Chapter 17

  Fiora stirred awake to the soft chirping of birds in the distance. Blinking against the morning light streaming through the window, she sat up and stretched, her muscles still weary from the previous day’s journey. She glanced instinctively toward Eldric’s spot, expecting to see his familiar sleeping form. Instead, she was met with emptiness.

  Her brow furrowed. Strange... I’m always up before him. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and prepared to stand when something on the bedside table caught her eye. A neatly folded piece of parchment rested atop the wooden surface, its edges weighed down by a gleaming green pendant.

  Curiosity and unease prickled at her as she leaned forward, carefully picking up the paper. The pendant, no longer secured by the folds, slipped from its perch with a metallic clank, landing softly on the table. Fiora paused, her eyes drawn to the jewel. The pendant shimmered an unnatural green, almost alive with its faint, pulsating glow.

  She picked it up, holding it between her fingers. The smooth surface felt cool against her skin, and she couldn’t help but twirl it around, mesmerized by the jewel’s peculiar, vibrant hue. A pang of unease settled in her chest.

  Snapping herself back to reality, Fiora set the pendant down and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes scanned the page, immediately recognizing Eldric’s familiar, slightly messy handwriting. Her stomach twisted as she began to read.

  Fiora,

  I have left to go off somewhere far away. There, I will train so I can become strong. Strong enough to protect you. I promised to stay with you, but you are in danger as long as I am there. If you died because of me, I would never forgive myself. You will not be able to find me, so just keep fighting, and I will see you soon.

  Yours truly,

  Eldric

  Fiora’s hands trembled as she reached the end of the note. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell upon a second, smaller note tucked beneath the first. The handwriting on this one was unfamiliar, the letters elegant and precise.

  This pendant is tied to Eldric’s soul. For as long as his heart beats, it will glow green.

  Fiora froze, her fingers tightening around the parchment. The weight of Eldric’s departure hit her all at once, and tears pricked at her eyes. Her emotions, a storm of anger, sorrow, and betrayal, bubbled to the surface.

  “That idiot!” she yelled, her voice breaking. She crushed the note in her fist, her knuckles turning white. “I can’t believe he left me!”

  Her tears fell freely now, streaking down her cheeks as her chest heaved with emotion. She grabbed the pendant and clenched it tightly,

  With a deep, shuddering breath, Fiora yanks her bedroom door open and storms out. Her steps are loud and deliberate, each one echoing in the small cabin. Everyone else is already awake, packing their belongings in the common area. At the sound of the door slamming shut behind her, they all pause and look up, startled.

  “Alicia, Morrigan—I need to talk to you. Now,” Fiora demands, her tone sharp and brooking no argument. Without waiting for a response, she marches outside, the morning light catching in her fiery hair as she strides toward the clearing.

  Alicia and Morrigan exchange uneasy glances. Setting down their gear, they follow her without a word, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

  Nyssa, caught off guard by Fiora’s sudden outburst, watches them leave. Curiosity tugs at her, and she quietly rises to follow. Staying just out of sight, she trails them to the edge of the clearing and hides behind a tree to eavesdrop.

  Fiora leads Alicia and Morrigan a fair distance from the cabin before stopping abruptly. She spins around, her movements sharp and brimming with frustration. Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment and thrusts it at Alicia.

  “Here, read this!” she snaps, her voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

  Alicia raises an eyebrow but takes the note without protest. Her expression shifts as she scans the writing—first confusion, then worry, and finally something close to resignation. When she finishes, she passes it to Morrigan.

  Morrigan’s reaction is immediate. “This is bad,” she says grimly. “If Eldric is truly out there alone, it complicates everything. He’s vulnerable.”

  Fiora’s fists tighten at her sides, her knuckles white. “It doesn’t add up,” she says, her voice shaking with frustration. “Eldric wouldn’t just leave without saying anything. And that second note, the one about the pendant, feels off. Whoever wrote it knows more than they’re letting on.”

  Hidden behind the tree, Nyssa’s heart races. Eldric left? What? Her mind reels, trying to process what she’s hearing. Why would he leave us? Leave me?

