Jack stood before the entrance to Auren's dwelling—more living entity than structure.
The ancient tree arched above like a guardian, its bark laced with glowing sigils. Light spilled from within, warm and soft as candlelight, and the air buzzed faintly, like a song on the edge of hearing.
Inside, the world was impossibly vast. Shelves floated midair, books danced slowly in circles, scrolls unrolled themselves before curling back into sleep. Crystals hummed above the hearth, and the walls pulsed with quiet magic.
"Clean yourself," Auren said. "Wear the robe by the basin. Then we begin."
Jack stepped into the chamber with the basin and stared at his reflection. The mossy water glowed softly, and when he dipped his fingers, it shimmered with silver light. He washed, dressed, and returned.
Auren handed him a carved staff.
"You're not here to play soldier," the old man said. "You are here to remember."
Training began before sunrise.
Auren taught him the Balance of Breath—a meditative stance used to channel energy without burning through his strength. He taught Jack how to feel the rhythm of the realm, how to press his palm to stone and sense the heartbeat of the forest.
Then came the magic.
"Say it with intention," Auren instructed. "Magic answers clarity. Not fear."
Jack stood before a pool of still water. Auren whispered the words first.
"Nareth'sehl."
Water rise.
The pool stirred. A column of liquid twisted upward, hovering like a snake ready to strike.
Jack tried.
His first attempts splashed back in his face.
He tried again. And again. Until, finally, a stream rose shakily before collapsing.
"Good," Auren said. "But magic is not just words—it's will."
Next, Auren brought him under the moon shard. A massive crescent of glowing crystal, hanging from the branches above the grove.
"This is your second path," Auren said. "Moon magic governs illusion, mind, and memory."
He waved his hand, and Jack's shadow split into three—each moving in different directions.
"The words?"
Auren nodded.
"Valura'nem."
Shadow split.
Jack whispered it.
His shadow trembled, then wavered. Two shadows broke from him and stood upright.
They walked. Moved. Echoed.
He gasped.
"You'll learn more later," Auren said. "But tonight, we train your spirit."
The days bled together.
Jack read books written in light, some older than the Earth itself. He learned of the Silver Flame that once ruled the skies, of the war between the Realms, and the ancient pacts that bound magic into bloodlines.
Combat was cruel. Auren, though aged, moved like water and struck like stone. Jack lost every sparring match, but each fall taught him. He grew faster. Sharper.
His magic sharpened too.
Water obeyed him.
"Drel'nora."
Water bind.
Ropes of water lashed from the pool and held a log in midair.
"Serith'lun."
Moon veil.
A shimmer cloaked his body. He vanished for five seconds before reappearing, gasping.
"Hold it longer," Auren urged.
Jack grew exhausted. His limbs ached. His mind burned from the spellwork. But in those moments—when magic flowed, when the forest sang—he felt something shift within him.
Thalon.
His dreams became clearer now. Not just war and fire—but memories. Faces. A woman with eyes like the sea. A sword forged from ice and ash. A golden tower in flames.
"I'm changing," he said one night, collapsing beside the hearth.
Auren studied him quietly. "You're awakening."
....
Far away, in her obsidian tower, Isolde screamed.
Another mirror shattered.
The crimson moths returned empty. Again.
"He's hidden," she snarled. "But not forever."
The Dark Lord's voice echoed in her chamber like poison smoke: "Find the boy. End the prophecy."
...….
Back in Vaelmir, Jack stood by the edge of the sacred spring, breathing slowly. The wind stirred around him as water rose, curved, and flowed through his fingers.
Auren watched from behind. "You've come far, Jack. But there's still much to learn."
"I want to know everything."
Auren's eyes narrowed. "Then be prepared to sacrifice everything."
Jack didn't flinch.
Because deep down, he already had.