Fang returned to the palace with a calm grace, but each step was weighed with purpose. The divine aura around her pulsed stronger than ever — no longer just a girl, no longer just Fang. But right now, she didn't want to think about gods or war.
She just wanted to see him.
Following the distant sound of blades clashing, she made her way to the garden.
There, under the soft gold of the afternoon sun, stood Syaoran. He moved like water — sharp, fluid, focused — each strike clean and precise. Hidden behind a flowering tree, Fang watched him, admiration warming her chest.
As he spun into his final motion, his gaze lifted — and found her.
His eyes lit up immediately.
He sheathed his sword and approached, a playful smile curling his lips. "What are you doing here?"
Fang tilted her head, smiling. "Watching your swordsmanship. You're… impressive."
He chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes as he slipped an arm around her waist. "Then… want to try sparring with me?"
Fang's cheeks flushed, but she nodded.
Without warning, Syaoran swept her into his arms and flew with her to the open garden lawn.
Standing behind her, he gently guided her hands around the sword's hilt. She could feel his warmth, the steadiness of his grip, the silent beat of his heart brushing against her back.
"Your wrist is too stiff," he murmured near her ear, voice low and soft. "Loosen it. Let the blade move with you — not against you."
Fang adjusted, but her blush deepened. It wasn't the sword that made her nervous — it was him.
"But if I let it flow too much… won't I lose control?" she teased.
Syaoran smiled, guiding her hand in a graceful arc. "Control doesn't come from force. It comes from trust… in your body, in your blade…"
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
"…And in me."
They moved in harmony, a quiet rhythm building between them — steps and steel woven like a dance. It wasn't just practice. It was closeness. A silent promise neither of them needed to say aloud.
As they slowed, Syaoran gently tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered.
"You're doing better than you think," he said. "But don't hold back. I know you're stronger."
Fang looked up at him, her voice soft. "I'm only strong… because you believe I am."
Their eyes locked — the moment suspended in quiet emotion.
---
A few steps away, behind a stone pillar, the Queen stopped in her tracks.
"My queen?" her maid asked, puzzled.
The Queen peeked around the corner, a delighted smile on her face. "Look at them. My son's finally being romantic. Who knew he had it in him?"
The maid giggled. "If they see us, they'll never recover."
"You're right," the Queen whispered with a laugh. "But… let me enjoy this just a few more seconds."
They slipped away, their laughter fading with the breeze.
---
Back in the garden, Syaoran gently set the sword aside.
Still catching her breath, Fang asked, "Why were you practicing so seriously today?"
Syaoran's smile faded slightly. He turned his eyes toward the distant horizon, a quiet storm building behind them.
"Lucian has declared war," he said quietly. "It starts tomorrow."
Fang's heart clenched. Then slowly, she nodded.
"Then I wish you glory, Syaoran. And if you need me… I'll fight beside you."
He looked at her, his expression tender. He stepped closer, wrapping her in a warm embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"If you're safe… that alone gives me strength."
He gently kissed her forehead.
Fang's cheeks burned, her heart overflowing.
In that moment, a silent vow formed within her.
Syaoran… I'll protect you. I'll avenge what was lost. Even if it costs me everything… I will not fail you.