  Alicia sighs and folds her arms, her gaze distant as she chooses her words carefully. “Honestly, Fiora, he might have been right to leave,” she says at last. “As long as he was here, he was a target, for Syra, for Eira, for anyone looking to exploit him. If he’s gone, it buys us time.”

  Fiora’s glare sharpens. “Buys us time for what? To lose him forever? Do you even care that he’s out there, alone, with no idea what he’s walking into?”

  Morrigan hands the note back to Fiora, her tone steady but firm. “I get it, you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But Alicia’s right. If Eldric is serious about finding answers and becoming stronger, his leaving might be the best thing for everyone. At least for now.”

  “That’s easy for you to say!” Fiora snaps, her voice rising. “You don’t care about him like I do. If something happens to him—” Her voice cracks, and she looks away, fighting back tears.

  “Fiora,” Alicia says gently, stepping closer. “We all care about him. But we can’t afford to lose focus right now. Refugees are coming to Valifield. We have to be ready for them. If Eldric’s absence gives us the chance to regroup and plan, we have to use it.”

  Fiora shakes her head, tears streaming freely now. “You don’t understand. I can’t just sit here while he’s out there, risking his life. I have to find him.”

  Alicia places a hand on her shoulder, her voice calm but unyielding. “We’ll figure this out, Fiora. But right now, Valifield needs to be our priority. If Eldric is truly searching for answers, he’ll come back to us when he’s ready.”

  Behind the tree, Nyssa clenches her fists, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion, anger, and hurt. Why didn’t he tell me? she wonders, her heart aching at the thought of Eldric leaving without a word.

  “Have you two lost it?” Fiora shrieks, her voice cracking with frustration. “We have to go after him right now! Lord Jamdak ordered you to keep him safe!”

  “Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t be able to find him,” Alicia replies, her tone calm but laced with sympathy.

  Fiora stares at them, her shoulders sagging in defeat. Her mind races for a solution, and then suddenly, it hits her. Her fingers instinctively clutch the glowing green pendant hanging from her neck. She straightens, a flicker of hope lighting her eyes. “The note said this pendant is tied to his soul,” she blurts. “That means it has to be leaving some kind of magical trail, a trace he couldn’t possibly cover up!”

  Alicia’s expression shifts, her interest piqued. “It’s possible,” she says thoughtfully, holding out her hand. Fiora wastes no time unclasping the pendant and placing it in Alicia’s palm.

  Alicia furrows her brow, focusing her magic into the small trinket. A faint glow emanates from the pendant as her spell attempts to tease out any traceable signature. The silence stretches between them as Fiora watches with bated breath.

  Finally, Alicia lets out a soft sigh and shakes her head, returning the pendant to Fiora. “I’m sorry,” she says gently. “I couldn’t see anything. Whatever enchantment was placed on this is beyond my understanding.”

  Fiora’s face crumples with frustration and sorrow. She clutches the pendant tightly, as though trying to will it to guide her to Eldric. “Go back to the hut and pack,” Alicia says, her voice steady but firm. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

  Reluctantly, Fiora turns and begins trudging back toward the cabin, but her steps falter when Nyssa appears in her path.

  Morrigan glances at Alicia. “What did you see?” she asks quietly, her tone tinged with suspicion.

  Alicia hesitates before answering, lowering her voice so only Morrigan can hear. “He’s heading toward Dracnesse Mountain,” she says. Concern shadows her face. “There’s nothing we can do. The good news is, if he reaches the mountain, he should be safe—assuming the locals accept him.”

  Morrigan shudders at the thought. “That region is a frozen wasteland,” she mutters. “If he’s going there, it must be for the summit. That’s the only inhabited place in the area.”

  Alicia nods grimly. “Exactly. But we must keep this information from Fiora,” she warns. “If she knew, I have no doubt she’d vanish in the night to follow him.”

  Back on the path, Fiora crosses her arms as Nyssa steps closer. “What do you want?” she snaps, her irritation barely contained.

  Nyssa studies Fiora’s face for a moment before speaking. “Did I hear right? Eldric’s really gone? He spent the night with you, and then he just… left?”

  Fiora stiffens, her jaw tightening at the accusation. “What does it matter to you?” she retorts, her voice sharp but brittle.

