Page 8 of Isle of Beasts and Shadows

As they began, Jonathan’s voice was calm and guiding, offering corrections and encouragement. She could feel herself slowly adjusting, finding a rhythm that felt both foreign and familiar. The ship swayed gently beneath them, but she focused on Jonathan’s words and the feel of Dawnbreaker in her hands, determined to learn and grow stronger.

She mimicked his stance, legs apart, knees slightly bent. The first clash of their blades sent a shiver down her spine, the metallic ring echoing in the cool evening air.

Jonathan was a patient teacher, guiding her through the basics with a steady hand and calm voice, each word carefully chosen to instill confidence. Each swing, each block, was a small victory, a testament to her determination to survive in a world that seemed hell-bent on breaking her spirit.

As twilight turned to dusk, they practiced relentlessly; the air filling with the sharp sound of clashing steel and their labored breaths. There were moments when she faltered, her inexperience showing, but Jonathan was always there to correct her, to offer a word of encouragement. His eyes, sharp and focused, never missed a detail—adjusting her grip, repositioning her stance, ensuring every movement was precise.

“You’re doing great,” he said after an intense round. Sweat trickled down her face, but there was a light in her eyes, a fire that hadn’t been there before.

“Thanks,” she panted, wiping her brow. “I never thought I could actually do this.”

“You have the heart of a warrior, Airella. With practice, you’ll only get better,” Jonathan gave her a nod of approval.

As they continued, Jonathan corrected her grip and posture with a patience borne from experience. With each swing of the axe, Airella felt a growing connection to the weapon—and to the man who taught her its secrets.

“Your father,” Jonathan began during a lull in their training, his tone shifting to one of reverence, “he had a way with the men. He led with strength, but also with heart.”

“Was he... was he a good man?” Airella dared to ask, her voice a whisper lost amidst the creaking wood and rushing waves.

Jonathan hesitated.

“He was the best of us,” he finally admitted. “To me, he was more than just a leader. He was the father I lost.”

“Lost?” Airella probed gently, sensing the depth of his sorrow.

“Before Eldaraya became my home, I was from Aurian. Your father spared my life after my village...” Jonathan’s green eyes clouded over, his words trailing off as he grappled with the memory. “After they razed it to the ground. My family didn’t survive.”

Airella’s grip on Dawnbreaker tightened, the revelation connecting them through shared loss.

“Yet you stayed,” she murmured, understanding the complexity of his emotions.

“I had nowhere else to go,” he confessed, his gaze flickering to the churning waters below. “Lysander saw potential in me. He trained me, made me his apprentice. But Duran...” Jonathan’s expression hardened. “He and your father were close before... Before everything changed.”

“Changed how?” Airella pressed, eager to understand the shadows that lingered behind Jonathan’s eyes.

“Let’s just say Duran’s heart seems to beat to a different drum now.” Jonathan’s jaw clenched. “Be wary of him.”

“Thank you,” Airella said softly, feeling the weight of his trust. “For sharing that with me.”

“Trust goes both ways,” Jonathan replied, his gaze meeting hers. “And so does learning. Now, show me that strike again. Remember, with Dawnbreaker in your hands, you’re not just fighting—you’re continuing a legacy.”

Airella nodded, the knowledge of her father’s impact on Jonathan, and the soldiers at large, strengthening her resolve. With renewed vigor, she lifted the axe, the blade singing through the air as she repeated the motion, her movements becoming surer under Jonathan’s watchful eye.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck as the ship sailed ever closer to the isle. The scent of salt and wood mixed with the distant calls of seabirds, creating an almost serene backdrop to their intense training. Together, united by their shared experiences and goals, Jonathan and Airella prepared to face what lay ahead, the unknown no longer quite so daunting.

Jonathan shared more stories about her father, painting a picture of a man who was both a fierce warrior and a compassionate leader. Airella listened intently, each tale adding to her understanding of the legacy she was part of. The stories were not just about battles and victories but also about moments of kindness and wisdom, lessons that her father had imparted to those he led.

“Your father once said,” Jonathan recounted, “that true strength is not just in the arm that wields the blade, but in the heart that guides it. It’s that heart, Airella, that will make you a prominent leader.”

Airella felt a surge of pride and a deep sense of responsibility. She was not just training to fight, but to uphold the values her father had lived by.

As the following day turned to night, the stars twinkled above them, silent witnesses to their journey. The bond between teacher and student strengthened with each passing moment, forging a partnership that would be crucial in the battles to come.

With each strike and parry, Airella’s confidence grew, her movements becoming more fluid and powerful. Jonathan’s encouragement and guidance were unwavering, his belief in her evident in every word and action. They trained until the moon was high, its silver light casting an ethereal glow on the deck.

Finally, as exhaustion set in, Jonathan called an end to their session. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said, sheathing his sword. “Rest now, Airella. Tomorrow we continue.”

Airella nodded, her body aching, but her spirit invigorated. She knew that with Jonathan’s help, she would be ready to face whatever challenges awaited them on the isle. As she walked to her cabin, she replayed the day’s lessons in her mind, each detail etched into her memory.

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