The morning light filtered through the dense canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows across the forest floor. Arin awoke slowly, the weight of the sword at his side a constant reminder of the path he had chosen. The events of the previous days still swirled in his mind—Master Kael's arrival, the prophecy, and the lingering doubt that seemed to gnaw at him whenever he let his thoughts wander.
As he sat up and stretched, Arin noticed that Kael was already awake, sitting on a fallen log a few feet away, deep in thought. The fire from the night before had long since burned out, leaving only a few wisps of smoke curling into the morning air. Kael seemed to sense that Arin was awake and turned to look at him with a calm, steady gaze.
"Today, we begin your training," Kael said simply, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "The road ahead will not wait for you to be ready, but we will do our best to prepare."
Arin blinked the sleep from his eyes and nodded, though his heart quickened with both anticipation and fear. He had never been trained in anything beyond basic farm chores and working with his hands. The idea of learning to wield a sword, especially one as powerful as the Dragon Knight's relic, was both exciting and terrifying.
Kael stood and motioned for Arin to follow him to a nearby clearing. The air was crisp, and the morning sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest. As they reached the center of the clearing, Kael gestured for Arin to unsheathe the sword.
"Let's begin with something simple," Kael said, his tone instructional but not harsh. "Show me how you hold the blade."
Arin pulled the sword from its sheath, the metal glinting in the morning light. He gripped the hilt tightly, his knuckles turning white. The sword felt foreign in his hands, awkward and unbalanced, though he knew its power ran deep beneath the surface.
Kael studied Arin's posture for a moment before stepping closer and adjusting his grip. "Loosen your hands slightly. Too tight, and you'll lose the flexibility you need. The sword is not your enemy; it's an extension of yourself. Let it move with you."
Arin nodded, easing his grip as Kael had instructed. The sword suddenly felt lighter, as though it had been waiting for him to understand its nature.
"Good," Kael said with approval. "Now, remember that this is not about brute strength. A warrior is not defined by the force of his strikes, but by his control, his balance. Let your body guide the blade, and the blade will respond."
For the next hour, Kael led Arin through a series of basic movements—footwork, stances, and how to maintain balance while wielding the sword. At first, Arin's movements were clumsy, his feet stumbling and his arms unsure. But as the lesson progressed, he found himself falling into a rhythm. The more he moved, the more he began to understand the weight of the sword and the way it responded to his body's commands.
Still, his mind wandered. Could this really be enough? Would mastering these simple movements prepare him for what was coming? The shadowling that had attacked them had been swift and deadly—far beyond anything he had encountered before.
Kael seemed to sense his thoughts, for he called a halt to their practice and approached Arin with a knowing look. "You are thinking too much about the future," Kael said softly. "Training is not just about mastering the body. It's about mastering the mind. In battle, your thoughts must be clear, focused. Fear and doubt cloud the mind and weaken the sword. You must learn to let them go."
Arin exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. "I'm just… I'm not sure I can do this. It's all happening so fast."
Kael rested a hand on Arin's shoulder. "Doubt is normal, Arin. Even the greatest warriors began their journeys uncertain of their path. But the more you train, the more you understand yourself and your abilities, the clearer your path will become."
Arin nodded, trying to absorb Kael's words. He wanted to believe them—to believe that he could grow into the warrior the prophecy needed him to be. But the uncertainty still lingered, an ever-present shadow over his thoughts.
They resumed training, and as the sun climbed higher in the sky, Arin began to feel his body tiring. The weight of the sword, the constant movements, and the strain of trying to focus wore on him, but he pushed through, determined to prove that he wasn't just some farm boy playing with a sword.
By midday, Kael called for a break, and the two of them sat beneath a tree, sharing a simple meal of bread and water. Arin's muscles ached, but there was a quiet sense of satisfaction in the exhaustion—he had made it through the morning without giving up.
"You're learning quickly," Kael said as they ate. "The sword recognizes your effort. Keep at it, and you will soon feel the connection grow stronger."
Arin glanced at the sword, which lay beside him on the grass. There was something strange about it, as if it were alive in some way—waiting for him to fully understand its purpose. "The connection… you said the sword chooses its wielder. How does that work?"
Kael wiped his hands on his cloak and turned to Arin, his eyes thoughtful. "The weapons of the Dragon Knights were forged not only from steel and magic but from the will of those who wielded them. These swords are more than mere tools—they are bound to the soul of the warrior. When the sword chose you, it was because it recognized something in you. A potential. A strength."
Arin felt a lump form in his throat. "But what if the sword made a mistake? What if I'm not who it thinks I am?"
Kael smiled faintly. "The sword does not make mistakes, Arin. It sees what you cannot yet see in yourself. You may not feel ready now, but in time, you will grow into the role the sword has chosen for you."
Arin looked down at his hands, dirt-streaked and trembling from the morning's training. It was hard to imagine himself as a warrior—someone capable of wielding such power, of standing against the darkness. But there was something in Kael's words that resonated with him. Perhaps, just perhaps, the sword had seen something he hadn't yet discovered.
As they finished their meal, Kael stood and stretched, motioning for Arin to do the same. "Come. We have more work to do before the day is over."
They resumed their training, moving through more complex patterns and techniques. Kael demonstrated each move with precision, his body flowing with the grace of someone who had been fighting his entire life. Arin struggled to keep up, but each time he stumbled or made a mistake, Kael patiently corrected him, pushing him to do better without harshness.
By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest, Arin was drenched in sweat and his muscles burned with exhaustion. But there was a sense of progress—a feeling that, slowly but surely, he was beginning to understand what it meant to wield the sword.
As they packed up their belongings and prepared to settle in for the night, Kael spoke once more. "Tomorrow, we will continue your training. But soon, we will need to move beyond these woods. There are places we must visit, allies we must find."
Arin nodded, his mind already turning to the future. There was still so much he didn't know, so much he hadn't yet experienced. But for the first time since the journey had begun, he felt a small flicker of hope. Perhaps he could do this after all.
That night, as the stars began to emerge in the sky above, Arin lay awake beneath the trees, the sword resting by his side. The weight of destiny was still heavy, but he felt a little lighter now. The journey was just beginning, and though the road ahead was filled with uncertainty, Arin knew he had taken his first real step toward becoming the warrior he was meant to be.
Whatever lay ahead, he would face it. He had no choice. The prophecy had chosen him, and now, he had to choose to rise to meet it.