  Nyssa’s gaze softens, a flicker of sadness in her eyes. “It matters because he’s my friend too,” she says quietly. “And I don’t understand why he didn’t say anything.”

  Fiora scoffed, attempting to push past, but Nyssa blocked her with a firm outstretched arm. “He left you that letter?” Nyssa asked, her voice sharp as she pointed to the crumpled parchment clenched in Fiora’s fist.

  “It’s none of your concern,” Fiora hissed, her tone cold and clipped. “Just go away.”

  Nyssa’s eyes narrowed, but her voice wavered as she spoke. “I see.” She sneered, though the expression faltered as her true feelings broke through. “He didn’t bother to write me a note… or stay with me...” Her words trailed off, splintered by emotion. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Of course, it was going to be you…” she whispered, staring at the ground, her shoulders slumping.

  Fiora surveyed Nyssa, a flicker of sympathy stirring somewhere deep within her. For the briefest moment, she felt a pang of guilt, but she quickly forced it aside. Shaking off the feeling, she straightened and said curtly, “Come on. Get your stuff, and let’s go.”

  Without another word, they walked in silence back toward the hut.

  As they approached, Rendrick stepped outside. His eyes widened as he saw Nyssa’s tear-streaked face. Concerned, he rushed over, brushing past Fiora as though she weren’t there. Fiora didn’t stop walking. She kept her head high, though her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Reaching the door, she paused briefly and glanced over her shoulder. Rendrick was already murmuring words of comfort to Nyssa, his hand resting gently on her shoulder.

  “When I see Eldric, I’m going to beat him to a pulp,” Fiora muttered under her breath, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

  Once everyone was packed and ready to depart, Fiora gathered their attention with a sharp wave. “This way!” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

  The group trudged along in silence, their mood as heavy as the overcast sky above. The woods gradually gave way to an open, grassy field at the edge of the forest. As they stepped into the clearing, Fiora caught sight of a familiar silhouette in the distance—a small village nestled against the rolling hills.

  Home. The word whispered in her mind, carrying an odd mixture of relief and sadness.

  As they drew closer, Fiora’s eyes widened in astonishment. The village was still standing, mostly intact. Though the farm fields were overgrown with weeds and wildflowers, they remained fertile, untouched by war. Most of the homes stood strong, save for a few with blackened siding or missing shingles.

  Her gaze drifted toward the hilltop where Eldric’s house had once been. Her heart clenched as she saw the charred remains—a blackened frame, skeletal and forlorn against the backdrop of the blue sky.

  Leaving the others to explore on their own, Fiora mounted the narrow path leading to the ruins of the house. The wind whispered softly through the tall grass as she climbed. The least I can do is bury their remains. The thought drove her forward, a somber determination settling over her.

  When she reached the pile of rubble, she sank to her knees, her hands trembling slightly as she began to sift through the ashes. Carefully, she shifted the debris, searching for even the smallest trace—a bone, a trinket, something to confirm her mother’s presence.

  The minutes stretched into nearly an hour. Piece by piece, she sifted through every last fragment, but the ruins yielded nothing.

  How can this be? she wondered, her heart pounding. There should at least be some trace of them.

  Frustration bubbled over, and with an angry cry, she threw her hands into the air. Dust and soot scattered around her, staining her hands and arms. Gritting her teeth, she resolved to search once more, determined not to leave until she found something. Anything.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  She had barely begun her second search when a voice called out to her from the village below. Startled, she froze, then quickly stood and dusted herself off. With one last glance at the ruins, she turned and made her way back toward the others, her chest tight with unspoken grief.

  ****

  Eldric pressed on toward Dracnesse Mountain, his steps determined despite the growing ache in his legs. The terrain grew more rugged with every mile, but he refused to slow his pace. He carried only his sword, its weight a familiar comfort, and the few supplies he had managed to scrounge together before leaving. Occasionally, he stopped to pluck handfuls of berries from bushes along the trail, the tart sweetness providing fleeting energy. Beyond these brief pauses, he walked relentlessly, the events of the past day spurring him forward without rest.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in a golden hue, Eldric finally reached the base of the mountain. He gazed upward, his breath catching as he spotted a peculiar sight near the summit. The rocky peaks were veiled in a shimmering white blanket that glowed faintly under the fading light. What could cause such a strange effect? he wondered, a mixture of awe and curiosity tugging at his thoughts.

