Chương 23: Gwen and Isabella

Gwen Altair is qualified to meet her mentor. Commencing teleportation to Mentor 'Isabella Altair'… Gwen caught herself, snapping her wings wide and gliding down until her greaves touched a paved road winding through the grounds in every direction, with neatly trimmed hedges bordering either side. The path threaded through Altair Park. The strange thing about the park was that you could see its end.

Walk far enough in any direction and the path simply ended, leaving nothing beyond the edge but open sky and distant clouds. This was AetherFall, an island suspended high in the sky, and the park belonged to the Altair Clan—one of three factions that claimed the floating landmass as their home. Women moved throughout the gardens, clipping hedges into precise shapes as the fresh scent of cut greenery lingered in the breeze.

At the far end of the park sat a training field occupied by three men who appeared to be in their twenties. A waist-high fence enclosed the wooden platform, where straw dummies stood arranged in orderly rows, and rings of light hovered at varying heights above the field.

"Hello, Mother," Gwen said, as she followed the stone path toward a woman trimming an Aether Tree with a pair of hedge shears. Isabella shared her daughter's silver hair, though hers was combed to silky perfection, cascading neatly down her back between a pair of pristine white wings folded against her shoulders. Gwen's, by contrast, was haggard and battle-worn.

"You're here." Isabella neither turned nor glanced over her shoulder. Her voice remained composed, but Gwen heard the disappointment beneath it immediately.

"I suppose that means the third level is already finished." She clipped another stray branch before gesturing Gwen closer with the shears.

"Come. Help me tend to the Aether Trees." Gwen trudged across the immaculate grass and stopped beside her mother. Isabella reached into her storage ring, withdrew a second pair of shears, and held them out. Gwen begrudgingly accepted them. She turned her attention to the Aether Trees. Their leaves spread into tapered, star-shaped points, snowy white with faint sky-blue edges. Even the bark carried the same white coloration. Gwen settled into a rhythm beside her mother.

For several minutes, the shears and the distant splash of the fountain were the only sounds between them. Isabella kept her gaze fixed on the uneven branches until she finally broke the silence.

"Take off that ridiculous armor, will you?" Her voice remained smooth, though a sharper edge had crept beneath it. She cut away another branch harder than necessary.

"Did you really have to go and play warrior?" Gwen's shears slowed.

"What if you'd died?" Isabella continued.

"What if you'd lost your class because of that game's idiotic rule?" Her composure cracked with every word until the softness vanished entirely.

"Do you have any idea what you were risking?" Gwen's shears stilled mid-snip, though Isabella's continued clipping without pause.

"I don't care if I lose my class. I'll be the same with or without it. And you can't change me."

"That's your problem, Gwen. You've already changed!" Isabella finally lowered her shears and turned to face her daughter, giving Gwen her full attention for the first time.

"You and I both know your class isn't suited for combat. And no matter how hard you try to force it, the elders will push back eventually." Her expression tightened.

"Just follow the path laid out for you. Please, I'm begging you. Otherwise, you'll end up like your sister." Isabella lingered on the final word, her stare hard and unwavering.

"Like my sister, huh?" Gwen's lips rounded in exaggerated surprise.

"That was then. Things are different now. I've got the gracious protection from my new father now, don't I? A man no less." A thin smile tugged at her mouth.

"What do I have to worry about?" Isabella said nothing. She simply watched her daughter, catching the slight tremor in Gwen's pupils and the flush creeping up her neck. After several tense seconds, Isabella released a long breath and turned back to the tree. The quiet snip of her shears resumed.

"You'll learn eventually…" Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Then, her voice jumped into a bright, almost chirpy pitch that didn't match the tone of the air at all.

"So, what would you like for your boon? A shiny helmet to match that costume of yours? Perhaps a shield?" The sweetness in her tone only sharpened the condescension beneath it.

"I don't need anything from you." Gwen rolled her eyes.

"Fine." Isabella flicked a hand dismissively.

