Hollowdene Forest was silent in the morning. Mist hovered above the ground like a thin veil, muffling sound and stretching shadows across the clearing. Aldrich's small form crouched beside the fire, hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of his father's sword. It felt heavier than the previous day, but he had no thought to complain. Only determination.
Eldran, leaning on his single arm, surveyed the boy with a mixture of patience and steel. "Aldrich," he said, voice low and measured, "today begins the first lesson. Stand as a warrior, not a child. Every movement you make must serve a purpose."
Aldrich rose, eyes locked on Eldran. "Yes, Grand Elder."
"Good," Eldran nodded. He lifted a wooden practice blade from the ground, balancing it in his one hand with ease. "First: stance. Power begins in the feet. Strength flows from the ground, through your legs, and into your arms. Watch closely."
Aldrich mirrored the movement instinctively. His knees bent, back straight, shoulders squared. The sword rested in front of him, tip touching the earth, as though acknowledging the weight of his promise.
"Your father's sword is yours now," Eldran said, stepping closer. "But it is only as strong as the warrior who wields it. Learn to move before you swing. Learn to hold your ground before you strike. Weakness hides in motion and stillness alike."
The boy swallowed. "I understand."
"Good. Now, strike."
Aldrich lifted the sword slowly, concentrating on the arc of the blade, the alignment of his shoulders. Eldran moved beside him, guiding his elbow with his remaining hand. "Not like that. Watch—step forward as you swing, let your weight follow, not lead. Power is controlled, not wasted."
Aldrich adjusted, swinging again. This time, the blade cut through the air with a clear whistle. He felt the vibration in his arms, in his chest, in the soles of his feet. Eldran's eyes narrowed, approving but not lenient.
"Better. Again. And again. Until you can strike without thinking. Until your body moves before your mind even whispers."
Hours passed, the forest alive only with the rhythmic thud of sword against sword, foot against earth, and Aldrich's measured breaths. He stumbled, fell, rose again. Every swing carved his arms with fatigue, every stance burned through his legs, but Eldran did not relent.
"You think exhaustion will stop you?" Eldran said, his voice calm but commanding. "It will not. Your enemies will not wait for you to recover. You will either push forward… or die."
Aldrich wiped sweat from his brow, eyes gleaming. "I… will not stop."
The elder's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Good. Your voice carries the weight of your oath. Let your body carry it as well."
By noon, the boy's arms shook uncontrollably. Eldran lowered his blade, placing it across Aldrich's shoulders. "Now, footwork. The fastest strike is useless if you cannot stand. Move like the earth beneath you is alive, flowing, supporting every step."
Aldrich adjusted his stance. He shuffled, pivoted, lunged. The sword responded to him almost as if it remembered the hands that had forged it. Sweat stung his eyes, but he did not blink away the pain. Pain was the teacher Eldran had promised.
As the sun dipped behind the forest canopy, casting long shadows across the clearing, Eldran finally spoke. "Enough for today."
Aldrich dropped to one knee, exhausted, chest heaving. "Grand Elder… I… am I doing it right?"
"You are beginning. That is all you need today," Eldran replied, voice softening. "Tomorrow, we push further. Until you can strike a charging boar, a wolf, or a man… and not falter."
Aldrich looked down at the sword. He felt its weight not just in his hands but in his bones, in his promise, in the memory of his family. "I won't falter," he said, voice low but steady. "I will not fail."
Eldran's one hand rested briefly on the boy's shoulder. "Then rest. Tomorrow, Hollowdene will test more than your arms."
Aldrich nodded, finally allowing exhaustion to overtake him. But even as sleep beckoned, his grip on the sword never loosened. The first step in a long, bloody path had been taken—and already, he could feel the stirrings of a storm within him.