Page 41 of Across the Stars (Cosmic Threads of Fate #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MAE

Mae followed Xarntu, Zylynx, and Xaynu to a large open training area behind the tree. The clearing was ringed by dense forest, giving it a secluded, almost sacred atmosphere where warriors could hone their skills without distraction.

At the center lay a wide pit used for duels and combat training. A dirt hill rose on one end, dotted with targets at varying heights and angles. Each target—crafted from wood, cloth, or vine—offered its own challenge in precision and force.

Training dummies stood along the edges, stuffed and bound in cloth and wood.

Their forms mimicked the shapes and movements of different creatures, presenting a realistic test of strikes and counters.

Built to endure heavy blows, they allowed warriors to push their limits without fear of injuring one another.

Farther along stretched a vine obstacle course, suspended high between the trees.

Ropes, bridges, balance beams, and wall climbs twisted together into a tangled network meant to test agility and endurance.

Its shifting vines demanded precision, speed, and courage, pushing each trainee to their absolute limits.

Mae took it all in—the clanging of weapons, the steady thud of arrows striking targets, and the spirited shouts of children echoing through the air. Groups of younglings clustered around their teachers, mimicking stances and practicing footwork.

It was beautiful. The next generation was being shaped here, molded into the protectors of their people. Mae’s chest tightened with pride and respect for the teachers who passed on their knowledge.

The entire area pulsed with energy, alive with growth and determination. Mae drew a deep breath, steadying herself. She was ready to begin her own journey—ready to prove she belonged.

They stopped near the training dummies. Xarntu and Zylynx turned with smiles, while Xaynu lingered nearby, already bouncing on his toes with excitement.

Mae’s heart skipped when Xarntu stepped toward her, holding out a black sheath.

She accepted it with both hands, awed by the craftsmanship. Smooth black leather, supple to the touch, was adorned with three beads that shimmered violet and fuchsia—the same hues that glowed in the towering weavetree’s leaves.

Drawing the weapon, Mae felt the dagger’s sharp edge catch the filtered sunlight.

The blade was jet black, perfectly balanced against its vine-wrapped handle, which seemed almost alive beneath her grip. It wasn’t her familiar psydagger, but it was lethal, elegant, and undeniably hers.

Overwhelmed, she looked up at Xarntu. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Xarntu’s smile was warm as she rested a hand on Mae’s shoulder. “Ayn’xen, Mae.”

Mae swallowed past the lump in her throat. She would cherish this gift forever. Watching Xaynu laugh with his mother, Mae realized this was more than just a weapon—it was a ritual, a teacher binding themselves to their student.

She thought of her own awkwardness with the tribe’s weapons. She’d embarrassed herself with the bow, fumbling with arrows. Spears worked better—especially for fishing—but they were nothing like her psydagger or her old psyblaster. Still, she wouldn’t let that hold her back.

Xarntu nodded, gesturing toward the dummies.

Mae met Xaynu’s eyes. He was already practicing, his dagger flashing through the air. That spark of camaraderie pushed her forward.

She stepped to the first dummy. Inhaling, she focused on her grip, on the imagined weight of responsibility. She pictured hunting, fighting, defending the tribe. Her strikes grew smoother, more certain, each cut finding its mark.

Moving from dummy to dummy, she felt herself transforming—confidence replacing hesitation, adrenaline singing in her veins. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t incapable. She would prove herself.

“Mae!” Xarntu’s voice rang out just as Mae severed the dummy’s vine tail.

Mae blinked out of her trance, chest heaving, pride swelling as she looked at her teacher. Xarntu’s jade eyes gleamed with approval.

Only then did Mae notice the crowd gathering. Warriors, teachers, children—all had stopped to watch. Their eyes tracked her, full of surprise and wonder. Heat flushed Mae’s cheeks, but she held her ground. She had earned this.

Then Xarntu drew her own dagger and gestured to Mae. A duel.

Mae’s pulse thundered. Her grip tightened. The crowd’s eyes weighed heavy, but she wouldn’t falter now.

Xarntu’s stance was effortless, her blade twirling like an extension of her body. Mae mirrored her, raising her dagger, legs braced.

They circled. Xarntu lunged first—swift, precise. Mae blocked, steel clashing with a sharp ring. Again Xarntu pressed, strikes flowing like water. Mae stumbled to keep up, her body sluggish after four years of fighting only target dummies in space.

But with each clash, something awoke. Her instincts sharpened, her timing improved. Confidence flared.

Cheers rose around them as the duel escalated, every strike and counter drawing the crowd closer. Mae surrendered to the rhythm, moving as if she’d been born to this.

At last they broke apart, both panting, blades raised. The duel ended in a draw.

The crowd erupted in applause, voices carrying praise and encouragement. Mae sheathed her dagger, trembling from exertion and exhilaration.

Without thinking, she lunged forward and hugged Xarntu. The older warrior stiffened, startled, but slowly relaxed, patting Mae’s back.

Mae’s throat burned with gratitude. This duel had been a gift, a sign of trust and respect she hadn’t known she craved.

When she finally pulled away, she met Xarntu’s gaze. Pride and amusement danced there, mirrored in Mae’s own wide smile.

But then Xarntu’s expression hardened. Her eyes flicked past Mae’s shoulder.

Mae turned. A group of warriors strode into the training grounds, led by a tall, imposing figure—Oekan. A dagger gleamed at his side, and a fierce hunger burned in his gaze.