The Divine Tears

YEAR 1

Some time had passed since Daarion met the princess of the kingdom of Evanduria. He thought of her every day, her enchanting voice, the way her smile calmed him. By this time the city was at its normal self, the merchants weren't overflowed with customers and the day came when no child touched the crystal, meaning the first trial has come to an end. The wizard overseeing the first trial dwelled again in his educational building, where he would spend most of his days reading text and discovering new spells.

The hostel was not completely filled. Many rooms were empty.

Haxios, a boy living in the room beside Daarion and Erwan hammered on every door and murmured something. The large older red-brown haired boy walloped Daarion's door.

'Clean yourselves up,' Haxios said with disgust in his voice. 'Put on those formal clothing, everyone should meet outside.'

'What for?' Erwan slowly pushed himself up from his bed.

'How would I know?' Haxios shrugged. 'The paladin told me to tell everyone. Treats me like a slave.'

Haxios rushed off to the next room, he yelled at the two girls across the hallway.

'He's only been here three weeks and he already thinks he's the lord,' Erwan shut the door with vigour.

The two boys dressed in their formal clothing, it was tighter than they thought it would be, however it did look rather dashing.

'This collar will strangle me to death before Haxios will,' Daarion pulled on his collar. 'We should make our way outside.'

The two boys steered their way through many children under the sun. Cries and shouts were all-round.

'Silence!' Azil shouted from atop the steps, covering the door leading to the castle. 'Two lanes, girls on the left, boys on the right.'

Many children slowly took place in two rows, some made jests while doing so.

'Now!' all the children obeyed him swiftly as they formed two lanes. 'Follow me. Keep your mouths shut, if I hear a single word from any of you, I will personally escort them back home.'

Not a single child uttered a word.

Azil escorted them through the hall of carvings, he made a left. Two knights opened two large, beautiful doors with two dragon-head figures on both.

They entered the main hall of the castle. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling with large spiralling pillars supporting the ceiling. The large red flags with a single yellow star hung from the pillars. At the very end were four steps leading to a large throne, decorated with many gems and stones, as if dwarves had a hand in it. Beside the throne was a smaller sleeker throne.

The old wizard stood on the steps beside a dwarf with a long bushy beard and large ears, a battle-worn man with short dark hair, and an elf; tall, fair, and smooth milky hair. The elf's ears were pointy at the edge and his eyes were light and calm. He wore a green robe with golden leaf patterns stitched on it, quite opposite to the dwarf's heavy muted grey-coloured attire.

Musicians rested at the sides of the hall. Long flat tables with many different foods and drinks were set on them.

The hall was large enough that even with all the children inside, there was still a surprising amount of unused space.

Azil took the four steps, overlooking the children.

'If any child wishes to leave, now is their chance,' Azil delivered a sentence that gave Daarion a cold chill throughout his body. 'There is no shame in leaving at this stage, if you feel out of place you may leave. You shall be escorted back home.'

Five children removed themselves from the crowd, the doors closed behind them as they left.

The hall filled with whispers and gossip.

Azil straightened himself proudly and honourably. 'Behold, King Ezlin Langforne the third, ruler of the kingdom of Evanduria. Accompanied by his queen, Ava Langforne.'

The hall was silent. The king, tall and broad, raven-haired, dark eyes, slogged through and sat on his large throne. He wore red and black fine clothing with a long furry white cape. The queen, light blonde hair, the eyes of the sky, her skin was pale, too pale. She took her seat beside the king. Tessriel entered through a door behind her mother and father, with a long white and gold dress, clasping her mother's hand. A boy entered after Tessriel, he had dark eyes and light hair. The boy stood tall and proud beside Ezlin with an ugly smirk on his face.

Daarion hardly noticed the king and queen on their thrones.

'Two hundred and eighty-seven, my king,' Azil announced. 'A hundred of these children shall become Valkans.'

The king smirked and bowed his head in honour.

'Let me have the honour to introduce you to wizard Melga,' Azil continued. 'You've all met him. He shall oversee the campus and all educational studies.'

'Thank you, Azil,' Melga stepped forward, leaning on his obsidian staff with a crystal firmly placed on top. 'I am honoured. If any of you fine pupils have any questions or worries, I will set them at ease after the opening ceremony. To the matter at hand, your forging classes shall be constructed by Ûlma.'

The dwarf took a step forward, revealing his teeth through his beard, beaming.

'Training shall be taught under Valkan Detla,' the wizard cleared his throat.

Detla took a step forward, he had no emotions to show, he merely stared, huffing at the sight of some scrawny children at the front.

'Hunting shall be taught by Elandiël, he'll also attend the different classes to share his knowledge of his culture.

The elf stepped forward, stiff and noble he gave a light bow of his head.

'Your schedules shall be handed to you tomorrow morning,' the wizard continued. 'Be sure you follow them strictly and be sure to never miss any classes.'

The children listened intently with no voice breaking through.

'From this moment on you shall be known as students of the Valkan trials. Congratulations.'

Smiles and hugs were all-round.

'Students!' the king stood. 'This is the greatest honour the kingdom has to offer, this journey will be hard, this journey will be resilient. But remember to fight and push on, make us proud!'

The hall echoed with the king's words; trumpets blared. The students took seats at the tables and a great feast was held. The king's laughter could be heard from the highest tower of the castle. At this moment Daarion felt happiness, something he felt rarely in his life in a simple barn. He had new friends, a new home. He feasted like a dwarf from the great dwarven city of Ûndast.

For many hours, the feast could be heard from the city's streets. The folk of the city celebrated their own way by dancing and cheering in the streets with sharply lit lanterns. The folk loved Valkans, for they kept the kingdom safe and peaceful. And the church of the divines preached loud and fast at the edge of the city.

The hall became more silent when midnight came, for the next day would be the first step of training for the students, and they needed rest. Many nobles that joined the festivities were snoring on tables and chairs, including the king, who fell asleep on his throne with a goblet of wine in his hand.

Daarion waited eagerly for a chance to talk to the princess again. He saw her leave through a doorway that led to a balcony overlooking the ocean. Daarion followed quietly. He slipped through the doorway; the ocean breeze lightly blew his shoulder-length black hair across his face. Through his wavy hair, he saw her, the young princess, gazing at the stars.

'So,' he said, 'you're a princess.'

She turned. Her light eyes shined. 'The boy from the hall.'

'Our conversation ended so-abruptly,' he struggled to find his words, attempting to remember all the formal words that Erwan taught him, he was speaking with a princess after all.

'Yes,' her voice was softer than before, 'excuse Azil, he cares much for the king and his family.'

He rested his hands on the cold, stony railing.

'How come?' he asked. 'Is he some sort of king's guard?'

'You could say that. He's the king's Valkan, noblest and bravest. Nowadays he's just the laziest and most soulless. He never wants me to do anything exciting or daring, all he ever does is send me to my mother for lessons.'

'I see.'

'He's probably off carrying my father to bed, I swear they have a competition of who could be the laziest.'

Daarion said nothing. The breeze, calm and cool.

'I apologize,' she rested her elbows on the stony railing. 'I'm rambling. And rambling to someone I hardly know.'

'I'm an orphan,' he said. 'My best friend was a horse, and a fine one at that. I adore apples. Before I came here, I could hardly read or write, but now I can say I'm half decent at it. My last bed was in a barn. And I cannot remember if my eyes are green or brown, I haven't had the privilege of looking at myself in a mirror in quite a long time.'

Tessriel pushed herself up, faintly smiling. 'They're green.'

'You see, princess,' he said joyously, 'now you know me a little better.'

'That I do,' she said.

'So, Tessriel, tell me about that boy. The one that stood with you at the start of the ceremony.'

'Oh, do you mean my brother? His name is Aaron, he acts all tough, but he's even more fragile than I am. You shouldn't mind him.'

'He seemed very-noble.'

'Oh please,' the princess sneered. 'He's far from it, I can throw an ugly glance at him, and he'll start sobbing. My father thought it would be good to pamper Aaron his whole life, giving him all he desires with no hesitation.'