  The climb began steadily, but as hours passed, his pace slowed. Each step grew heavier, the mountain’s steep incline testing his stamina. The air became sharper, cooler, nipping at his exposed skin. By the time he approached the white expanse he had seen from below, his limbs trembled, both from exertion and the biting cold that seeped into his bones.

  When his boots finally crunched against the surface of the mysterious white substance, a sharp chill raced up his legs. Eldric bent down, scooping up a handful of the powdery material. At once, searing pain shot through his fingers, a biting freeze unlike anything he had ever felt. He gritted his teeth against the agony, determined to understand this strange material. Slowly, the powder melted in his palm, transforming into droplets of water that trickled down his wrist.

  “What the heck is this?” he muttered to himself, his breath fogging in the cold air.

  “I see you’ve discovered snow,” a deep voice called out behind him.

  Eldric sprang to his feet, his heart racing as he spun around. Standing a short distance away was an older man draped in a thick red cloak, the fabric billowing slightly in the icy wind. His silver hair spilled out from beneath a hood, and his piercing gray eyes seemed to see straight through Eldric.

  The stranger raised a gloved hand to forestall any questions. “If you stay out here much longer, you’ll freeze,” he said, his voice as firm and unyielding as the mountain itself. “Come with me, child.”

  Without waiting for a reply, the man turned and began marching toward the summit, his boots crunching methodically in the snow. Eldric hesitated for only a moment before following, his instincts urging him to trust the stranger.

  As they rounded a sharp bend in the path, Eldric’s eyes were drawn to something peculiar jutting out from the snowy wasteland. A polished black stone, smooth and glinting faintly under the moonlight, stood stark against its frosty surroundings. It was pristine, untouched by the snow that blanketed everything else.

  A strange sensation rippled through Eldric’s body, as though the stone itself were calling to him. Without thinking, he veered off the path, his steps crunching heavily in the snow. Dropping to his knees before the monolith, he traced his fingers over the surface. The stone was warm to the touch, its smoothness unnerving. Eldric’s eyes widen as reads words written on the stone.

  Having noticed Eldric’s detour, the old man in the red cloak approached, his boots crunching softly in the snow. He knelt beside Eldric, his movements slow and deliberate, the weight of years evident in his posture. Placing a gloved hand gently on the stone, the man exhaled deeply, his breath misting in the cold air.

  “It is a message,” he began, his voice quiet but resonant, “a warning, if you will. Some say it is not merely a relic of the past but a glimpse into the future. And not just any future—one that is constantly in flux. The message changes whenever something occurs that permanently alters the path of destiny.”

  Eldric read the inscription again, the words etched into the polished surface with unnerving precision:

  The future’s end; he will awaken – Drakemoor.

  “What does it mean?” Eldric asked, pointing to the mysterious engraving.

  The old man’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he continued. “Many travelers have come here, drawn by the stone’s enigmatic allure. Scholars, wizards, even common folk have tried to decipher its meaning. Most leave with nothing more than frustration. Some, however…” He hesitated, his expression darkening. “Some are driven to madness, their obsession with the stone consuming them entirely.”

  He shifted his weight and blew into his cupped hands to warm them before speaking again. “Yet, there are three who are said to have unlocked some of its secrets. A black-cloaked wizard, a white-cloaked wizard, and Lord Jamdak. In fact,” he added, his voice tinged with curiosity, “Lord Jamdak himself was here not more than a day ago. He arrived in a puff of smoke, glanced down at the stone, and vanished just as suddenly.”

  Eldric’s eyes widened. “Jamdak was here?”

  The man nodded. “He comes here often. As I mentioned, the message on this stone changes from time to time. And when it does, the two cloaked wizards appear without fail. It’s as though they are waiting for a particular message to manifest.”

  Eldric tore his gaze from the inscription to look at the man. “Do you have any idea what they’re waiting for? Or what they’re trying to do?”

