The port town of Baterilla was still waking when Robin slipped away from the bustle of the docks. The others had scattered, some to shop, others to explore, but she preferred the quiet paths that led inland. The morning air was crisp, scented faintly of citrus and salt, and the narrow trail carried her into a dense forest where sunlight fractured into gold between the leaves.

That was when she saw her.

A woman stood in a small clearing, moving with precise, deliberate strikes, each swing of her blade cutting the air with a practiced rhythm. Robin lingered in the shadow of an old cedar, her eyes narrowing as she studied the stranger’s stance. Something about her felt strangely familiar, though Robin could not place why.

She tilted her head, curiosity stirring beneath her usual calm. She did not approach, not yet. Instead, she watched in silence, letting the forest carry the sound of steel and breath to her ears, as if the answer to that flicker of recognition might reveal itself if she waited long enough.