The Shattered Prophecy

Eryk stood in front of Darius’s humble home, his heart racing. The air around him was thick with the tension of the moment. He had asked for training. He had come to Darius with a simple request: to learn how to fight, to protect himself, to grow stronger. But Darius had made it clear that the road to becoming his disciple was not an easy one.

And now, as the weight of the situation pressed down on him, Eryk realized just how far he had to go.

Darius had led him to a small courtyard behind his house, a makeshift training ground with a dirt floor and a few scattered wooden dummies. Eryk could hear the faint sound of the city beyond, but here, it was quieter, as though time moved more slowly in this space. The only thing that mattered now was the challenge ahead.

“You want to learn from me?” Darius asked, his voice low and steady. “Then prove you’re worth my time. I will only accept you as my disciple if you can last thirty minutes against my first disciple.”

Eryk blinked, a sudden chill running down his spine. “Your... first disciple?”

Darius nodded, and just then, a figure emerged from the shadows of the courtyard. She was a woman, tall and lean, with a calm but focused demeanor. Her hair was tied back in a tight braid, and her eyes, sharp and unwavering, locked onto Eryk.

“This is Lyra,” Darius said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. “She’s been training with me for years. She is fast, skilled, and ruthless. If you can last thirty minutes with her, I’ll accept you as my disciple.”