The sun over Insomnia burned bright and merciless.
For once, the training yard was not lit by magitek lamps or illusion wards but by the real sky — an expanse of blinding gold reflecting off the Citadel's steel and crystal surfaces. Heat shimmered on the air, bending the horizon in waves.
Sirius stood barefoot in the center of the yard, blindfold tied firmly across his eyes. His breath was calm, controlled, unshaken despite the sweat trickling down his jawline.
Across from him, Zangan stretched lazily, grinning. "You sure you want to do this under daylight, pup? Most people can't handle ten minutes in that heat, let alone a full spar."
Sirius tilted his head slightly. "You said light teaches clarity."
Zangan smirked. "Yeah. But clarity hurts."
Cor stood on the sidelines, arms folded, shadow cutting across the stone. "Begin."
---
The first strike came without warning.
Sirius sidestepped on instinct, the faint rush of air against his cheek telling him exactly where Zangan's fist would land. The follow-up kick came from the left — he pivoted, blocked, countered.
Blind, but not lost.
Zangan grinned mid-combat. "You've gotten sharper. Before, you relied on speed. Now you're reading me through sound and air pressure."
Sirius exhaled, focusing on the rhythm of his mentor's movement. "You taught me to listen."
"Yeah," Zangan said, launching a spinning kick, "but I didn't mean this well."
Sirius ducked under it — the strike barely grazing his hair — and swept his leg in return. Zangan caught it, flipped him backward, and sent him rolling across the floor.
Sirius landed smoothly, breath steady. "You're pulling your punches."
"Maybe," Zangan said, smirking. "Maybe not."
The next exchange was faster. Zangan's strikes blurred; Sirius deflected them all. The rhythm of combat became sound and heat, movement and echo. Each step was an answer to a question unspoken.
To anyone watching, it would've looked like instinct.
But to Sirius, it was music.
Every breath of wind, every heartbeat of silence — all part of the song he was learning to master.
---
Cor watched silently, studying every motion. The boy had reached a level of flow even he hadn't expected. Every stance, every strike was no longer trained — it was remembered, as though Sirius had danced this fight a thousand times before in dreams.
Zangan broke the rhythm with a sudden feint — a stomp that cracked the floor, sending dust into the air. The explosion of sound and heat threw Sirius' senses off for a split second.
That was all it took.
Zangan swept in low, catching him off guard, and slammed him down onto the hot stone. The air burst from Sirius' lungs.
He stayed still for a moment, blindfold dark and heavy.
Then — slowly, deliberately — he smiled.
"Finally," he said, voice steady. "Something unpredictable."
Zangan blinked. "You're enjoying this way too much."
Sirius stood, adjusting the blindfold. "Again."
Cor's mouth twitched in faint approval. "Good. Now you're training for the unexpected."
---
They went again.
Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty.
Each round left Sirius more exhausted, sweat dripping from his chin, the heat distorting the air around him. His chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm, every exhale a note of focus.
Zangan's punches hit like thunder — precise, heavy. Sirius deflected them with minimum effort, learning to flow rather than resist.
Then, suddenly, Zangan switched tactics. He stopped using sound.
His movements turned silent — footsteps muted, strikes restrained, breathing hidden.
Sirius froze mid-step, blindfold fluttering in the wind. The world went still.
He listened — not with ears, but with something deeper.
The silence spoke. The shift in temperature, the faint displacement of air, the pressure on the ground — all subtle, all invisible.
He moved.
Zangan's fist passed through where his head had been a heartbeat earlier. Sirius turned the evasion into a counterstrike, palm pressing gently against Zangan's chest.
He didn't hit. He could have.
Zangan stopped, stunned.
Cor's voice broke the silence. "Enough."
The older man walked forward, eyeing Sirius. "You're adapting faster than ever. This level of awareness… I've only seen it once before."
Sirius tilted his head. "Who?"
Cor's expression hardened. "A man who died young because he believed he was invincible."
The message was clear.
Sirius bowed slightly. "Then I'll learn from his mistake."
Cor gave a single nod. "See that you do."
---
When training ended, the heat of the day began to fade. Sirius removed the blindfold, blinking into the brilliance of sunset. The Citadel glowed beneath the orange sky, the city below glittering like a field of stars.
Zangan handed him a bottle of water. "You know, you're starting to scare me a little."
Sirius took a sip. "Because I learn fast?"
"Because you stop feeling pain."
He frowned. "That's not true."
Zangan smiled faintly. "Then prove it. What hurts right now?"
Sirius looked out at the skyline. "The waiting."
Zangan blinked, then laughed softly. "You're too poetic for your own good."
Cor stepped closer. "He's right, though. Strength means nothing without purpose. You're chasing something you haven't named yet."
Sirius lowered his gaze. "I don't have to name it. I just have to reach it."
Cor sighed. "One day, that stubbornness will either save Lucis or destroy it."
"Maybe both," Sirius said quietly.
Cor looked at him — and for the first time, didn't disagree.
---
That evening, as the sky dimmed and the barrier shimmered faintly overhead, Sirius walked alone through the Citadel's gardens. The air smelled of rain and steel, the city's hum softer here.
He stopped near a fountain, closing his eyes again, replaying the day's training. Every movement echoed through his body — Zangan's rhythm, Cor's commands, his own counterflows.
He could feel the world differently now — not as sight or sound, but as a living field of motion.
Even blind, he could sense life.
A sparrow landed on the railing nearby. He turned toward it without opening his eyes.
The bird chirped once, startled, then flew away.
He smiled faintly. "Still too obvious."
---
When he returned home that night, Lyla greeted him with a towel and a half-exasperated smile. "You'll wear yourself out at this rate."
He took the towel, drying his face. "That's the idea."
She frowned. "That's not funny."
"Wasn't meant to be."
She sighed, then hugged him briefly, resting her head against his shoulder. "Whatever you're chasing, Sirius… make sure it's worth what you're giving up."
He hesitated. "It is."
She smiled softly, pulling back. "Then I hope I live to see it."
"You will," he said with quiet conviction.
Her eyes shimmered, but she said nothing.