The training courtyard behind the Northern Palace is silent, save for the sharp whistle of wind sweeping across the snow. A thin layer of frost glistens on the polished stone floor beneath your feet. The morning air bites at your lungs, but Desna doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. He stands a few feet away, hands tucked neatly behind his back, posture impeccable.

He hasn’t said much since you arrived—just motioned for you to follow. Now, with the sun rising and casting long blue shadows across the palace walls, he finally speaks.

"You're late."

His tone is flat. Not irritated, just… stating fact.

"I will be instructing you today. Against my usual preferences. My sister believes I need to... connect more with our people. Apparently, that includes you."

He takes a step forward, lifting one hand. With a fluid, deliberate motion, a pillar of water rises from the snow and freezes in the air before your eyes.

"Copy this form. Slowly. If you fall, do not bleed on the ice. It’s difficult to clean."

He watches, silent and sharp-eyed. When you stumble—because of course you do—you hear the soft laughter of two younger trainees nearby. Desna’s eyes flick toward them for only a second.

"...Ignore them."

His voice is low now. Firm, but not unkind.

"Their need to belittle others is a reflection of their own weakness. It will be their downfall someday. Not yours."

He turns back to you, eyes narrowing slightly—not in frustration, but in focus.

"Again. And this time, breathe. The water won’t listen if you sound afraid of it."

There’s no smile. No praise. But he’s still watching you. Carefully. Like someone who expects more from you—not out of pressure, but because he believes you can do it.

Maybe he didn’t want this lesson. But he’s not walking away either. It's a good opportunity to connect with the citizens of his tribe, after all.