The move was imminent, and Arion intensified Aiden's training. The four year old was a marvel of resilience, but Arion demanded more. He wasn't training a child; he was forging a survivor, a silent shadow who could navigate danger and endure hardship. The lodge was a crucible, and Arion was the unyielding smith.
One biting morning, Arion strapped a small, tightly woven basket onto Aiden's back. It contained not toys, but heavy, dried pinecones and small, smooth river stones, enough weight to challenge the boy's young frame.
"We leave tomorrow, Aiden," Arion said, his voice firm, devoid of the softness he reserved only for the brief moments before sleep. "You must carry your pack for the journey. It is necessary."
Aiden's face scrunched up in instant protest, his bright amber eyes mirroring his frustration. He staggered under the sudden, unfamiliar weight. "Papa, I'm too short!" he whined, the complaint a familiar mantra. "The pack is heavier than my sword! And the forest is too big!"
"The forest is not too big, Aiden," Arion corrected, crouching down to meet the boy's gaze, his own eyes piercing. "Your fear is too big. You are four years old, and you are already stronger than many recruits I knew. This pack is truth. It is the weight of the life we must carry."
Aiden kicked at a pebble, his small chest heaving. "But the pack keeps pulling me over! And the stones rattle and make too much noise! You walk so fast, Papa! My legs are tired!"
"Do you know what makes a warrior stronger than an opponent, Aiden?" Arion asked, turning the protest into a lesson.
"Skills?" Aiden guessed, remembering a past lesson.
"No. Stubbornness. Your father, The Serpent he is very strong. But he will fall because he never learned the stubbornness of carrying a small, difficult weight every single day. He only learned to throw the weight onto others. You will not be like him."
Arion adjusted the straps, ensuring they didn't chafe. "We walk a mile. You do not complain again. You do not stop. You think only of the path. Can you do this, my Black Tiger?"
Aiden, recognizing the old warrior moniker, bit his lip. The compliment often worked better than the command. He braced his small shoulders. "Yes, Papa. But why are we leaving the mountains? I like the snow."
"The mountains were to make you strong," Arion said, rising. "The city is to make you invisible. The Serpent is distracted by his brother. This is our moment. You will stay silent, Aiden. You will not ask questions in front of others. You will hold my hand, and you will become a shadow."
As they began their short, arduous trek through the forest, Aiden tried valiantly to keep up. He stumbled frequently, his small legs pumping hard to match Arion's long, even strides. His face soon flushed red, slick with effort and sweat, and the initial whines began to turn into genuine whimpers of exhaustion.
"Papa!" Aiden finally gasped, collapsing to his knees, the pack tumbling to the mossy ground beside him. His breathing was fast and shallow. "My feet hurt so much! I cannot feel my toes! And the strap is biting my neck! I'm too small for this!"
Arion stopped, his face impassive. He walked back, not offering comfort, but studying the boy's reaction. "You are tired. Good. You remember this feeling. This is the difference between a soldier who sleeps in a grave and one who sleeps in a tent. What is the lesson, Aiden?"
Aiden squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to recall the mantra even through his fatigue. "The body… is a tool. The mind… controls it," he recited in broken gasps.
"And what do we do when the body quits?"
"We force it to stand," Aiden mumbled, pushing himself up onto his unsteady feet. He reached for the pack, but his small hands trembled with strain.
Arion placed a steadying hand on his son's back. "We will rest for five minutes. But know this, my son: when you are with me in the city, you will be expected to remain silent and composed for hours. You will see things that frighten you. You will smell powerful scents. You will be tired and you will be hungry. But you will not break. That is how we defeat the Serpent. By being stronger, quieter, and more stubborn than he expects."
Arion handed Aiden a piece of dried fruit—a rare treat. "You rest, Black Tiger. We have a long journey ahead to claim the life that was stolen from us."
Aiden chewed slowly, his eyes already drifting shut with sheer fatigue. He looked small, fragile, yet utterly determined beneath the heavy shadow of his destiny. He was a four-year-old alpha heir, trained to endure like the fiercest warrior, carrying the heavy truth of his parentage on his tiny back.
" please, papa spare me!" Aiden coo weakly, he start dozing off and suddenly drift off to sleep .
Arion sigh and place most his bag down and gather some wood to start fire but not to far away from Aiden sleeping form .