6 years earlier

Melliachd felt a sharp sting of pain as the wooden sword hit her wrist, her own sword falling to the ground with a clatter.

"Oh, come on, Mel! Focus!" The tiefling boy standing opposite her rolled his eyes, impatience written all over his face.

Massaging her wrist, Mel replied: "I am getting tired, Telf. We've been on it for hours without a break."

Her complaints fell on deaf ears. The boy sighed, his own dark red skin already glistening with sweat, but still he pressed on: "It's only three weeks until the trials and we have to get in."

The girl groaned, but picked up her sword reluctantly. Telf was like a brother to her. She couldn't even remember a time where they hadn't been close friends. So when he announced two years ago, that he wanted to join the army, it was clear for Melliachd that she would try to get in as well. She had secretly hoped, though, that he would have changed his mind by the time they were of age, but he was still hellbent on doing it. And Mel had to admit that his reasoning made sense. They lived in a rural village in the mountains, secluded from any major town or trade route. They all managed to get by, but it was hard, especially in winter when supplies became scarce. And the only way out for them and their families was to get to a high enough rank at the army.

So here they were, soaked in sweat, practising their moves, constantly pushing their bodies to their limits. Mel flexed her wrist to check if it had suffered any serious damage. It hurt and was swollen, but that was nothing new. She nodded towards Telf and, within a split second, the boy was on her again in full force. All his moves were so familiar to her, her body dodged his blows on auto-pilot, giving her enough time to focus on his open spots. She stayed on the defence, dodging or deflecting his blows. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in speed and stamina, so the longer their fight lasted, the better her chances at winning. Telf knew that as well, so his tactics usually consisted of using all his strength in a few hard blows, hoping to knock her off her feet.

Mel winced as she had just deflected a hard blow from the front with her sword, which sent a jolting pain through her wrist. The tiefling boy took advantage of that sign of weakness, and gave his sword, which was still crossed with hers, another hard push. Mel stumbled back, trying to regain her balance. She had just found her footing again when his sword arm came down in an arch, aiming for her head. But this left his right flank open for just a split second, which was enough time for the girl to lunge forward and swing her own blade at his torso. She heard the boy suck in his breath. Melliachd had always been the better fighter of the two of them. One more reason for her to accompany him. She would have never forgiven herself if he'd fall in battle without her being on his side.

"Fuck!" Telf slammed his wooden sword into the ground. "How am I supposed to impress them at the trials if I can't even win against you? You're two heads smaller than me", he exclaimed, frustration carried in his voice.

"Being smaller makes me easier to hit," Melliachd shrugged. "But you'll be fine. They're testing us in a group fight, right? So you won't be fighting against me. And if we just stay together, we'll be fine. I'll be your wit and you'll be my strength. It's like in those old stories. Two opposing forces completing each other."

Mel sat down at the border of their little fighting area, which stood upon a hill overlooking the whole village, signalling the boy that their practice was over.

Telf chuckled dismissively. "You and your stories. One would think you'd be old enough to stop believing in them."

Mel just let the comment slide. He had never understood her obsession with them. But for her, they weren't just stories. They were different worlds to escape to, to draw strength from when the real world just seemed to much for her to handle.

From the corner of her eye, she was the boy sit down next to her, their arms always touching. Even their skins made for a stark contrast. Hers a pale purple colour, that almost looked human in the warm light the setting sun was bathing the hill in, and his a dark rich red.

"Do you think you'll miss it?" the boy asked.

"What?" Mel raised her eyebrow, confused.
"The village. Everyone living here. This view." Telf gestured towards the lake glittering in the far distance.

Mel hesitated.

"I guess not as much as I'd miss you," she whispered, not averting her gaze from the lake.

But she didn't even have to look at the boy, to know that she'd find a look of surprise on his face. The same look she had when, without saying a word, she suddenly found Telf's fingers intertwined with hers.