Sizzling sounds filled the air as practice blade after practice blade shattered in Auryn's hands. The metals turned to powder, slipping between his fingers like grains of sand.
Castor eyes remained focused. He didn't react in the slightest. He simply handed Auryn another from the rack beside the training post. The fifth one in the last ten minutes.
"Again!" He yelled.
Auryn's eyes narrowed, he looked at the soldiers that watched from the courtyard walls.
The morning sun cutting across stone. Cold air carried no sound other than Castor's voice. Or should it be said his voice overwhelmed the others.
"Consecration requires control, not force," he stared at Auryn who in turn stared at the new blade.
Auryn balanced the blade in his hand and it felt as ordinary as steel can be.
Maybe that's why it keeps withering, he thought.
