Dawn had barely touched the broken walls of Arvendale when Celestine raised her sword for the first time.
The steel, still heavy in her hands, reflected the pale gleam of the snow.
The wind cut across her face, and every breath made the frozen air burn her lungs.
Behind her, the old master Raoul—the last surviving knight of House d'Arnoir—watched in silence.
> "You've got more than enough power, my lady," he said, crossing his arms. "But without control… even a flame dies in the wind."
Celestine drew in a deep breath.
> "Then teach me control. I want to be more than the Void."
Raoul gave a half-smile.
> "Strong words. Let's see if your body agrees."
He tossed a training sword at her feet.
Its impact in the snow echoed like a challenge.
---
⚔️ The First Cut
Training began simply: stances, balance, breathing.
But to Celestine, each movement felt like a battle.
Her body—used to grace and command—now trembled beneath the sword's weight.
Hours passed. The snow melted beneath the heat of her effort.
Raoul corrected every detail with rough patience:
> "The arm doesn't cut. The center does."
"Feel the ground. Be the ground."
"Again."
With every strike, Celestine felt the Void pulsing within her, trying to answer—offering power, speed, strength.
But she ignored it.
"Not this time," she thought. "Today, it's my strength."
Sweat ran down her neck. Her hands shook.
The sword slipped, burying itself in the snow.
She fell to her knees, gasping.
Raoul approached.
> "Why insist on fighting like a human, when you already carry something greater?"
Celestine lifted her gaze, her face covered in sweat and snow.
> "Because if I lose what I am… the Void will claim all that's left."
Raoul stayed silent for a long moment, then nodded.
> "Then stand, Duchess. You still haven't learned how to fall."
---
🌑 The Whisper in Training
That night, exhausted, Celestine rested beneath an improvised tent.
Her body ached, but her mind burned with resolve.
When she closed her eyes, the Void called to her.
> "You bleed to prove you're alive… why?"
She answered in thought:
> "Because blood reminds me I'm human."
> "Humans break. Suffer. Die."
> "And that's why they fight."
Silence.
Then the Void murmured, almost curious:
> "Then fight, Celestine. But remember… every blade that cuts also wounds the one who wields it."
She woke with a start.
The sword beside her glimmered faintly—as if it had heard everything.
---
⚔️ The Second Day
The next sunrise brought more pain… and progress.
Raoul increased the intensity, forcing her body to move until her muscles screamed.
This time, Celestine let the Void flow—just a little.
Enough to steady her balance.
And for the first time, the power didn't overwhelm her.
Instead, it moved with her.
The sound of steel slicing air echoed through the ruins.
Raoul stepped back, observing.
> "Now you're beginning to hear the sword."
She moved with wild elegance—a blend of human technique and otherworldly grace.
When training ended, Celestine fell to her knees—not from weakness, but from relief.
Leonhardt appeared, leaning on an improvised cane.
> "Didn't know nobles could sweat like that."
She gave him a sideways glance.
> "Times change. Even princes fall, don't they?"
He smiled faintly.
> "Then when does my training begin?"
Celestine blinked, surprised.
> "You… want to fight too?"
> "No. I just want to be beside you when you do."
The silence between them lasted only a moment—yet it spoke more than a thousand words.
---
🌹 Night Over Arvendale
Later, Celestine gazed up at the starry sky.
The sword was buried beside her, and the Void pulsed softly around her.
She closed her eyes and whispered:
> "Strength without control is destruction… but control without soul is weakness."
The wind blew gently, as if the Void itself had heard—and approved.
In the distance, the echoes of the empire stirred.
But that night, the northern villain began to be reborn… as a warrior.