  The man rose slowly to his feet, brushing snow from his knees. “If I were to guess, they are trying to prevent something. Something catastrophic.” He paused, casting a lingering look at the stone. “But what exactly that is, I do not know.”

  Eldric’s thoughts churned as he considered the words. Finally, his eyes fell back to the last line of the inscription: Drakemoor.

  “Why does it end with that name?” Eldric asked, his voice quieter now. “Drakemoor. That’s my last name.” He glanced at the old man, his chest tightening with unease. “Do you think it’s referring to me?”

  “Curious,” the old man murmured, his fingers tracing the inscription on the polished stone. His blue eyes gleamed with thought as he straightened, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps, if something truly dire is on the horizon, you might have a role to play in preventing it.”

  He turned sharply, his cloak billowing in the icy wind, and pointed toward the summit looming above. “Eldric, there is someone waiting at the peak—someone who seems out of place in this world. If you truly believe you can help, follow me. There is much to discuss.”

  Eldric hesitated, glancing once more at the enigmatic inscription. Out of the corner of his eye, the message seemed to shimmer, the letters rearranging themselves. His breath caught as he read a single name: Fiora.

  He blinked, and the original words returned: The future’s end; he will awaken – Drakemoor.

  Was he imagining things? Shaking his head, he turned to find the old man already several yards ahead, his figure a shadow against the snowstorm’s backdrop. Frigid air bit at his exposed skin as Eldric sprinted to catch up, the snow crunching beneath his boots.

  The ascent grew more grueling as harsh winds screamed through the jagged peaks, stinging his face and coating his lashes with ice. Each step felt heavier than the last, his legs trembling under the strain. Just as despair threatened to set in, a faint yellow glow appeared on the horizon.

  It was no more than twenty yards ahead, a soft beacon in the endless expanse of white. As they approached, the outline of a grand stone mansion came into focus. The structure stood defiant against the elements, its warmly lit windows stretching along the fa?ade like a promise of sanctuary.

  Stepping inside, Eldric was immediately enveloped by a comforting warmth. The scent of fresh parchment and aged wood mingled in the air. Towering shelves crammed with books lined the entrance hall, the glow of wall-mounted torches casting flickering shadows across the room.

  The old man led Eldric to the right, into a sprawling great room that radiated both elegance and knowledge. More shelves brimming with ancient tomes filled the walls. At the far end of the room, a massive brick hearth housed a roaring fire, its golden flames casting a dancing light over a group of men deeply engrossed in their studies. They sat in silence, their faces illuminated by the fire’s glow, their noses buried in weathered books.

  Above them hung a grand chandelier, its dozens of candles illuminating the space with surprising brilliance.

  Eldric’s gaze wandered, drinking in the scene. Yet, amidst the warmth and order of the room, one figure stood out. In the far corner, opposite the fire’s glow, sat a young woman dressed in dark clothing. Her striking red hair blazed like a torch in the dim light, her posture exuding both tension and confidence.

  The old man approached a rack of weapons, selecting a sword before beckoning the girl to join them. She rose without hesitation, her crimson hair swaying as she moved. Eldric noted her sharp unyielding gaze.

  Together, they followed the man through a maze of corridors, up a spiral staircase, and out onto a stone courtyard. The biting wind greeted them once more, though the view of the snow-covered peaks under the moonlight was breathtaking.

  “My name is Seppel,” the man declared, his voice as sharp as the sword he unsheathed, “and you are Eldric, correct?”

  “That is correct,” Eldric replied hesitantly, his gaze darting around the glass-roofed courtyard. The space bore a striking resemblance to the one in Aldcliff, but here, a ceiling of glass skylights stretched above, letting in dim light that fought valiantly against the encroaching chill. Beneath his boots, lush green grass thrived, defying the icy world outside.

  The young woman who had followed them from the mansion silently crossed to a far corner. She sat on the ground with her knees drawn up, her piercing gaze fixed on Eldric. She didn’t utter a word, her presence as unsettling as it was intriguing.

  “Well then,” Seppel announced, unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion. Its metallic gleam caught the faint light, making it seem more menacing. “Let’s begin.”

