Page 119 of The Last Guardian

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. Another. Then I launched the attack.

My body hadn’t adapted to the new weapon—this sword was heavier than the one I had tried before. My muscle memory failed me, and I tripped. My bottom met the ground.

“Two things to remember when you wield a sword,” Dax had said a few lessons earlier. “Every movement must be anchored in the ground, and each step should weigh something.”

I sang these rules in my head, like an anchored memory for my body, as I continued to practice. After some time and a few adjustments, I sensed the beat, like a dance.

After more than a month of core training, my muscles were stronger. With each step, my self-confidence grew. Still, the sword was heavier than I could manage for now.

But today, I needed to vent my pent-up emotions—the stress and frustration that had kept me awake all night, that fear that kept creeping into my heart.

The more love, the more death. More weaknesses.

“That’s a good start,” Dax said with a gentle smile. “You need to strengthen your abs and arms so that you can hold the sword more firmly. We’ll carry on with sword training.”

I placed the sword on the weapons rack where the other weapons lay, then took the bow and the quiver of arrows. I slung them over my back as I nocked an arrow into the bow.

Dax shot me a look of surprise.

“I would like to continue a bit, but if you have somewhere else to be…”

“I don’t think any meeting with my soldiers is worth seeing that angry frown on your face,” Dax laughed. “I just wanted to make sure if you want to stop, you can.”

“Nope.” I aimed at the target. The arrow pierced the air and landed right in the middle.

All morning, we trained, just the two of us, and without the constant tumult of others, it was far easier to focus.

“What’s on your mind?” Dax asked.

Flashes of familiar faces nailed to walls invaded my mind—blood weeping down the stone. My siblings. I shook my head, chasing away the images.

“Nothing,” I lied and took another arrow. “I just need to blow off some steam.”

Dax said nothing as I aimed my arrow at the most distant target and released it. The arrow soared through the air and embedded itself in the red circle.

“You’ve never explained your power to me,” I said between two aims, curious.

Dax answered, “It’s basically the same as the Noxari, but our power sources are different.” He stepped closer to me, adjusting my stance. “Spine straight.” He crossed his arms, monitoring my aims.

“I’ve only seen Eirlys use her moonshade.”

“Eirlys’ power is far more ancient than any Noxari you will meet—I don’t even know the extent of her magic,” Dax explained in a deep voice. “Most of the Noxari wield their moonshade differently depending on their lineage. Some channel their power to enchant emotions and mind—the enchantresses. The sorceresses create protective spells. The seers receive visions and omens depending on the moon phases, and the oracles deliver prophecies from the Moon Goddess directly.”

Another arrow whistled in the air.

“And Nefeli?” I asked.

“Nefeli was part of the Warriors of the Moon—the huntresses. She had her father’s lineage in terms of Noxari—since they are half-breed.” I glanced at him, and with a smile on his lips, he added, “She can infuse her power into her blades.”

I widened my eyes.

“Like Zaid and I.” He smirked, satisfied. “Pretty awesome way to use our power if I must say.”

“What is the equivalent of Surani? In terms of lineage?”

“The sunblades, the Warrior of the sun, can channel their sunfire through their blades—or blackfire for Zaid.” Dax took a breath, “Some can channel sunfire to heal or ward spells—the paladins. The defenders can infuse their shields with sunfire. Solar augurs read omens from the sun, foresee battles. And the sentinels’ power works through unity; they can infuse themselves with sunfire.”

I eyed the general, who was picking his nails, his visible muscles tightening at each move, ornamented with more scars than I could think possible.