The cell had been empty for three days, and for Alex, they dragged on like an eternity. Three days of hard labor, aching muscles, and a creeping loneliness that slowly began to infiltrate his thoughts. Each day ended the same: he returned exhausted, sore, and frustrated by his own helplessness. Every evening, when he closed his eyes, he saw her — her gaze, her pride, and the strength he still didn't possess.
On the third day, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, Alex sat on his bedding, trying to catch his breath after another grueling day of tasks. Suddenly, he heard the clank of the door unlocking. He jumped instinctively, his heart pounding wildly, but this time it wasn't a guard who entered — it was Lyra.
The elf moved carefully, clearly limping on her right leg. Alex immediately noticed the bandages on her left arm, lightly stained with blood, revealing fresh wounds. Her face was pale, yet her eyes held that same calm, focused expression he knew so well. Without a word, she walked to the corner of the cell, sat down on the bedding, and gently began massaging her sore shoulders.
Alex watched her in silence, hesitating to speak. After a moment, Lyra stood, stepped away from the wall, and slowly, but precisely, began stretching in the dim light. Each movement was smooth and harmonious, like a dance without music. She bent her body with grace, tensed her muscles, shifted her weight from one leg to the other, creating a complex, hypnotic display.
Alex felt the tension in him slowly give way to fascination.
"Where have you been these past three days?" he asked cautiously.
Lyra didn't even glance at him.
"Somewhere you wouldn't want to be. And if you ended up there, you wouldn't come back. Don't ask for details."
Alex bit his lip. He knew that was all the answer he'd get. Still, his eyes kept tracking her precise movements. A growing jealousy stirred in him — she had such control over her body.
"Could you teach me?" he asked suddenly.
The elf paused mid-motion.
"You want to learn how to fight? You have more in you than just questions?"
"I do."
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
"Good. Let's start with the basics."
She showed him a defensive stance — knees slightly bent, hands raised in front. Every movement she made was deliberate and flawless. She corrected his posture with strict precision. Her touch was firm and confident.
After two hours, Lyra said:
"Let's try something else. A spar. I want to see how fast you learn."
Alex took position in front of her, doing his best to replicate the stance she'd just taught him.
The elf attacked without warning. She grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm, hooked her leg behind his, and threw him to the ground. In an instant, she was on top of him, straddling him unceremoniously. Her thighs clamped around his hips, and her butt landed squarely on his crotch. She sat on him, twisting his arm. He felt the warmth of her skin, the softness of her body now unexpectedly close. Her breasts strained against the fabric of her tight tunic, looking as if they might burst through at any second, her hardened nipples clearly visible through the thin cloth. Their faces were only inches apart.
He froze, breathing heavily, his heart pounding like mad. And in his pants, something stiffened. He looked into her eyes, then lower. She noticed. A mischievous smirk played at the corner of her lips.
"Focus on the fight, not on my tits," she murmured with amused annoyance. "Or you'll always lose."
She slid off him and resumed her ready stance.
"Again. And this time, try not to hit the ground right away."
Alex got up with effort, his face burning with shame — and a strange, nervous excitement from that brief closeness. The elf stood ready again, motioning for him to do the same.
Alex nodded, forcing himself to concentrate. He knew he had a long road ahead to master what Lyra was trying to teach him — but he was ready to face it. Not just to survive, but to one day stand beside her as an equal.
The elf struck again, just as fast and decisive as before. And once again, Alex didn't stay on his feet for long. He hit the ground just like last time, pinned beneath her body.
As their eyes met, he saw something different in hers — not just the sternness of a teacher, but something warmer. Maybe curiosity, maybe a flicker of fascination he couldn't quite name yet.
A/N: If you'd like to see a chapter focused on the place where Lyra fights, let me know in the comments! I can create a side chapter centered around the slave fights and the brutal world behind them.