The city smelled of smoke and spice that morning. Kasim walked through the market with Arjun, the shard hidden under his cloak. Merchants shouted over one another, selling bread, cloth, and iron tools. A child ran past, laughing, while a guard scolded him for knocking over a basket of apples.
Kasim's eyes kept moving. He felt the weight of stares. Some were curious, some hostile. The nobles had spread word — the boy carried forbidden power.
Arjun muttered, "Keep your head down. They are watching."
"I can feel it," Kasim replied. His voice was low, almost nervous.
They turned a corner and entered a quieter street. The smell of damp stone replaced the spices. A crow cawed from a rooftop. Then, footsteps. Heavy, deliberate.
Three men stepped out from the shadows. Their cloaks were fine, their rings heavy. Nobles' guards. One spoke, his tone sharp. "The council demands the shard. Hand it over."
Arjun's jaw tightened. "The council has already spoken. The boy is chosen."
The guard sneered. "Chosen? He is a child. Give us the shard, or blood will spill."
Kasim's hand went to his blade. His heart raced. He could hear his own breath, quick and uneven.
Arjun whispered, "Wait. Let them strike first."
The guards moved. Steel flashed. The sound of swords scraping from their scabbards echoed down the narrow street. Kasim stepped back, his heel slipping on wet stone. He almost fell, but caught himself.
The first guard lunged. Kasim raised his blade. The clash rang out, sharp and loud. Sparks flew. His arms shook from the force, but he held.
The second guard circled. Kasim smelled sweat and iron. He swung, too fast, missing. The guard laughed. "Clumsy boy."
Arjun's voice cut through. "Focus!"
Kasim steadied himself. He remembered the training — every strike must mean something. He waited, then moved. His blade caught the guard's wrist. The man cried out, dropping his weapon.
The third guard hesitated. His eyes flicked to the shard glowing faintly under Kasim's cloak. Fear crossed his face. He stepped back. "This is no ordinary boy."
Arjun advanced. "Tell your masters. Lumora has chosen. If they want war, they will have it."
The guards retreated, muttering curses. The street grew quiet again. Kasim lowered his blade, his hands trembling.
Arjun placed a hand on his shoulder. "You did well. Not perfect, but well."
Kasim exhaled, shaky. "I almost fell."
Arjun smiled faintly. "Almost is not failure. Remember that."
They continued walking. Kasim's mind replayed the fight — the sound of steel, the smell of sweat, the laughter of the guard. He hated that laugh. It reminded him he was still learning, still vulnerable.
That night, Kasim sat alone with the shard. Its glow was steady, calm. He whispered, "I will not fail." But inside, he wondered — when the court struck again, would he be ready?