  “Begin what?” Eldric asked, his voice laced with apprehension.

  Seppel flung off his cloak, revealing his imposing frame. His muscular build seemed almost unnatural for a man of his age, and the heavy leather armor resting on his shoulders only added to his terrifying presence.

  Eldric swallowed hard, the knot of fear in his stomach tightening. This man was easily the most intimidating elder he had ever encountered.

  “What do you mean, ‘let’s begin’?” Eldric protested, taking an instinctive step back. “I’ve just arrived! Can’t I at least rest—”

  His words were cut off as Seppel swung his sword with a sudden ferocity. Eldric barely managed to twist out of the way, feeling the rush of air as the blade missed him by inches.

  “There’s no time to rest,” Seppel growled, his voice like gravel. “You came here to train, and train you shall. Starting now.”

  Before Eldric could respond, Seppel lunged forward, his sword arcing through the air. Eldric twisted his body and dropped to the ground just in time to avoid the strike.

  A sharp, searing pain shot through Eldric’s back as something heavy struck him. He cried out, falling to his knees. Clutching his spine, he realized with relief that his sword’s sheath had absorbed most of the blow. Even so, he could feel warm blood oozing from where the attack had caught exposed skin.

  Gritting his teeth, Eldric forced himself to his feet and drew his blade. To his surprise, it began to glow with a radiant blue light.

  Good, he thought. If I can just get close enough, I might be able to slice his sword in half.

  Seppel leapt forward with startling speed, his sword descending in a powerful arc. Eldric swung his own blade upward in a desperate bid to defend himself, ready to meet the strike head-on.

  At the last second, Seppel’s sword erupted with its own brilliant blue glow. The two blades clashed with a thunderous explosion that reverberated through the courtyard, sending shockwaves rippling through the air.

  The sheer force of the impact knocked Eldric off balance, and he stumbled backward, nearly losing his footing. His ears rang from the deafening sound, his arms trembling from the shock.

  Seppel stood firm, his glowing blade steady as he stared Eldric down. “Not bad,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But you’ll need more than brute strength and luck if you’re going to survive what lies ahead.”

  Eldric steadied himself, tightening his grip on his sword. His pulse raced, but he refused to back down. “I’m not giving up,” he growled, his determination renewed.

  “Good,” Seppel said, nodding approvingly. “Then let’s continue.”

  Eldric steadies himself, his breathing heavy but his resolve unshaken. Sliding to his right, he readies his stance for another assault. I’ve had years of training, he reminds himself. He may be big like Rendrick, but I’m faster. I can win this.

  Locking eyes with Seppel, Eldric takes a deep breath. Seppel’s blade still pulses with a vibrant blue glow, the aura of power radiating from it intimidating yet strangely enticing. Gritting his teeth, Eldric charges, his sword raised and angled for a strike.

  With a swift, sideways motion, he swings for Seppel’s gut, the blade arcing through the air like a streak of lightning. Seppel reacts instantly, his own sword rising to meet the blow with a deafening clang. The force of the clash reverberates through Eldric’s arms, but he refuses to relent.

  Propelling himself forward, Eldric somersaults around Seppel, aiming to strike at his opponent’s unguarded back. The maneuver is fluid, almost flawless, but Seppel proves his equal in agility. He twists with startling speed, his blade meeting Eldric’s in a perfectly timed parry.

  How is he this fast? Eldric wonders, his frustration mounting.

  “Screw it!” Eldric shouts, the frustration pouring into his next swing. His sword comes down with all the force he can muster, aiming to overpower Seppel’s guard.

  The blades clash again, but this time something feels different. Eldric senses a strange lack of resistance, and a horrifying realization dawns on him as he watches in disbelief. Seppel’s blade slices cleanly through his, severing it in two.

  The top half of Eldric’s sword skitters across the ground, still glowing faintly blue as it comes to a stop several feet away.

  “What—?” Eldric begins, but he has no time to process what just happened. Seppel capitalizes on his hesitation, delivering a ferocious kick to Eldric’s chest. The impact sends him sprawling to the ground, the wind knocked from his lungs.

  “What just happened?” Eldric sputters, clutching at his chest as he struggles to rise. “My blade—it was supposed to be indestructible!”