'You could do the same,' the boy said. 'You're a princess after all.'

'I could. But I decided not to be weak.'

'A fine choice,' Daarion bared his white teeth, grinning.

'Enough about me and my tedious family,' the princess pulled a strand of hair from her face. 'How does it feel being a student and partaking in the trials? Is there any excitement?'

Daarion gazed upon the ocean and the ships silently floating on the waters. 'It's not as exciting as you'd expect. When I first arrived it was quite exciting, but after arriving, all I did was write and read. Every day they give us food and some days they take our clothes and bring them back washed. And about every second or third day they'll bring these buckets of water and pour it into our bath. It's all quite dull in fact. But I suspect tomorrow would be much different, with our training starting and all.'

'It does sound pretty normal, however, tomorrow the true journey begins.'

Tessriel shivered from a cool breeze that brushed over them, yet she stayed with Daarion.

'In the hall, at the carvings,' he said, 'you said that you wish you could've done the trials, why can't you?'

'It's the law,' she grimaced. 'It's an idiotic law that prevents the royal family from participating in the trials. It's been this way since the first Valkans, but I think they should throw that law in the deepest dungeon there is.'

'You're not missing much, princess. There will come a day that you will stand on a balcony, looking down on us in the beating sun, while we almost die of training and you'll think, "well, this isn't so bad where I am.'''

The princess' cheeks puffed up with a smile.

'Tess?' a smooth voice came from behind.

Tessriel straightened herself, eyes wide. Daarion peered back, still leaning on the edge of the railing. As quickly as he could, he straightened his clothes, dusted off his chest, and stood as tall and stiff as possible, for queen Ava stood in the doorway.

'Mother,' Tessriel tilted her head slightly.

'Is this a friend of yours?' the queen slowly shifted closer, resting her hand on Tessriel's shoulder.

'Yes, mother,' Tessriel said softly. 'This is... oh my, seems that I've forgotten your name.'

'Daarion,' Daarion said loud and fast. 'My name is Daarion, your grace.'

'Calm yourself, Daarion,' the queen brushed her hand over Daarion's cheek. Daarion felt a warmth in her voice and a calmness in her soft fingers.

'Yes, my queen,' Daarion's shoulders dropped, he was calm.

The queen, seeing her shivering daughter loosened her fur coat and pulled it over Tessriel. 'Come, Tess,' the queen began pulling her daughter away. 'This ceremony has dragged on longer than I anticipated. Let us go to bed. Daarion, I think you might need some rest as well; you'll need all your strength for tomorrow. And thank you for not letting my daughter be alone on this cold evening.'

'Thank you, Daarion,' Tessriel took her dress at the sides and gave a small formal bow. 'I look forward to our next meeting.'

'As do I, princess,' Daarion bowed his head.

The queen escorted Tessriel back inside the castle, making their way to the princess's chambers.

'What a handsome young boy,' the queen said teasingly, 'wouldn't you say so as well, Tessriel?'

'Mother, no' Tessriel's cheeks turned light pink as she ran off towards her chambers.

The sun crept up the horizon, the sky faded with the orange sun and the night sky. In those early hours, classes were split in forty students, some classes had a larger number of students but not by much.

After sorting the classes, Daarion's class was instructed by a paladin that their first class would be Valkan education from the tall academic building with the glass dome, and would be given by the wizard, Melga.

The academic building's doors croaked open, the scent of paper and wood flogged the students' noses. The inside was large, much larger than anticipated from how much smaller it looked from the outside. There were many desks placed neatly on the bottom floor. A spiral staircase against the wall made its way up to three different floors filled with shelves, stacked with dusty books and old scrolls. The glass dome lit up the room, there was no need for any candles to be lit.

'Please take your seats, students,' Melga stood up from his desk at the far side of the room. His desk was littered with sheets of paper, books, and rolled-up scrolls.

The students made their way to the desks but not before they noticed a large red bird with beautiful long feathers standing on the wooden railing of the spiralling staircase.

Haxios pushed aside the students in his way, making a path to the bird. He stuck out his hand, feeling a strange heat emitting from the bird, the same heat that a fireplace would give.

'Careful,' said Melga, 'you wouldn't want to lose a finger, do you?'

Haxios quickly pulled away his hand. He sheltered his hand with his other. 'Why is this thing hot?'

'It's a phoenix, child,' Melga said loudly. 'It's not a mere thing or a bird. He's my companion and my dearest friend. If you hurt him in any way, you have much more than him to deal with. Now sit down.'

Haxios slowly made his way to an open desk.

'If you're all done being childish, we can commence with the briefing,' Melga's obsidian staff floated into his hand, leaning on it, and overlooking the students. 'This is where I shall strengthen your mind, I shall forge you all to think quick, speak wisely, and listen sharply. My teachings will be tiresome, you all shall hate me in the coming years but, in time you will be thankful. Four hours-four hours a day you will be taught here, from history to political matters. Tomorrow you will have physical training with Detla, the Valkan. And the day after, forging with Ûlma, the dwarf. After you've met your teachers and you've made clear what there is to be taught your official training shall begin. A week's classes shall be spent here, then a week of physical training, and then a week of forging, so on and so forth.'

Yara's hand flew up.

'Yes, child?' Melga asked.

'Sir,' Yara said. 'Why do we have different classes every week? Why not have one day a class and the next day the other?'

'It has been this way since the first Valkans,' Melga said. 'It is a swifter way to teach young minds by focusing on one task for a longer time.'

'And the trials?' Yara asked while throwing her hand up again. 'Before we came, many people said the trials will be difficult and tiring, yet we've only seen one trial, the one where we're pure human. When are the others?'

'Child,' Melga gave his beard a single stroke, 'you are already in the second trial. The third is physical training, the fourth the forging, and the fifth is hunting and survival. These combined trials will be your foundation for becoming a Valkan. But, if you give up just once, you shall be sent home.'

The class was silent, Daarion realised that these classes were much more important than he thought, though it was also a chance for him to become something greater. For he felt in his heart he should push himself further, further than any Valkan has trained for. Daarion felt that he needed to stand out, to be noticed, to be the absolute best.

'For now,' the wizard said, 'we shall commence with your first lesson, your most important lesson.'

The wizard thumped the stony floor with his staff softly. Many books came floating from the top levels. They were the same books; they were not too thick or broad. It had a leather cover, and, on the cover, a single word engraved on it, the word "Valkan." The books silently floated before each student.

'These books,' the wizard continued, 'will be with you until your last day as a student here. It contains all the history of the Valkans and what it means to be a Valkan. But, before opening the book, is there anyone that can tell us what it means to be a Valkan?'

Yara's hand flew up again.

'Yes, child?'

'A Valkan is someone with the power of a dragon that keeps the peace throughout the world.'

'Very good,' Melga walked between the desks. 'However, there is much more than just being a peacekeeper. It is true that once you accept the name of Valkan, you are granted a single drop of a dragon tear engulfed in dragon fire that you will consume, you shall be gifted the power of a dragon. This power will grant you inhuman strength and endurance, on top of that, your senses will be enhanced significantly, but the one I think most of you would be fond of is immunity to fire.'

The class erupted into chatter and smiles.

The wizard thumped his staff, sparks flew from the stony floor. The class fell immediately silent.

'Also,' the wizard said, 'a Valkan is also immune to most illnesses and toxins, that also includes any alcohol.'

The older students including Haxios grimaced, moans were given towards the wizard. Melga gave a silent laugh. Daarion also had a smile, he never was interested in alcohol, he never had any.

Melga again thumped his staff on the floor, this became a sufficient way to silence the class.

'Furthermore,' Melga said. 'What it means to be a Valkan is to protect those in need, bring justice to the unjust, and above all create and withhold everlasting peace. This is the oath every Valkan follows until they breathe their last. And with this, a Valkan has high honour, higher than most lords. They are able to overrule the highest of lords, only if it is on the path towards peace. And then, there is the king's Valkan, the best of all Valkans, he, or she outranks all the other. The only person that has a higher authority over the king's Valkan is the king himself, and the king's council.' The wizard turned towards the students. 'However, the king already has his own dragon at his side from the previous Valkans, but each of his family members is also able to acquire a Valkan at their own side. Students here will become either the prince, the princess or the queen's Valkan - if they wish to desire so.

