Sera's Pov
Three days had passed since the announcement, and nearly everyone had chosen their weapons. Some went for fancy, oversized blades they struggled with lifting, while others took their time selecting something they could actually wield. The armory where the weapons were kept had become a place of excitement and bragging rights, as trainees paraded their choices, discussing the upcoming gathering knowing they had met the criteria.
I, however, was getting worried.
No matter how many times I walked through the armory, how many weapons I held, tested, swung, nothing felt right. It sounded ridiculous, I knew. I could easily just take the short sword I had used in the competition and be done with it. But if this whole thing was supposed to be about finding a weapon that felt like an extension of myself, then I wanted to do it right.
At least I wasn't completely alone in my struggle. Kael hadn't picked a weapon either, but unlike me, he didn't seem the least bit concerned. If anything, he looked amused every time I dragged him to the armory, my frustration mounting with each failure.
"Why aren't you picking anything?" I asked him on the second day as I sorted through a row of daggers, hoping one might speak to me somehow.
He leaned lazily against the rack, arms crossed. "Because I already have a weapon."
I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. "What?"
Kael smirked, clearly enjoying my confusion. "It was passed down to me. I don't need another. I already told an instructor, and they approved it. I just have to wait for it to get here."
"Wait—they just let you do that?" I was honestly shocked. The instructors were strict about everything. I thought they'd make everyone choose from the weapons provided or forge a new one.
"Surprisingly easy," he confirmed, grinning at my disbelief. "Guess they realized there's no point in making me choose when I won't use it."
That made sense. But it didn't help my situation. I still needed to find a weapon, or I wouldn't be allowed into the gathering. I didn't care about the ball itself, but it was my only chance to see my father again, even if only for a few moments. That alone made it worth every bit of this struggle.
Another day passed, and my frustration only grew. Kael, on the other hand, was insufferable. Since he had nothing to worry about, he spent his time teasing me instead, offering the most absurd suggestions.
"What about a giant axe? You'd look intimidating swinging that thing around."
"Kael."
"Or maybe a whip? You could be the first to introduce it as a combat weapon."
"Kael, I swear—"
"Or," he grinned, voice dripping with amusement, "you could just pick that rusty dagger over there and call it a day."
I threw a wooden practice sword at him. He dodged easily, laughing as I huffed in frustration.
By the fifth day, I had officially reached desperation. I was ready to just grab something and hope for the best when I noticed something unusual in the training grounds.
Lucian was here.
That alone wasn't strange—he had been making appearances more often lately, usually to oversee training and intimidate everyone with his presence. But today, something was different. He wasn't just watching. He was holding a box.
A wooden box, plain but sturdy, resting in his hands as he surveyed the area. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in the way he carried it, something deliberate.
I frowned, wondering what he was doing, when I caught Kael shifting beside me.
It was subtle. A twitch of his fingers, a barely noticeable tension in his posture. But I had spent enough time around him to recognize it for what it was.
He knew what was in that box.
Lucian's gaze swept over the crowd before landing on Kael. He didn't call him forward, didn't say a word,but the message was clear.
This was his weapon.