In a secluded part of the forest, hidden away from the prying eyes of the village, a group of five boys gathered under the dense canopy of ancient trees. Their faces were twisted in expressions of envy and bitterness as they huddled together, whispering conspiratorially.
"I can't believe it," muttered Jareth, the oldest and most resentful of the group. His brow furrowed deeply, and his voice carried a weight of frustration that resonated with the others. "Elandor, that useless fool, now he's becoming something more? It's not fair!"
"He was always below us," sneered Darius, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring off into the distance as if trying to ignore the reality that Elandor had surpassed them. "We were at least adept enough to attempt the trials. But him? He was too pathetic even for that."