Daarion's eyes lit up, he sat upright in his chair. This is exactly what Daarion wanted to hear, he felt a fire within him, a fire that he will shape and grow.

The students gazed over each other, they sized each other, thinking if they would be able to overcome one another.

Daarion's eyes caught Erwan beside him, Erwan gave Daarion a slight nod. Daarion knew that even with his friendship with Erwan, Erwan would also aim for the highest-ranking Valkan.

'I want you all to aim for the king's Valkan,' the wizard said in a stern voice. 'There's no slacking. Many tests and exams will be thrown at you, written, physical, even armoury tests. Only the strongest will be left standing. Be sure you are the strongest.'

Melga turned, his robe swaying gracefully. 'Who here can tell me what the actual meaning of the word "Valkan" is?'

Yara's hand flew up once more.

'Yes, child?'

'It means dragon, sir?'

'Very good. In the dragon language, Valkan means dragon.'

The class proceeded with a lecture on the history of Valkans and the first great war that led up to the creation of the first Valkans.

It was after midday when the lecture finished, it was much longer than the four hours the wizard initially said a class would be. But seeing it was the very first lesson for the students, Melga thought they needed to know all the details.

Daarion waited for all the students to exit. The chatter of the students became distant, Daarion walked over to the wizard's desk where Melga sat, dipping a feather pen into a quill.

'Sir,' Daarion said silently.

Melga's old ears did not hear Daarion's soft call.

'Sir,' Daarion said louder.

Melga dragged his eyes over to Daarion.

'You may leave, child,' the wizard grunted. 'Our lesson is over.'

'I know, sir,' Daarion walked closer. 'But I would like to know more.'

'And why would you want to know more?' the wizard sat back in his chair.

'You said there's no slacking,' Daarion said. 'You said we should aim for the highest rank. And that is what I intend to do, sir.'

'And what is your motivation for doing so?'

'You told us to do our best, sir,' Daarion walked even closer towards the wizard's desk.

'No, child,' the wizard stroked his beard. 'There has to be a reason for you to aim for it, I don't want you to follow mere words, most of these students were half asleep during my lecture, they are the ones that will follow mere words, they are the ones who'll fail. You should have your own motivation, your own reason to do so. So, what is it, child?'

'Well,' Daarion took a step back. 'I might be young, but all my life I've had nothing and no one. When I was very young, my brother left me, he went to the magic school of Zerethia. He went immediately when he found he had the gift of magic, he always blamed me.'

'Blamed you for what?'

'For our mother's death,' Daarion swallowed, his hands quivering as he stared at his feet. 'She died during my birth. I don't blame him, he knew her, and he loved her. My father died shortly after my brother left, he was a drunk and it killed him. A woman, Rina found me on a street, begging for a piece of bread. She gave me a home, but I was still unwanted. I've never had someone to look up to, I've never had someone to protect me or desire me. I think I would want to be that for someone, I want to be someone to look up to and make them feel safe.'

'Look at me,' Melga said calmly. 'Whatever happened in your life, it's not your fault. Always remember that.'

Daarion's eyes were slightly red and watery.

'You spoke like a true Valkan,' the wizard stood proudly, grabbing his staff. 'This is the third generation of Valkans I've taught, in all these years, I've never had a child come up to me and asked to know more.'

Melga thumped his staff. A large book came floating from the top floor. The book was dusty but unharmed. The book dropped on Melga's desk, rubbing his hands over the leather straps on the book.

'This book was written by many Valkans,' Melga finally said. 'They wrote their adventures throughout the world in this book. There are many things you can learn from it, from sufficient ways to hunt a wyvern to cooking a tasty rabbit stew. When you've learned all you can from this book, be sure to bring it back to me, and maybe someday you can write about your own adventures.'

Melga pushed the book over to Daarion. The boy nearly lost his balance picking up the large book.

'Thank you, sir,' Daarion beamed with excitement.

He turned, making his way back to the hostel.

'Oh Daarion,' the wizard called. 'There will be many times that you will have off days, in those times you are more than welcome for some additional lessons.'

'Thank you, sir,' Daarion's smile hadn't disappeared. 'I'll keep that in mind.'

Erwan sat on a bench beside the academic building, gnawing away at his fingernails. 'What have you got there, Daarion?'

Daarion slogged over, hugging the heavy book between his arms before he perched himself beside Erwan. 'A book of adventures of the past Valkans.'

'Seems like quite the reading work, and someday you'll read about my adventures,' Erwan grinned.

'Aren't you overestimating yourself a bit?' Daarion gave a light playful smirk.

'Pff,' Erwan snickered, 'I was born to do this. There has been a Valkan with the name of Reid for the past five hundred years. Luckily for my generation, I was chosen. They chose correctly I'd say. And in all generations, none have failed.'

Daarion was new to this confidence his friend was boasting, even if it was a skittish confidence, however, he found a fondness to it and thought he should adopt a same confidence, if only a fraction. And his friend made the perfect teacher.

'None have failed-yet,' Daarion gave a smirk.

'Oh, I see how it is,' Erwan smiled, 'from now on you're my competitor, even if you are my friend.'

'Very well,' Daarion stood, still parading his smirk, 'come on then, let me read you a story from this here book while you fall asleep and caress your pillow again.'

'It was cold.'

'It's the middle of summer.'

The two made their way to the hostel, surrounded by the stirring chatters of the lively students.

That whole evening Daarion read many stories from the book, he was quite fond of the stories from heroic heroes who gave their lives in order to save their kingdom, also the ones where Valkans came to aid the smallest of villages. Those stories planted a small realisation in Daarion's head, a realisation that the smallest, insignificant person is equal to even a warden or a paladin, and a Valkan... willing to give their life for such a small soul.

In the morning, Daarion woke to the sound of banging on their door. He picked the book up from his chest where he fell asleep while reading grand adventures. He sat on the edge of his bed. Erwan, still asleep under his many blankets.

'Erwan,' Daarion rubbed his eyes as he lazily dragged his feet over to Erwan, shaking the blond boy awake. 'It's time to wake up.'

Erwan groaned and moaned, struggling to open his eyes.

'I know,' Daarion sat back on his bed. 'I feel the same. Why does it have to be this early?'

Daarion and his class dressed in their training outfits, the outfits weren't the most comfortable attire, but they did protect them from attaining serious injuries at this early stage in their training.

They then made their way to the training area. The sun edged its way onto the horizon, the students felt the sun's heat on their bare necks. Detla awaited all the students with his hands on his hips. White sand was chosen for the training ground, for it was cool and wouldn't fatigue students by overheating them. Sand also worked wonders for muscle training. At the edge of the sand, between the pillars, there were wooden racks with many different types of wooden weapons placed neatly on them.

'I know it's early,' Detla's voice was rough, as if a lion growled at the students. 'I know your eyes hurt. I've been where you are many times. And let me tell you now, you will feel worse, you will feel as if you might not stand any longer, you will feel pain and tiredness. That is exactly why I am here. I will break your bodies and rebuild them from the ground up. You will despise me, you will despise my words, my actions, and the scars you'll acquire here.'

Detla paced from left to right, staring each student in the eyes. The students felt nervous while he stared at them, Daarion's knees felt weak as Detla stared him in the eyes, feeling like he could sense his thoughts.

'In your academic studies, you will learn of the dangerous creatures that you'll hunt. Here I shall teach you to how to physically hunt those creatures, but remember this, humans can be the most horrific creatures with no remorse for any life other than their own. Here you will find the power, the courage to end human life if necessary.'

Some students lifted their heads and pushed their chests out as if they were already brave to take human life or hunt a creature with the desire of only malice. But some students including Daarion gazed down upon the white sand, those students knew that killing another human will be no easy task, physically and mentally.

