I slam my sword into the dummy again. I know, I know, I know. It's only been a week. I remember when he came out with his... spirit father. He looked a mess. He had stab wounds, bruises, and a broken arm.

"There's no way he'll be back soon." I sigh.

What am I thinking? Don't be so selfish. Don't be a baby. He had to leave. He was half- or three quarters on the way to death's door. It will take time. This week has blown away. I have to keep myself busy, no matter what.

"Your swing is still soft squirt." I hear.

My eyes light up. I drop my sword.

🏵🏵🏵

"Your swing is still off." I say.

"Hector?" He turns.

"Raise your sword up a bit more, it's shaking in your hands." I walk over.

"Hector!" He jumps.

He runs over and grabs me.

"It's only been a week. I told you I'd be back." I say.

He grips me tightly.

"Oh brother, you're crying again." I sigh.

"... *Sniff* No, no, of course not." He wipes his face.

"We'll work on that." I say.

"Where's your father?" He asks.

"Back in the forest, we... we worked it out. I guess I should have listened to you." I say.

"Really?" He looks up at me.

"Really." I sigh.

He wipes his face off. I pull off my shirt.

"There are so many scars." He says.

"Scars make you stronger." I say.

"Can... you teach me how to hold a sword better?" He asks.

"Sure s... Varian." I take up his sword.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓃𝒹