Aric's feet carried him deeper into the forest, Lyra walking beside him with a quiet determination. He had expected nothing more than to continue their journey, perhaps discover new enemies, or explore the mysterious nature of this world. What he did not expect was this.
Ahead of them, standing on a raised stone platform in a small clearing, was a figure Aric instantly recognized—the same man who had left him in the woods all those days ago. The one whose name he still couldn't quite place. A surge of anger shot through him, but he quickly suppressed it.
The man stood there with his back to them, his posture relaxed but his stance too well-trained to ignore. The long, dark cloak he wore swirled around him in the light breeze. He had the same cold eyes, the same sharp features. He looked just as out of place here as he had when they first met.
But this time, Aric didn't feel the fear of the unknown. Instead, it was something more primal, a deep-rooted irritation that flared to life.
"You," Aric said through gritted teeth, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his sword. "What are you doing here?"
The man didn't turn around at first, his voice carrying a quiet authority. "Waiting for you."
Aric's eyes narrowed, every instinct screaming at him to walk away, but something kept him rooted to the spot. He looked at Lyra, who stood beside him, watching the exchange without any sign of hesitation or surprise.
"You knew he'd be here?" Aric's voice was laced with disbelief.
Lyra met his gaze and gave him a small, unreadable smile. "I arranged it."
Aric blinked, a flash of confusion clouding his features. "You—arranged it?" His hand, still gripping the hilt of his sword, twitched slightly, but he was careful to control it. "You've been keeping something from me."
"I did," she admitted, her voice steady. "But it was for your own good."
The man finally turned to face them, his piercing gaze landing on Aric with an intensity that made him stiffen. "It's a favor I owe Lyra. Nothing more. I didn't want to do this, but she insisted."
Lyra stepped forward, her voice steady as she looked at Aric. "Krael will be your teacher," she said, her words carrying a finality that left no room for protest.
Aric didn't know whether to be more infuriated by the fact that Lyra had kept such a crucial detail from him, or the fact that this stranger—who had abandoned him in the wilderness—was suddenly being thrust into his training.
"You've got a lot of nerve," Aric spat. "You left me out there to die and now you're the one teaching me?"
The man's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "Did you die?" he asked coolly, as though the question itself was beneath him. "Clearly not. Which means you didn't need my help to survive. You're still alive because you could handle it."
Aric clenched his jaw. The man wasn't wrong. He had survived. But it still burned him to think he had been left there, uncertain and vulnerable, only to be rescued by Lyra.
"You know I don't need any help from you," Aric growled.
Lyra, to his surprise, stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. Her touch was soft but firm. "You do, Aric. This is the only way forward."
The man raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for Aric's response.
A thousand thoughts ran through Aric's mind. His pride, his anger, the nagging questions about Lyra's true intentions. Why had she arranged this? What was her endgame?
But before he could voice any of his doubts, the man spoke again, his voice even colder than before. "You think you can just pick up a sword and wield it as you please? You want to continue with whatever you've been doing, charging into danger without understanding the consequences? Fine. Let's see how far that takes you."
Aric's fists clenched. "I've been doing fine without—"
"Without any discipline," the man interrupted, his voice sharper now. "Without any control. Do you think the enemies of this world will show mercy because you're strong? Do you think your strength will keep you alive forever? Or will you die by your own hand, like so many others before you?"
Aric's breath hitched as the man's words hit too close to home. A growing sense of unease gnawed at him. He wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders. For the first time, Aric realized just how much he didn't know.
Lyra watched the exchange silently, her expression unreadable.
"This isn't just about strength," the man continued, his voice softening. "It's about how you use it. You may have the power, but you lack the foundation. And that's where I come in. For now, anyway."
Aric felt the fire of his resistance flare within him. "I'm not interested in some—some lesson from you."
But deep down, he knew this was something he needed. He could feel it. If he truly wanted to survive this world, to face whatever was coming, he had to be more than what he was now.
He turned to Lyra, his frustration boiling over. "Is this what you want? To break me down into a weapon for your own purposes?"
Lyra's gaze softened, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "No. This isn't about me. It's about you. I'm giving you the chance to stand tall and face whatever future awaits you."
Aric hesitated, still seething with uncertainty and doubt. But he knew she wasn't wrong.
He turned back to the man, eyes narrowed. "Fine. Teach me then."
The man didn't smile or acknowledge the surrender. Instead, he simply gestured for Aric to step forward. "Alright, we will begin after we exit this forest."
Aric's brows furrowed, confused. "After we exit?" he asked, his mind racing. He had expected immediate lessons, immediate answers. But this was different. There was something almost deliberate in the man's choice to delay the training. Something that made Aric's gut tighten.
As they walked through the thickening woods, the shadows stretching longer under the setting sun, Aric couldn't stop the questions swirling in his mind. Why had Lyra chosen him to be trained by this man? What was she really trying to do? Had she planned all of this from the very beginning? And, perhaps most troubling of all, was she trying to mold him into something he didn't understand, something he wasn't ready for?
He glanced at Lyra, walking alongside him, her expression serene and unreadable. How much of what she said could be trusted? What were her true motives? Was she guiding him for her own purposes, or was this truly about helping him grow stronger?
The further they walked, the more these doubts gnawed at him, but each time he tried to voice them, they became tangled in his thoughts. His mind would flash back to the battles he'd already fought and the lessons he had yet to learn. He could feel the weight of his ignorance. And while part of him resented it, another part realized that his pride alone would not be enough to face whatever came next.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they emerged from the forest into a clearing. But what awaited them there was not an open field. A small, rustic village stretched out before them, its wooden houses dotted along winding cobblestone streets. The scent of cooking fires wafted through the air, and the distant sound of children's laughter reached their ears.
Aric blinked in surprise. He had been expecting an open expanse, a place to begin his training, but not this—this village, with its simple charm and people going about their everyday lives.
The man stopped abruptly, motioning for Aric to do the same. "This is where we begin."
Aric's heart raced, confusion flooding his mind. "What is this place?"
The man turned toward him, his eyes colder than ever. "A village and an outpost more than a village. We will begin at dawn."