'I will teach you in different combat styles from elvish, dwarvish, even the lands from the southern kingdom of Celia. You will be forced to become adept in these combat styles. There will be no slacking, the one thing I will require from all of you is discipline, if you lack discipline, I shall beat it thoroughly into your thick skull. Am I understood?'

The class murmured, some nodded.

Detla shook his head at the response of the tired class.

'Two weapons,' Detla continued with an angry frown. 'A Valkan has two weapons on himself, in which he mastered both. Here you will train with all weapons that we have at our disposal, only at a later stage, in your fifth year will you be required to commence your mastering of those two weapons.'

The students began a chatter amongst themselves on which weapon they would choose; some laughter broke out as well.

'It's exciting I know,' Detla had no excitement in his voice, it was still husky and unamused. 'Let us begin. Choose a weapon.'

Loud cries broke out as the students pushed each other aside. Detla only stood with his arms crossed, for he knew that he would discipline these children in becoming their peak selves. Haxios grabbed a large wooden axe as it reflected his large stature. Lyra picked a bow with a quiver; she then energetically ran back to her spot. Yara chose an elegant long wooden spear, resembling a glaive. Erwan picked a longsword.

By the time the whole class was finished picking their weapons and already back at their spots awaiting the lesson, Daarion was still uncertain which weapon to choose. Detla gave Daarion all the time he needed. Daarion saw that the rack with shields was still completely full, he firmly gripped a rounded wooden shield. He then went to the rack with short swords, he handled many of them and felt comfortable with a one hand short sword. He noticed the class waiting for him, he rushed back to his spot, not making eye contact with any of the students.

'About time,' Haxios cried out. 'Why don't you just take the whole lesson to decide if you're an idiot or not?'

Students chuckled at the remark. Daarion's head fell in embarrassment.

'Quiet!' Detla's voice pierced the students' ears, quickly shutting down the laughter. 'I'm glad to see one of you has the wit in picking decent gear. What's your name, boy?'

'Daarion, sir.'

'Call me Detla, that goes for all of you.' Detla walked over to Daarion, towering over the young boy. 'My name is not sir, it's Detla. Tell me, Daarion, why did you pick a shield and a short sword?'

'Well,' Daarion's mouth felt dry. 'You see, I re-.'

'Speak up, boy. And look at me.

'You see,' Daarion spoke louder, his eyes met Detla's. 'I read that shields are the objects that save lives, yours and others. Also, it can be used for attacking as well. As for the sword, it felt comfortable.'

'A wise perspective, Daarion,' Detla nodded with a slight smirk on his face. 'But if you want a superior shield that is quite efficient with defending as well as attacking you might want to learn of the kite shield. They are rounded at the top like the one you have, but they curve down to a sharp point. They have a shape of a leaf.'

Daarion glanced over to the shield rack and saw the very description of one. He quickly realised the kite shield was much superior to the one he had.

'Detla?' Daarion said quickly.

Detla growled.

'May I change my shield to that kite shield over there?'

'You may,' Detla nodded.

As Daarion exchanged his round shield for the leaf-shaped shield, Detla went to the next student, he heard every thought from every student on why they chose their weapon.

After hearing every student's remark, Detla sat on a broken pillar placed on the grass.

'Give me twenty rounds,' Detla rubbed the sweat off his forehead with his forearm. 'I want you to run from the one edge of the sandpit to the other, twenty times. Now!'

The students began putting their weapons back on the racks.

'With your weapons,' Detla roared.

The lesson was filled with moans and heavy breaths as they ran on the sand, with every step the students would sink lower, their legs and arms burned, and their bodies-fatigued.

Detla ended off the day's teachings with a simple sparring lesson. Daarion sparred with his friend Erwan, both could hardly lift their arms at the end of the lesson.

The sky was clear, the students were sweating and panting. Their chests were burning, some even vomited over the cliff overlooking the ocean. Luckily for them, the lesson was over.

'Come, Daarion,' Erwan panted, rubbing the sweat off his face with his palm. 'I need to take a bath, I wouldn't be able to carry all the water buckets by myself. I feel sticky and warm.'

'My legs are numb,' Daarion sat on the sand, breathing heavily as the sweat on his forehead dripped on the sand. 'I'll be there in a moment.'

Erwan went on to fill up water in buckets from the fountain beside the hostel. Daarion saw that Detla was picking up the sparring equipment that some students left begrudgingly on the sand.

'Detla, sir,' Daarion said hesitantly.

'It's only Detla,' Detla neatly adjusted the wooden weapons on the racks. 'And your four hours are done, the lesson is over. I need to prepare for the next class.'

Daarion saw another class joyfully walking towards the training area.

'I shall be quick,' said Daarion.

'Very well,' Detla growled. 'Go on then, be quick.'

'I want more classes.'

'More classes?' Detla put his hands on his hips. 'For what reason?'

'I want to be one of the greatest,' Daarion lifted his head, still finding his breath. 'I want to excel in all my studies, my trials. As I told Melga, I want to be someone to look up to. To inspire hope and greatness.'

The night before Daarion read many stories of great heroes, on how to inspire and sacrifice. It sparked a flame within him, a flame that would aid Daarion to push forward, to never give up.

'And I've realised,' Daarion continued, 'that I wouldn't become such a person behind old dusty books.'

'No, you wouldn't,' Detla smirked. 'You're a fine young man. I would gladly give you more lessons. When you have off days be sure to come to me. But I warn you, I will push you further than a normal student. However, you will be forever grateful.'

'Thank you si-, Detla,' Daarion bowed his head.

Daarion soaked in a cold bath that evening. His body felt stiff and heavy. His eyes were burning with tiredness. But the fire within him did not die out, for it was stoked with the words of Detla. The young boy that had nearly nothing months ago was now gaining the confidence and strength he always desired.

The hostel was quiet, the quietest it has been since Daarion's arrival. Detla did his job well, a bit too well.

The introduction to forging came the following day. The students were still stiff from the day before. The forging lesson came early as well. The students didn't mind the cool air and soft breeze on their skin this time.

At the back of the hostel, there was an open area of stone tiles paved neatly around a large forge. There were smaller forges surrounding the larger forge which was used by students in the early stages of their studies. There were plenty of different metals and woods on tables beside each forge. Anvils also accompanied each forge.

'Welcome class,' said Ûlma the dwarf as he stroked his bushy brown beard. 'I'm simply here for forging, to teach ye what I know. On my left is Elandiël, of all the classes he attends first, of course, it's mine.'

'Only to make certain that you're not filling their heads with ancient dwarvish fantasies.'

The dwarf groaned, grimacing furiously.

'The king and his counsel asked me to accompany you on this long journey towards the divines,' Elandiël continued, 'I shall be teaching the way of the elves in your academic studies, physical training, as well as forging alongside your other teachers. I'll also teach hunting and survival in the wild, however that class is only tomorrow.'

'Enough elf,' the dwarf said, swashing his hand in the face of the elf. 'You're wasting precious time. Now, who here has any knowledge of forging?'

Nearly a dozen students held up their hands.

'Good,' Ûlma nodded his head. 'I want ye to take all ye know about forging and shove it up yer ass.'

Elandiël bowed his head in shame.

'I'll teach ye the real ways of forging,' the dwarf nobly held his hand on his chest. 'Alongside this ere elf.'

'If I may, Ûlma,' Elandiël said. 'Armour is not a mere object for a Valkan, it is a part of them, an extension of themselves. Flimsy armour will lead any to their demise. We will teach how to forge your own armour, how to forge the extension of yourself.'

The class smiled with glee; some even hugged their friend beside them.

'Yes yes,' Ûlma scratched his beard, 'It's all very bloody exciting. With the study of armour, there is also the study of weapons. Ye all should've heard from Detla that a Valkan has two weapons at their side, should the one fail. Here we have many scrolls and the knowledge on how to acquire those skills in forging those specific weapons. The one hundred Valkans that will be chosen at the end of these eight years, shall be granted the passage and materials to forge yer armour and weapons atop the dwarven mountain forges.'

