The half-formed sword shattered again, dissolving into nothing.
Silence returned to the riverbank.
Amon remained kneeling there, breathing heavily. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the ground. His head throbbed painfully, and the veins along his neck were still slightly raised from the effort.
Yet his eyes did not show frustration. They showed determination. He stared at his trembling hands.
"A dagger is possible…"
His breathing slowly steadied.
"Then a sword will be too. I just need to work harder."
Even if it took him a hundred failures. He closed his eyes once more. And began again.
Just a little away from him was Scarlett, sitting on a branch of a tree. Her legs swayed in midair. She was wearing a tunic and black trousers. Her red hair, as always, was loose.
Just like always, she and Amon sparred. And after the spar ended, Amon would sit there trying to create things with his shadow.
