The training field was a crucible of transformation, its air heavy with the metallic tang of exertion and the faint hum of latent energy.
If there was one thing Baines discovered during his training, it was the peace he found.
Aside from his meticulous blending of his plants, the rhythm of his sword offered such peace. Each swing was a meditation, a reassurance that tethered him to his purpose, and he continuously wanted that feeling.
After Baines had left,
Tasha lingered near the servant, her eyes tracing Baines's retreating figure. "Hey, now you've seen it, what do you think?" she asked, her voice tinged with both awe and frustration.
The servant, his weathered face creased with disbelief, sighed deeply.