Daarion read about the great mountain forges in the book Melga gave him. The forges were built for the first Valkans by the dwarves atop the peaks of a flat mountaintop.

'Six months will be given to the one hundred Valkans to forge their apparel. Though none has ever taken all six months.'

'Six months?' Erwan spoke as soon as he threw up his hand. 'That's quite long.'

'Forging takes precise work,' the elf spoke. 'It is what will keep you alive. Forging is a lengthy process, but very necessary.'

'Aye, indeed it is,' Ûlma took scrolls from a table in his arms. 'Elf, make yerself useful and use those scrawny arms to hand out these scrolls.'

Elandiël did as the dwarf demanded, shunning the insult away.

'There are inscriptions on these scrolls on how to forge a proper knife,' Ûlma said as he handed the scrolls to the students, blasting the students with his fowl morning breath. 'Study it well, in yer first week of forging lessons ye shall make me a sturdy knife.'

The remainder of the lesson was filled with information on different metals and woods, on shields, swords, armour, and all different types of weaponry. The students were awake but hardly listened. Only a handful, including Daarion truly listened to the words of the elf and dwarf. They asked many questions; they observed every material there was at hand thoroughly.

The students who were half asleep during the class left in a hurry as soon as the lesson was over. But Daarion waited again. He approached the elf and dwarf.

'Ûlma?' Daarion hesitated. 'I want to ask if I can ha-.'

'Have more lessons?' Ûlma interrupted. 'I heard from Melga and Detla that there was a student asking for more lessons. Yer name is Daarion, yes?'

Daarion nodded.

'To be honest, Daarion,' Ûlma twirled his beard through his fingers. 'There is not much that I can teach ye other than the lessons that ye will be attending here. Forging takes time, lad. How I became a master forger was by forging the same object repeatedly until it was perfect. There is no way of speeding up the process, no way of learning faster.'

'I understand,' Daarion looked disheartened.

'Come on now,' the dwarf threw his arm over Daarion's shoulders. 'There's no need to be sad. Why don't ye attend lessons after your own? Yes, ye won't be surrounded by yer friends for the second lesson, yes eight hours a day of forging lessons will be tiresome, but let's see how it works out don't we? What do ye say, lad?'

'Aye,' Daarion smiled. 'I'll attend the second lessons, thank you, Ûlma, sir.'

'Now don't tire yerself out,' Ûlma pointed his finger at Daarion, 'ye hear me, lad?'

'Yes, sir,' Daarion nodded.

'Good,' Ûlma released the boy from his grasp. 'Now go on, my next class is waiting.'

Daarion hurried off, excited by Ûlma's words. He felt comfort in the dwarf's words, even though the dwarf was a bit... unusual, and comfort in the grasp of the dwarf's arm as well.

'How pleasant of you, Ûlma,' Elandiël said.

'Oh, shut it, elf,' Ûlma angrily walked off towards the next class of students.

'Gather round,' Elandiël spoke under the damp tree leaves of the nearby forest.

'Why does it have to be this early?' Haxios groaned, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

'You may go back to your warm bed if you so wish,' Elandiël spoke coldly, 'of course, you'd be kicked from this trial and be sent home for not being able to complete a lesson.'

Haxios straightened himself, conjuring the energy to keep himself awake. The other students yawned and stretched heavily before gathering around the elf.

'I know it's early,' Elandiël said, 'I know it's cold, keep your heads high and in time you'll be up before I call upon you. In this trial, I shall teach the art of hunting, foraging, and overall-the teachings of the woods. The world can be a cruel place, and no doubt you'll have to rely on yourself to survive. Who here has hunted before?'

Nearly half the class raised their hands, including Erwan, Lyra, and Haxios.

'Good, everyone doubles up with another student who's hunted before, those who do not have a hunting partner will join me.'

Daarion stood close to Erwan, excited yet nervous for his first hunting experience.

Elandiël pulled a large piece of thin rope from a crate under a tree. 'I'll show you a simple knot to trap a smaller animal, it can be used for any animal from a rabbit to squirrels to a bird, though birds are quite hard to catch with this knot.'

He showed them the knot multiple times and handed each student three pieces of rope.

'Your next item,' Elandiël said again, pulling a short knife from his side. 'Only a single student will be handed a knife, be careful, they're sharp. And if anyone is harmed with a knife by another student, they'll be sent home, thrown in prison, or worse. Use the knife to cut the throat of what you've caught, do it quickly, no animal wishes to suffer. It is acceptable that a pair of students do not bring back anything, however, you'll have more to learn the next lesson.'

The elf pulled two satchels from two different crates. And a book from another.

'This red satchel is for luring the animals, this yellow satchel is for eating. Do not waste any. Also, this book contains knowledge of forest life, including trees, plants, berries, and much more. Do not, for the love of the divines eat an unknown berry without studying it within this book. Although, just don't eat any bloody berry.'

The students grabbed their last gears.

'Lastly. If any student finds themselves lost, stay put. When the sun sets, we'll shoot fire arrows for you to follow.'

'Are there any predators?' Lyra asked with a shimmering excitement in her light, wide open eyes.

'There are none. Guards patrol this area all day, you'll find no predators within this forest. So, if everyone is ready, you may depart into the forest and bring back your kill. Return when the sun is highest and be certain on your return back to me that you've gathered all your traps.'

The students dispersed. Daarion and Erwan disappeared into the damp forest. The morning dew infested the glimmering grass at their feet.

'So have you killed anything before?' Daarion asked his friend.

'No,' Erwan said.

'I thought you've hunted before?'

'Aye I have, but only twice with my father.'

'Well-this will probably be harder than I thought.'

'Not likely,' Erwan grinned. 'Let's just set up the traps with the berries and have a good nap.'

'It's that easy?' Daarion looked over at his friend.

'Of course, trust me, Daarion.'

Daarion trusted Erwan's words. They set up the knots and placed the berries within. The two boys found a tree with large roots and broad leaves that covered them from the searing sun. They rested between the roots, catching up on their rudely interrupted sleep that cold morning.

'Erwan,' Daarion hovered over his friend, 'Erwan, wake up.'

'What is it now, Daarion?' Erwan groaned sleepily.

'It's almost mid-day.'

Erwan pulled himself up. 'It can't be,' he stared up; the sun was beaming down heavily from above.

'We should return after we've collected our hunt.'

'Let's see what we caught,' Erwan yawned.

They walked over, merely finding their ropes, untouched with the berries gone.

'Well, this isn't correct,' Erwan gazed at the empty knots. 'We should've gotten something at least.'

'What now?'

Erwan scratched his chin, then shrugged after giving a quick thought.

'What about those?' Daarion's eye caught a nest high up.

'That might work.'

The students steadily emerged from the forest. Elandiël sat on a cart, digging his teeth into a sweet plum.

Lyra and Yara approached with a fat old rabbit and a squirrel. The girls' fingers were coated with blood, marking their kills.

'Well done,' Elandiël said with a smile. 'Grab yourself a peach or plum from the crate over there, you've earned it.'

Haxios approached later with a large rat, dangling from his hip, strung up by its paw. Haxios's partner was a scrawny boy who seemed more interested in the clouds than their kill.

'Fine work,' Elandiël nodded at the sight of the rat. 'Have a peach or plum.'

Daarion and Erwan approached. Erwan stretched out his arm, dropping an egg into the elf's hand.

'You've brought me an egg?' Elandiël drew up his eyes slowly.

'Aye,' Erwan nodded strongly, 'it's a bird is it not?'

'Technically it is a bird,' Daarion sounded determined of his remark.

'This is an egg,' Elandiël leaned in, half bewildered and frustrated.

'If you don't approve of it,' Erwan said, 'it was his idea.'

Daarion slowly turned and tilted his head, slightly confounded. 'You said it was a good idea.'

'Aye, it's a good idea if we have nothing to show,' Erwan explained. 'It's better than nothing.'

'Well-it is,' Daarion said. 'And we've worked so hard on retrieving that.'

'Nearly all day,' Erwan smiled slyly.

'Enough,' Elandiël waved his hand. 'Return home, I've heard enough.'