  “You’re attempting to use the Aetherguard sword style,” Seppel replies, his tone sharp and unrelenting. “But you’re a novice—a reckless one at that. Worse still, you’re a novice wielding an inferior blade.”

  Eldric stares at the shattered remnants of his weapon, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I… I liked that sword…” he mutters under his breath.

  “Alright” Seppel snaps, his voice cold and commanding. “You’re going to need a proper weapon if you’re serious about training. Fortunately for you, we have a blacksmith here on the mountain. He’s been crafting blades for over fifty years, and I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to forge you something suitable.”

  Pausing, Seppel rubs his chin, his expression thoughtful. “Actually, we’ll have him make you two swords.”

  “Two?” Eldric asks, furrowing his brow. “Why would I need two? I’ve only ever used one.”

  “For someone like you, two blades would be far more practical,” Seppel explains. “The way you fight—aggressive and unrelenting—you need versatility. One sword for offense, one for defense. Besides…” He gestures to the shattered weapon on the ground. “The Aetherguard sword style was always meant to be wielded with dual blades.”

  Eldric processes the information, his initial frustration giving way to a spark of curiosity. “Dual blades…” he murmurs, glancing at the broken sword once more.

  “Come,” Seppel says, sheathing his weapon with a fluid motion. “We’ll see the blacksmith first thing tomorrow. For now, rest. You’ll need your strength for what’s to come.”

  Seppel stroked his chin thoughtfully, his piercing eyes distant as if examining some invisible blueprint. “Many who study the Aetherguard style eventually choose to use only one sword,” he began, his voice measured and deliberate. “The stamina required to effectively wield two blades is no small matter. But you…” His gaze flicked to Eldric, assessing him with a mix of challenge and expectation. “…you will learn. That is, after we address the pathetic state of your arms.”

  Eldric winced at the blunt critique but said nothing.

  Seppel began to pace, the heavy sound of his boots echoing across the stone courtyard. “The new swords we’ll have crafted for you will be shorter—about a foot shorter than your old blade—and several pounds lighter. The metal will be different too,” he mused, half to himself. “We’ll use a rare alloy that conducts magic far better than your previous weapon.”

  He stopped abruptly, his sharp gaze locking onto Eldric. “Come with me,” he ordered. “We’ll find a grip that suits you and have the blades started tonight. It will take about a month for them to be completed. In the meantime…” He smirked faintly. “…we’ll focus on rebuilding those scrawny arms of yours.”

  Eldric hesitated, then nodded. “All right. But I should warn you—I’m not exactly the fastest learner,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

  “You’ll learn fast,” Seppel said flatly, “or you’ll die.”

  Eldric froze. “Wait… What?”

  “I have no intentions of going easy on you,” Seppel continued, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “Fear is a powerful teacher, Eldric. You’ll never truly master the sword unless you’ve faced the genuine possibility of death. There’s no reason to learn to fight otherwise.”

  A chill ran down Eldric’s spine. I am so screwed, he thought, swallowing hard.

  Suddenly, something sparked in his memory, and his expression shifted from dread to excitement. “Seppel, there’s something else,” he blurted. “I have another ability—something rare, I think. When I’m grounded, and the situation is intense, I can foresee my opponent’s attacks. It’s like… like I get this brief window to react before they strike. But…” He frowned. “I’ve only managed to do it three times in my life. Can you help me? Teach me to control it?”

  Seppel turned to face him fully, his gaze narrowing as if reassessing the boy before him. “Providentia,” he said slowly, the weight of the word hanging in the air. “That’s what you’re describing. It’s an exceptionally rare bloodline trait.”

  Eldric’s breath caught. “You know about it?”

  Seppel nodded. “Yes, I do. And yes, I can train you in its use. But understand this—it’s not something you can summon at will. Providentia activates only in the heat of combat when your life is in genuine peril. It’s a tool of survival, not convenience.”

  Eldric’s face broke into a smile, relief flooding through him. “That works for me,” he said, his voice tinged with determination.

  “Good,” Seppel said, his lips curling into a small but approving smile. “Now, let’s go. There’s much to do, and no time to waste.”