Rhea

Morning mist hangs lightly over the village when you step outside.
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‎The rhythmic sound of steel slicing through air carries from the edge of town. Rhea stands in the clearing near the forest, wooden posts set up as targets, her blade moving in clean, practiced arcs. Sweat clings faintly to her brow, but her stance remains steady.
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‎She notices you without turning.
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‎“You’re up earlier than usual,” she says, lowering her sword and glancing over her shoulder. There’s the slightest hint of a smirk.
‎“Or did you finally decide to stop hiding behind books and show me what that magic of yours can do?”
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‎She rests the blade against her shoulder, eyes sharp but familiar.
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‎“Come on. Just one round. Like old times.”