'As you wish,' Erwan bowed with a slimmer of insurgent playfulness, Daarion followed-however not as brave as his friend.

'Erwan,' Daarion shook his friend, attempting to wake the sleeping boy. 'Erwan, wake up.'

Erwan groaned, swiping his hand away as he caressed his feathery soft pillow.

'Erwan,' Daarion shook again.

Erwan's eyes heavily opened, although only halfway. 'What is it now?'

'Fight me.'

Erwan turned, a bit demented, unable to make out the words his friend spoke. 'What?'

'Fight me.'

'Why would I do that? What time is it?'

'A bit past midnight.'

'Have you woken up with a bit of stupid? Go back to bloody sleep.'

'I thought you were born to be a Valkan.'

Erwan pushed himself up. 'How is fighting you at this hour proving anything?'

'Look,' Daarion dragged the book of Valkans closer. 'You see this? This Valkan... Clarice was her name, one of the best Valkans, also the prince's dragon nearly one hundred and twenty years ago. She woke all the best in the hostel to train with her until she defeated every single one of them. I want to do the same.'

'You do know that I'll defeat you every single time, right?'

'I know, I only want to land a hit. And after-I'll surely beat you.'

'You're certain of yourself, aren't you?'

'I have to be,' Daarion smiled. 'Otherwise, I won't be a Valkan.'

Erwan rubbed his droopy eyes. 'Very well, but only for a bit you hear me?'

Daarion nodded short and quick. The two clothed themselves in their training equipment, along with some fur padding for resistance to the cold-even if it was only a small bit of added warmth.

The door croaked; snoring students filled the hallway. They stepped lightly, not knowing if they were allowed to do this, they'd rather not find out with a scolding.

'Where are you two going?'

The two turned with a fright from the whispering girl, standing in her doorway.

'Yara,' Erwan whispered, attempting to dull his anger, 'you gave us a shitting fright.'

'Good,' Yara leaned on her doorframe, arms folded. 'Where are you two off to then?'

'Training,' Daarion said.

'At this hour?'

The two friends nodded.

'Oh, and what are you doing at this hour?' Erwan folded his arms in return.

'Studying,' she said proudly with a light smirk.

'Do we have a test tomorrow?' Daarion's voice broke nervously, not desiring to fail a single test.

She shook her head. 'Only to be ahead. But go on ahead, I won't stop you. Just be back to catch some sleep.'

The girl closed her door, finishing the last chapter of "To know a Glaistig" from their "Creatures and Spirits" book. A book given to the students on their first day of academic training. Though it is a lot of reading and quite a hefty book, the brown-haired girl did not mind learning more.

The two boys lit the torches, illuminating the training ground. The cold wind blew over, containing the smell of salt from the crashing ocean below. Guarding paladins merely threw an eye over at the two boys before returning to their post, they thought they might have a show tonight.

'Only until you've landed a hit on me, right?' Erwan asked as he grabbed a wooden longsword.

'Aye,' Daarion replied, strapping his arm on a wooden kite shield, and firmly gripping a wooden sword. 'But there's no letting me win.'

Erwan grinned, imitating an unguarded opponent. He quickly swung, Daarion stepped back, shocked at the sudden movement, and threw his shield up. The dark-haired boy fell, sand splashing on his face. The guarding paladins giggled, a show that they will get indeed.

'That was bloody fast,' Daarion pushed himself up, 'I wasn't ready.'

'Will you wait for your opponent to find his footing and make himself comfortable?' Erwan twirled his sword; he's clearly dabbled in the art of sword fighting before.

'I suppose not,' Daarion said softly.

'Come then, let's get this over with.'

Another swing, Daarion's shield vibrating, he countered only to find floating sand. Erwan pirouetted, thumping Daarion's leg, forcing the boy into the sand.

Daarion stood. 'Again.'

'Again.'

'Again.'

'Again.'

'Come now, Daarion,' Erwan breathed heavily, slouching over with his sore hands on his knees. 'We've been at this for hours, you're clearly not getting any better. My arms are heavy, my chest is burning, let's just go back inside and sleep for what little time we have left.'

'Not yet,' Daarion said slowly, sweat and spit soaking into the sand. 'Again, just once more.'

'You've said that before.'

'I lied the other times.'

Erwan stood, straightening himself and twirling his sword once more. 'Very well, once more.'

Daarion stood, knees shaking, palms swollen with blisters, hands covered in tiny splinters, and a breath-slowing. He eyed his friend before taking his stance, low and deep. Eyes hovering above his shield, like a crocodile ready to burst above and catch its prey. His sword, straight and resting. He waited. The wind was no longer cool, the ocean disappeared, the sand at his feet was no more, he only saw his friend's eyes, reading Erwan's steady movements. A swing, Daarion's shield blocked the blow, stepping to the side, swinging, a block from Erwan. The light-haired boy jumped to the side with a pirouette, only for the shield to block another blow. Daarion swung, blocked, he swung again only to find his sword whooshing through the air aimlessly-his friend spun out of harm's way, releasing a powerful blow. Daarion's eyes were quick, he knew the move, he knew the pain. He quickly ducked, throwing his shield upward, his friend's arm was struck with pain, Daarion kicked his friend's chest. Erwan fell, sand ruffled through his hair, Daarion jumped, throwing his shield aside for more speed. The wooden sword rested, this time floating above Erwan's neck.

Daarion's eyes widened. He smelled the ocean; he felt the breeze. 'I did it.' He stood, smiling, releasing a short soft laugh. And noticing the cheering paladins.

'Aye you did,' Erwan pushed himself up. 'Only took you a bloody generation. But nevertheless, well done Daarion.'

Silence. They breathed deeply, finally able to diminish Daarion's lesson.

'Look,' Daarion said, 'sun's coming up.'

Erwan quickly stood. 'Well... this day will be horrible, no thanks to you and your brilliant plan, Daarion. Next time I'll gladly beat the shit out of you.'

They nearly spent the full day dozing off for some minutes and shaking back awake. The wizard's dull lessons on spirits within the kingdoms did not aid in keeping them awake.

Their four hours ended, Daarion and Erwan's heavy eyes lit up, for they knew they could finally have some sleep. They slogged to the hostel, as of now it seemed miles away, and as they did Daarion saw the smart girl. He had to ask her, he knew he had to learn more, not of being a Valkan but of the world he lived in-and she knew a bit too much for someone her age.

'Yara,' Daarion called.

She turned, Lyra being at her side turned as well.

'Go on Erwan,' Daarion said.

'Oh, I'm already going,' Erwan said, 'I'm not waiting for you.'

'What is it Daarion?' Yara asked firmly.

'I didn't catch much of today's lesson.'

'No doubt thanks to your training,' Lyra smirked lightheartedly.

'Nothing escapes your mouth does it, Yara?' Daarion smiled.

'If you want more lessons join the next class,' Yara said.

'I'm too tired, my eyes can hardly stay open. Please, Yara.'

'Come Yara,' Lyra brushed her hair from her face as the wind violently blew through, 'there's no harm.'

'Very well,' Yara succumbed to her friend's words. 'I'll go through the work tonight, you're allowed to join.'

'I'll gladly be there,' Daarion smiled as he pulled away, 'but for now, I need some precious lost sleep.'

Daarion woke that evening, still a bit drowsy, but felt rested enough. Erwan snored softly; his arms entangled around his pillow.

Daarion gathered his "Creatures and Spirits" book and entered the silent hallway. He knocked cautiously on the girls' door, not attempting to disturb his fellow students.

She opened, stern as ever. 'Are you ready?'

'Aye,' Daarion smiled, lifting his book.

'Good,' Yara stepped aside, 'come in, forgive Lyra's mess, she was raised in the woods after all.'

'Not in the woods,' Lyra lifted her eyes from a book she was reading, 'well-not entirely.'

Lyra was fond of colourful flowers and strange rocks, which she gathered in her hunt with Yara and placed them within small pots surrounding her bed.

'Sit on my bed,' Yara lounged herself on her bed as well.