"Then you can help me maintain the park for the remainder of your intermission." Gwen's face twisted into a scowl at the thought. Her gaze drifted toward the nearby training field, where three boys around her age practiced beneath the sun. All three shared the Altair Clan's silver-white hair and feathered wings, their bodies encased in polished steel plate. Two traded blows in a one-on-one duel while the third hammered a wooden sword against a straw dummy.

"You know what? I've got a better idea." Before Isabella could respond, Gwen spread her wings and launched herself into the air. A few strong beats from her wings carried her over the fence before she glided toward the training field, hedge shears still clutched in one hand. Once her presence was known, the boys disengaged their fights, and their wooden blades lowered as all three turned toward her. Gwen landed with a light thump.

She folded her wings behind her as the nearest boy stepped forward and gave her armor an amused scan.

"Did you steal that plate armor from your brother?" His mouth curled into a grin.

"Aren't you a little old to be playing pretend warrior?" The other two burst into laughter.

"If I'm pretending, then you shouldn't have any trouble fighting me." Gwen shrugged, raising her free hand.

"All three of you. Come at me." She tilted her head toward their wooden swords.

"And trade those toys for real blades. I'm using one, after all." The boy blinked, then barked out another laugh.

"A real blade?" He pointed toward the hedge shears now raised beside Gwen's head as she settled into a fighting stance.

"You mean those?" Gwen's grip tightened around the handles. His grin widened.

"Fine. We'll make sure to patch you up real good afterward." He reached into his storage ring and drew a steel longsword. The other two followed, their practice weapons vanishing as sharpened blades appeared in their hands.

"Then you can cook us a nice hot dinner. We're famished from training all day, you see." Gwen smirked and curled four fingers toward herself, beckoning them forward. The three boys charged at once. One launched into the air with a powerful beat of his wings while the other two rushed her from opposite sides. Gwen hovered barely an inch above the planks, the tips of her steel greaves skimming the wood as she waited for them to close the distance.

At the last possible second, she shot sideways in a blur—a sharp gust trailing beside her—and appeared along the right boy's flank. The sudden shift caught him completely off guard. He twisted to follow, but his footing slipped beneath him, arms spreading wide as his wings flared to keep him upright. He recovered too slowly. Gwen lifted one knee against her stomach, then snapped her leg straight into his chest. The impact folded him around her boot and hurled him across the training field.

He cleared the fence and vanished into the hedges with a violent crash of snapping branches. The boy overhead was already diving. His wings folded tight against his body, silver hair whipping behind him as he descended like a hurtling spear—longsword leveled directly at Gwen. She remained still. Her arms loose at her sides, until he was nearly on top of her. Then her hand flashed upward. The hedge shears clamped around his blade with a metallic clang, their cutting edges biting against the steel.

His momentum was far too great for her to stop outright, but she didn't need to. Gwen twisted her wrist and ripped his sword off-line, ruining the angle of his dive. With a hard backhand motion, she redirected him past her and slammed him face-first into the wooden planks. That left the one who had mocked her. With Gwen's back turned, he thought he had his opening. He stepped in and drew his sword back for a slash—but Gwen's wings weren't only useful for flying.

One snapped upward and struck the underside of his forearm. His grip broke instantly, sending the longsword flying through the air. Before he could react, Gwen pivoted on her heel. She thrust the shears with a stiff arm directly into his groin, punching through a gap in his armor. His scream tore across Altair Park, and every head in the gardens turned. The boy dropped his hands to his groin and doubled over, his face drained of color.

Gwen tore the shears free, leaving the blades slick with blood as he collapsed onto his knees before landing face-first onto the planks. She stood over him without a trace of sympathy, staring down at his crumpled body.

"Hopefully, a potion won't fix those." Gwen spread her wings and snapped them downward, launching several feet into the air. She left the training field behind and drifted back across the garden toward Isabella, who had finally stopped trimming the trees.

"What did you do?" Isabella shouted as Gwen approached. Gwen released the bloodstained shears. They dropped through the air and landed among the branches of the Aether Tree Isabella had been tending. Her mother recoiled, staring at the blood-soaken blades in disbelief.

"I'm sure you can clean up my mess!" Gwen called down, cupping one hand around her mouth as she continued flying away. A grin spread across her face.

"You're really good at that!"