Page 78 of New World

He had been a boy then, barely able to lift it, watching in awe as she wielded it with impossible grace. He had tried to mimic her movements, had fallen more times than he cared to admit. She had only laughed, ruffling his hair. “One day, my son.”

Now, he was passing it on—not to his brother or sister, but to an Ancient Knight of the Gallant; to the woman he loved more than life itself.

His throat tightened. His mother would have loved Mei.

Mei’s fingers tightened around the Staff, and he saw it then—that quiet flicker of understanding.

“This belonged to my mother,” he said, his voice quieter now. “She carried it as a Knight of the Gallant Order before she left the war behind. It was a part of her. It was the same for my father.”

Mei took it reverently, her fingers tracing the metal. “Dorane…”

His eyes searched hers as he wrapped his fingers around hers when she started to hold it out. Their reaction to each other, their connection, was an almost palpable thread binding them.

“I would be honored if you carried it now.”

Something flickered in Mei’s gaze—something deep, something anchored.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dorane exhaled. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

He activated the Staff’s biometric security. The engravings flared softly, adjusting to Mei’s touch, the technology within recognizing her as its new master.

“The Staff will respond only to you now,” he murmured. “It will not allow another to wield it.”

Mei turned it over in her hands, adjusting her grip experimentally. Dorane watched as she shifted into a stance, testing the weight.

“You’ve used a staff before,” he noted.

She glanced up, amusement in her eyes. “It was one of my favorite weapons to train with.”

Dorane smiled. “Then let’s see what you can do.”

He withdrew his father’s Staff from the sheath at his waist. Extending it, he twirled it once before he lowered into a ready stance. Mei mirrored him, and for the next thirty minutes, they moved together. Strike. Parry. Counter. Their bodies flowed in sync, the Staffs humming as they connected.

Dorane’s breath caught as he watched her.

The way she moved—it reminded him of his mother.

She was grace and precision, power and control.

A deep emotion unraveled inside him when he disarmed her with a well-placed maneuver, only for her to flip backward and reclaim the Staff in one fluid motion.

He stepped forward, his breath slightly uneven.

Mei’s studied him with a calm that belied the hammering pulse at the base of her throat. Her eyes were bright with exhilaration when he cupped her face and kissed her.

Deep. Slow. Reverent.

He pulled back just enough to whisper, “No matter what happens, I need you to know—I love you.”

Mei’s breath hitched. Emotion flickered across her face, raw and unguarded.

Then, in one swift movement, she tugged him down and kissed him back, fierce and unyielding, as if she could carve the words into his very soul.

When they finally parted, she pressed her forehead to his.

Her voice was hushed but firm. “Then don’t die before this fight is over.”

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