Daarion sat straight.

'So,' Yara opened her book, 'what did you last remember from the class today?'

'Well-Melga said we should open our books to "Wraiths," and that's when I completely lost track.'

'So essentially, nearly the whole lesson?' Yara asked, not sounding quite delighted in her tone.

Daarion nodded.

'Open to wraiths then.'

The first chapter began with a wraith at the front. A horrific drawing of an undead floating woman plastered herself on the very first page.

'What do you know about wraiths?' Yara asked.

'They're spirits,' Daarion answered.

'Nothing escapes your absolute endless wisdom does it, Daarion?' Lyra grinned. 'The book's bloody name is spirits and creatures.'

'She's right,' Yara gave a modest smile, 'so you know nothing of them as of yet?'

Daarion nodded faintly.

'As you can see,' Yara began, 'wraiths are undead spirits, hideous, and dangerous-to an extent. They were once human, most are women who died, desired to be loved, and sought to be cared for. Cursed, unable to rest until they've found peace and what they've longed for. A wraith wanders near the location where their bones lie and won't leave that spot. It will only appear within the hours that they died. Do not disturb this spirit, for it will undoubtedly kill you if you come within range. If you find yourself strolling within a forest and hear a shrieking with an icy wind blowing through, it's best to steer clear, it might be a wraith.'

Daarion listened intently, attempting to read the text as she spoke, but found that Yara had shortened the tedious text for the young boy.

'Now,' Yara continued, 'to free a wraith from its form and let it be at peace, you'll need to find the bones and give it a proper burial.'

'Sounds easy enough.'

'It does sound easy yes, but you'll first need to find the bones, which can be scattered or hidden. Then you'll need to bury it and give a lament, spoken with true affection. Remember wraiths are tortured souls that only desired to be loved and cared for, give them a simple moment of that and they'll be free.'

'What if you don't find the bones?'

'Well... you can fight it of course.'

'Fight it? With sword and all?'

Yara nodded.

'Aren't spirits unable to be harmed by physical objects?'

'The same goes for spirits, they cannot harm us in their spiritual forms. With wraiths, they'll need to step within our realm to harm us, then you'll be able to release them from their curse. But first, you'll need to-.'

'Piss them off?' Daarion quickly read further. 'Right?'

'Yes-you'll need to-piss them off.'

Daarion grinned.

'But in fighting them you do not give the satisfaction of being loved,' Yara said. 'Always look for the bones first.'

Daarion nodded. He never knew the land that he lived in had such horrific creatures, however, he didn't feel fear, more-so wonder of what else is hidden in the world.

'Now onto the glaistig,' Yara said again, turning pages in her book, 'turn to the chapter "To know a Glaistig."'

Daarion turned through the pages, finding the very chapter and a drawing of a woman sitting on a rock dressed in a long green dress, her upper body was elegant with long crimson hair, though the bottom half was more goat-like.

'This does not seem like a spirit,' Daarion said.

'Aye,' Yara said, 'some have said that she's more of a revenant, which is a spirit with a body. But even with her beauty, she is malicious-mostly to men though. She lives near water and the woods of farmlands. Her voice is beautiful and deceiving, in which she'll lure men into her lair, promising them a night of passion and a union between them.'

'Like a siren?' Daarion quickly said. 'I've heard sirens lead men to their doom as well.'

'That is true, however sirens are more mermaid-like and will mostly do it out of amusement. With a glaistig, she'll judge whoever comes within her path and hear the screams of whom the person has wronged past forgiveness. And with that, she'll bind them to a rock or tree and torture them to a painful death, sucking their blood and taking bites out of her victims as they feel the icy cold winds blow over them for days. And within the last moments of the victim's moments, she'll slit their throat. However, even if you do think that her actions are good deeds, most of the folk she kills become ghouls.'

'Ghouls?' Daarion drew his eyes up. 'They're undead people, right?'

'Not entirely,' Yara scratched her head, attempting to remember all she knows of ghouls. 'Ghouls are tortured souls trapped within bodies; unforgivable sins and can only be set at peace with a painful death. I do only know a small bit about ghouls, but I am certain we will learn more of those creatures. But for now, back to the glaistig.'

Daarion nodded, turning back to the scriptures.

'A glaistig, with her ferocity and malice, is quite fond and kind to children. If a child is trapped within a forest, she'll lure them out. Or if a child is mourning, she'll sing to them.'

'Well,' Daarion began to grin, 'luckily we'll be unharmed then.'

'Careful, Daarion,' Yara said, 'you'll be a man someday.'

'Or he won't,' Lyra chipped in with a smile, 'maybe he'll stay a child forever.'

'A glaistig!' Yara said, reverting the attention back to herself. 'A glaistig roam near farmlands. And if you find yourself to be unable to look after your livestock while you go into town or anything of the sorts-you can leave a jug of milk at the edge of your farmstead, and the glaistig will happily look after the livestock.'

'Well, that's quite kind,' Daarion said.

'So are many spirits. Every spirit has a reason for what they do, they're not always created evil-some only want love, some only desire peace, and some are fond of children and milk. It is our duty to know them, share a bond with them and find a tie of peace within our people and them. It's not always about fighting and killing with spirits, with a glaistig; it's rather best to acknowledge them and go on your way.'

The evening went on for quite some long hours. Yara taught Daarion more about spirits as Lyra dozed off. Yara went more into other spirits such as banshees, which are spirits who carry the dead souls to the halls of the afterlife, where they shall join in their fathers' and mothers' mighty company. She also taught the young boy about nymph spirits; being protectors of the woods and preserving nature within forests itself. However, they are frightened by the sight of humans, elves, and dwarves, and choose not to even show themselves near them.

Lastly, she taught the now tired Daarion about sprites; small, rare creatures with dragonfly wings roaming the elven woods of Reliath. Harmless in every way, they only seek a peaceful life without any fret.

That evening Daarion came to his room where Erwan hardly changed position in his bed. Daarion didn't change clothing, he thumped onto his bed and immediately fell asleep.

Some weeks passed. Daarion and Erwan had decided that they'd train every third day under moonlight. In the forging lessons, Daarion joined the second class that attended after his own. Though Daarion enjoyed it at first, he found that attending the second class will tire him immensely, making his arms melt with the heavy beating of hammer onto steel. He was not fond of the constant heat from the burning coals as well, yet he endured his temporary pain, for he knew that in time he would be better at what he was attempting to achieve. But he also decided that he'll merely attend every second day's second class, to rest his weary body.

A week after, hunting and foraging came at full. The students again came at an early hour to the site where Elandiël stood with crates at the edge of the forest.

'Good morning students,' Elandiël said, hands on his hips as he stood with a fine stature before them.

The students mumbled with their own "good morning" with their best attempts.

Elandiël shook his head. 'By now I've figured you all to be up and ready with the number of classes you're attending.'

Luckily for Erwan and Daarion, they weren't as tired as the others, only thanks to their schedule to train up to an early hour.

'For your lesson today,' Elandiël continued, 'you'll enter the forest, place those nooses I taught you weeks back within the forest, and bring me something of note. And this time, not a bloody egg. Those who have not killed an animal before, pair with someone who has. This lesson is of respect, not of respect for yourself, but respect for what's within the forest. Make certain you do not waste a pure and beautiful life without giving it the respect it deserves. Go on then, grab your rations, grab your berries, and bring me an animal-a dead one preferably.'

Lyra and Yara readied themselves as Daarion jogged closer.

'You two going together again?' Daarion asked.

'What of it?' Yara snarled.

'The thing is,' Daarion said, 'I've not killed anything yet.'

'And you'd wish to join us?' Yara asked.

'No, only Lyra.'

Lyra jerked her head back as she was gathering her ropes.

'She seems like she's hunted before,' Daarion said again, 'I do need experience.'

'What?' Erwan interrupted from behind. 'I'm not good enough?'

Daarion smiled. 'You are, but I just need to join someone who knows what they're doing.'

Erwan narrowed his eyes. 'And who will I join?'

