Logan stirred awake to the sound of heavy footsteps outside his door. He sat up quickly, instinctively reaching for the axes at his side, before reminding himself where he was. The door creaked open, and Ulrik's broad frame filled the entrance.
"Get dressed, boy," Ulrik said, his voice quieter than usual. "We need to talk."
Logan nodded and quickly donned the furs Ulrik had gifted him, his new axes strapped to his hips and shield on his back. He followed Ulrik outside into the crisp morning air. The sky was streaked with the pink and orange hues of dawn, and the bustling sounds of the city were faint in the distance.
Ulrik led Logan to a secluded spot near the manor, away from prying eyes and ears. For a moment, the older man was silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Logan could feel the weight of the moment, the tension in the air.
"You've come a long way, Logan," Ulrik said finally, his voice carrying a rare softness. "When I first saw you, I thought Rorik was mad for calling me. You were scrawny, unsure, and too damn soft-hearted. But now…" He turned to face Logan, his eyes sharp yet carrying a glint of pride. "Now, you're a warrior in the making. Not just because of your marks or your talent, but because of your will. Your hunger to grow stronger."
Logan swallowed hard, the weight of Ulrik's words settling on his shoulders. "I couldn't have done it without you."
Ulrik chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound. "Don't get sentimental on me, boy. You've got a long way to go. And I won't always be there to protect you." His tone grew serious. "From here on, you'll need to stand on your own two feet. The academy will test you in ways you can't imagine. Friends will become rivals. Strength will bring envy. And power…" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Power will bring enemies."
Logan nodded, feeling the gravity of Ulrik's words sink in. "I understand."
"Good," Ulrik said. Then, his gaze darkened slightly. "One last thing—your death affinity and Emery's life affinity. Keep it hidden."
Logan blinked in surprise. "Why? Why hide something so… powerful?"
Ulrik's jaw tightened, and he hesitated before answering. "Because no one in Halgard can help you with it. There's no one alive here who knows those spells or what that kind of magic requires. So why show your hand? Let it remain your trump card, a weapon no one will see coming when the time is right."
Logan nodded slowly, his respect for Ulrik deepening. The man was blunt, sometimes harsh, but his advice was always sound.
"Come on," Ulrik said, clapping Logan on the shoulder. "Let's get to the main hall. It's time for you and Emery to take the next step."
---
The main hall of Ragnar's manor was alive with activity when they entered. The vast space, lined with tall columns and banners of the Wolf Clan, felt grand yet intimidating. At the far end, Ragnar sat on his imposing throne, flanked by Aria and Alaric.
The room was packed with children roughly the same age as Logan and Emery, all bearing marks on either their right or left arms. Warriors stood with weapons of all kinds—swords, spears, shields, axes, and maces—while Magi clutched staffs, wands, or simply wore robes adorned with magical sigils.
The contrast between the children was stark. Some wore polished armor or robes of fine fabric, their weapons gleaming and well-crafted. Others were dressed in patched clothing, their equipment crude and worn. Yet, despite their differences, they all shared the same marks—one on either arm, indicating their path.
Logan and Emery moved through the crowd, drawing a few curious stares. Logan's axes and shield marked him as a warrior, but his covered arms left his marks hidden, just as Ulrik had advised. Emery, wrapped in her mage's cloak and holding her wand, seemed to blend in with the other Magi, though her quiet confidence set her apart.
Ulrik led them to a spot near the throne, his presence commanding attention. Ragnar's piercing gaze fell on them briefly, but he said nothing.
"This is where we part ways," Ulrik said, turning to Logan and Emery. His voice carried an unusual softness, almost as if he were reluctant to let them go.
"You've both got what it takes to make it here," he said. "But remember, strength isn't just about muscles or magic. It's about the choices you make, the people you protect, and the battles you're willing to fight. Never forget that."
Logan felt a lump form in his throat but managed to nod. "Thank you, Ulrik. For everything."
Ulrik grunted, clearly uncomfortable with the sentiment. "Don't make me regret it, boy."
With that, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd.
Logan and Emery stood together, the weight of the moment settling over them. Tomorrow, their journey at the academy would begin. And with it, a new chapter in their lives—a chapter that would test their strength, their resolve, and the bond that had carried them this far.