The wilderness swallowed them whole. Towering trees stretched high, their branches entwining to block out most of the sunlight. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the distant sounds of wildlife seemed muted, as if the forest itself held its breath.
Thorolf walked ahead, his steps deliberate and unyielding. His broad shoulders cast long shadows in the fractured light, his sword resting in its scabbard at his side. Behind him, Eldric followed, his new steel sword strapped across his back.
It had been weeks since they left the sanctuary. Thorolf had insisted on taking Eldric deep into the wilds for what he called "a real test." The boy had grown since their last journey together—taller, broader in the shoulders, and wielding strength far beyond his years. Yet, as the sword weighed on his back, Eldric couldn't help but feel the weight of something far heavier.
Thorolf halted abruptly, raising a hand to signal Eldric to stop. Without turning, he drew his blade in one smooth motion, its steel glinting in the dappled light.
"Draw your sword," he said, his voice low but commanding.
Eldric obeyed, gripping the hilt of his longsword and pulling it free. Its weight was familiar now, though his arms still ached after long hours of practice.
"Show me what you've learned," Thorolf said, turning to face him.
The sparring match began with a clang of steel. Thorolf moved like a shadow, his strikes deliberate and controlled. Eldric met him with quick reflexes, blocking and countering as best he could.
"Too slow!" Thorolf barked, sweeping Eldric's legs out from under him.
Eldric hit the ground hard, the air rushing from his lungs. He scrambled to his feet, gripping his sword tighter.
Thorolf didn't wait. He pressed the attack, forcing Eldric to retreat. "If you can't fight me, how do you expect to survive the world?"
Eldric gritted his teeth, frustration burning in his chest. He deflected a strike, then lunged forward with a powerful swing. Thorolf sidestepped, catching Eldric's wrist and twisting it just enough to disarm him.
The sword clattered to the ground.
Thorolf stepped back, sheathing his blade. "You've got the strength," he said, his tone almost approving. "But you're still thinking like a boy with a wooden sword. A real fight doesn't give second chances."
Eldric retrieved his weapon, his pride bruised more than his body. "You could've gone easier," he muttered.
Thorolf let out a short laugh. "And what would that teach you? The wilds won't go easy. Neither will your enemies."
They set camp that evening beside a narrow stream, the sound of running water blending with the crackle of their fire. Eldric sat cross-legged, polishing his sword while Thorolf worked on repairing his gauntlets.
"You've gotten better," Thorolf said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Eldric looked up, surprised. "You mean that?"
Thorolf nodded. "But better isn't good enough. Not yet."
Before Eldric could respond, a chilling sound cut through the night—a guttural screech that echoed through the trees. Both of them froze.
Thorolf's hand went to his sword, his movements swift and practiced. "Stay close," he ordered.
They moved cautiously toward the source of the noise, their footsteps muffled by the forest floor. The air grew colder with each step, and an unnatural fog began to roll in, thick and clinging.
Thorolf cursed under his breath. "Foglets," he said grimly. "Stay sharp, boy. These things are trickier than they look."
The fog enveloped them, dense and blinding. Shadows flickered at the edge of Eldric's vision, disappearing before he could focus. His grip on the sword tightened, his heart pounding in his chest.
A sudden movement to his left.
"Down!" Thorolf shouted.
Eldric dropped to the ground as a clawed hand swiped through the air where his head had been. Thorolf surged forward, his sword flashing as it cleaved through the foglet's torso. The creature hissed, its body dissolving into mist.
Another foglet appeared, lunging at Thorolf with unnatural speed. He parried its claws, the force of the blow sending vibrations through his blade.
Eldric spun as he heard a snarl behind him. A third foglet emerged from the mist, its hollow eyes glowing faintly. Eldric swung his sword with all his strength, the blade biting into the creature's side. It screeched, retreating into the fog.
"They're regrouping!" Thorolf yelled. "Stay on the move!"
The foglets struck from all sides, their attacks coordinated and relentless. Eldric blocked a swipe, the claws raking sparks from his blade. He countered with a downward strike, forcing the creature to retreat.
One foglet darted toward Thorolf, its claws aimed for his throat. Thorolf sidestepped, delivering a devastating upward slash that severed its arm. The foglet shrieked but didn't falter, its other claw striking Thorolf's shoulder.
Thorolf grunted in pain but didn't slow. His sword flashed again, cutting cleanly through the creature's neck.
Eldric found himself cornered, two foglets circling him like predators stalking prey. His breaths came in sharp gasps, his arms burning from the weight of his sword.
Think, he told himself. Don't panic.
He feinted toward one foglet, forcing it to retreat, then turned and drove his blade into the chest of the second. The creature writhed, its claws flailing wildly before it dissolved.
The remaining foglet lunged, its claws raking across Eldric's side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and swung his sword in a wide arc, slicing through the creature's abdomen. It fell, its form dissipating into the mist.
Thorolf finished the last foglet with a brutal downward strike, the fog clearing as the creature's remains scattered into the air.
Back at the campfire, Eldric sat in silence, staring at the blood on his sword. His side throbbed where the foglet's claws had grazed him, and his mind replayed the fight in vivid detail.
"You held your own," Thorolf said, breaking the silence. He was wrapping a bandage around his shoulder, his expression grim but calm.
Eldric looked up. "I... I wasn't fast enough. Or strong enough."
Thorolf shook his head. "You survived. That's enough for now."
Eldric frowned, his fingers brushing the hilt of his sword. "But it didn't feel like enough. I was scared. I—"
Thorolf leaned forward, his gaze steady. "Everyone's scared in a fight. Only fools aren't. The difference is what you do with that fear."
Eldric nodded slowly, though the weight of the fight still pressed on him. He glanced at his sword, its blade gleaming in the firelight. For the first time, he understood the true cost of wielding it.
"I'll get better," he said quietly.
Thorolf smirked faintly. "You will."