a little, knowing his trick. She knew Edric's fixation and his risky guarding over her. And she knows he love her like madman but She'd told him many times—she didn't feel anything for him. But he never heard. other male student in academy had approached or asked for help with her, only to be bruised black and blue the next morning. Edric never stood for any man talking to her for more than a minute. And now, it was Orion.
A spark of irritation flashed in her chest. She stepped forward to interrupt—but a voice intervened first.
"I'm exhausted," Orion stated coldly, not even glancing at Edric. "Training with Lysandra has drained me."
The coolness was biting. Edric's eyes narrowed.
Edric's smile faltered. "But brother ––"
"If he doesn't want to spar, no need to push him, Lord Edric," Lysandra snapped, her tone as crystal clear as pure water.
Edric nodded at her, a flash of irritation behind his smile. But he suppressed it. "Of course, I am not pushing him."
There was a pause. And then something crossed his eyes.
"Brother, you do recall Father hosting a hunting contest each year following some weeks hence blessing ceremony? The one on young cultivators?"
Orion's brow twitched. "Yes."
Edric's smile grew—broad. Too broad. "Are you signing up?"
"I believe so," Orion said gingerly.
He faced Lysandra. "Miss Voss, would you care to be part of Valeric City's Hunting Competition?"
Orion glared. Why invite her?
"You forget," he stated sharply, "those are novice cultivators only allowed to sign up.".
"True," replied Edric, "but if I ask for it, Father may grant us permission to wear cultivation-suppressing bracelets. We'd fall under the rules then."
Lysandra furrowed her brows in consideration. She'd completed her academy task and was, technically, on a break. It was local. It couldn't hurt to. Still. Edric's purposes were never quite so straightforward.
"I'm not sure," she said hesitantly. "Competition like that isn't my idea of a good time."
"Please," Edric pressed, his voice honeyed. "It's not just a hunt—it's a celebration. All our classmates will be there. It will be fun."
Lysandra looked at him quietly. He's working too hard. Why? What is he thinking in that warped head of his?
But she had no grounds to flatly decline. Not yet.
"If Lord Theo gives permission," she said at last, "I'll think about taking part."
Edric grinned. "Excellent! I'll talk to Father today."
Orion looked at him, then at Lysandra. Something dark was simmering under that smile. He could sense it. Something was on its way.
Then, with a soft smile, Edric moved forward, shifting his cloak and spoke with wit smile. "Miss Voss, shall we go to breakfast? Everyone is waiting."
Lysandra gazed out at the sky—the sun had risen higher. She nodded. Then addressed Orion.
"Thank you for showing me the fundamentals of your style," she said gratefully and bowed her head.
Orion nodded. "It's nothing, Miss Voss. Just practice diligently."
As Lysandra walked away, Edric trailed behind, but not before he gave Orion one final glance—a crooked smile, full of derision.
Orion remained silent. What do you want now, brother?
He sighed, then left the arena, his mind lingering on the strange smile Edric wore.