'Us,' Yara dragged Haxios near; the older boy was not quite ecstatic with the girl pulling on him so vigorously.

'You two?' Erwan giggled. 'A librarian and an oversized bear cub? I'd rather go by myself.'

'That sounds like a good idea,' Elandiël spoke, overhearing the whole group's discussion. 'Maybe you'll actually learn something this time, Erwan.'

'But we'll be three in a group,' Erwan retorted.

'Will you be?' Elandiël smirked as he gave the sly insult.

'Very well,' Lyra finally said. 'Come Daarion, let's go hunting.'

Daarion gathered his rations, berries, and rope, and proceeded to follow the girl within the forest, not without Haxios peering over his shoulder as the light-haired girl disappeared under the shadows of trees. The older boy did not notice his smile as he looked upon Lyra.

'What are you bloody smiling about?' Erwan asked.

'Nothing,' Haxios quickly hid his smile.

'Nothing hey?' Erwan walked forward. 'Only idiots smile about nothing. Come on then, follow me.'

The two followed Erwan into the forest.

The leaves crushed under Daarion and Lyra's boots from the creeping winter. Though Evandurians are quite proficient in the snowy weather, they're not as adept as the dwarves from the icy mountains of Ûndast.

'Place a trap here, Daarion,' Lyra said as she knelt down above a pile of leaves.

Daarion knelt, placing the trap.

'Now put some fruits down,' Lyra said again, 'but crush them first.'

Daarion crushed the fruits in his hands, sopping his gloves. 'Does crushing them help in any way?'

'I'd like to believe so. The smells come through much better.'

'Where'd you learn all this?'

'The elves.'

'Elves?' Daarion seemed a bit muddled.

'Aye,' Lyra nodded, 'the elves of Reliath trained me to hunt and all that. But they're much better than I will ever wish to be.'

'How'd you come by the elves?' Daarion asked. 'I thought they would only train their kin?'

'Some years back, I ran away from my home. We lived in a village, and I was upset with my parents on some matter that I can't even remember. As I ran into the forest, I lost my way. And as the tears began to set on my face, I saw them. Elves all around. They were silent, silent in a way that you'd not even notice them, but they were kind. They led me home. My parents were more pleased than mad at me. And when I thought all was well the elves requested something. They saw our poor village and appealed to let them train me to feed the village. My parents gave the nod, and they trained me for three years-and now I'm here.'

'Never knew them to be kind to others,' Daarion said.

'They're kind to nearly all life, all you need is ask.'

Daarion nodded slightly, staring at the soggy berries.

'Come now,' Lyra stood, 'we should plant the next traps and get a fire going.'

Daarion followed, laying the traps under leaves, and drenching them in berries. They huddled between large roots, and Lyra expertly lit a fire with a flint given to the students among their ropes.

As soon as Daarion's eyes began to fail him, Lyra jumped.

'Did you hear that?' she asked.

'No, what was it?'

'The noose got one, come.'

They sprinted through the thick trees, leaves flowing behind them.

'Look,' Lyra pointed.

An orange and muddy rabbit flashed about, unable to retreat with the rope clutching its hind leg. The two neared.

'Have you killed anything yet, Daarion?'

'No,' Daarion felt a chill with a heavy thump of his heart.

'You will today, come, kneel.'

Lyra jumped forward, grasping the hare by the neck.

'Do you know how to kill a rabbit?'

Daarion shook his head, his mouth dry.

'Take the legs and the neck,' Lyra began mimicking movements, 'press firmly at the neck and pull the rabbit at full length. Then pull as quickly and as hard as you can on the neck, you'll feel a snap. Come.'

'I can't do this, Lyra,' Daarion slowly withdrew.

'You're here to be a Valkan are you not?' Lyra had kind eyes; her voice was soft. 'I know how you feel, but we are here to be the best. But if you show this animal the respect it deserves, all will be well.'

Daarion hesitated before reaching his arms out. The hare was soft in his hands, he felt the beating heart in his palm as he gripped the neck.

'I should pull?' Daarion's hands shook uncontrollably.

Lyra nodded. 'But do it quickly and with force, don't let it suffer.'

Daarion stared at the hare's racing eyes, unable to escape the clutch from the boy's hand. He took a breath. Pull. Snap. The hare fell limp, its heartbeat faded. Daarion felt a sting in his nose before light tears dampened his eyes. His long locks fell over his face, covering himself.

'The elves say, "if you feel something in death-there is a soul,"' Lyra placed her hand on the quivering boy's hand. 'You've shown respect. The elves would be proud.'

They sat in silence for a moment. She did not leave his side, for she knew the courage it takes to take an innocent life.

Wooden swords cracked and splintered. A shield thumped. Erwan swung and slashed. Daarion blocked and countered. Two growing warriors under the night sky with paladins as audience.

'Come on Erwan,' Daarion smirked, 'where's your big mouth now.'

Erwan slashed. Daarion stepped aside, thumping the light-haired boy with shield, throwing Erwan off balance.

'You've gotten all bold and cocky I see,' Erwan smiled back.

'I had a good teacher.'

Their swords cracked repeatedly from a flurry of swift attacks.

Paladins rushed to position.

'What is that?' Erwan said.

Her bare feet stroked the grass as she approached in a light lime gown.

'Oh!' Erwan said quickly. 'Should we bow?'

'No,' Daarion smiled as she neared.

'I think we should bow.'

'There's no need.'

'I'm bowing.'

She stood before them, pulling away her messy dark locks.

Erwan took a breath and bowed low with his hand on his chest. Daarion merely gave a slight bow of his head.

'There's no need to bow,' Tessriel said in her kind voice.

'I told you,' Daarion grinned.

'Shut it,' Erwan said.

'What brings you here at this late hour, princess?' Daarion asked.

'Well,' she began, 'I was sleeping for a bit, then I woke with a loud horrendous ruckus-that might've not been you two?'

'I'm not certain,' Daarion smirked, 'was it us, Erwan?'

'No,' Erwan scratched his head as if in thought, 'I don't think it was.'

'It might've been the wind princess,' Daarion said, smiling with his friend.

'The wind?' Tessriel folded her arms.

The two nodded high and low.

'All right,' Tessriel said with a smile, 'Erwan, go back to sleep. I wish to speak with Daarion for a moment.'

Erwan threw down his wooden sword. 'You've just saved me, princess. I haven't had a good night's sleep in months thanks to this fopdoodle here. Goodnight, princess.'

Erwan bowed his head, trotting off to his bed.

'A fine friend you have there,' she said.

'Aye,' he smiled, 'even if he has a big mouth.'

'Come, walk with me.'

They stretched their legs beside the cliff, overlooking the starry ocean. Paladins kept close by, not allowing the two to wander close to the edge.

'Are you allowed to be out at this hour?' he asked.

'No,' she brushed her flowing hair from her face.

'Won't the paladins do anything?'

'What can they do? Tell my mother? She'll just roll her eyes and say something along the lines of "thank you for wasting my time with this dull matter.'"

'So, what brings you here, princess?'

'Just to talk to someone who isn't a servant, or the council, or my mother,' she said.

'The counsel? Isn't the counsel the king's advisors?'

'They are-and they aren't at the same time. They're more like teachers to me and my brother. My mother thought it'd be a fine idea to learn about our kingdom, however, my father drags my brother to hunts every chance he comes by, and that's nearly every day. But enough of the council, I'm more interested in your trials. How have you faired as of yet?'

'At first, it was not as I expected. But as of now... it's tough, it's harsh, not only the training, but the forging, and especially sitting behind books. Luckily, I have Yara for that. But it's been quite a tough year overall.

'Yara, who's she?' she asked, with a slimmer of concerning jealousy in her eyes.

'Oh, she helps me with my studies. I didn't know anyone could be that smart, but later I found out that she came from the great library of Heldôr. She grew up there and all.'

'It's good that you made some friends,' she said softly.

'I think so too, I've learned a lot from them.'

'And what about the forging?' she asked. 'Oh, and the hunting, it must be some thrill going into the forest and learning all, from bark to dirt, from worm to the largest predator.'

'As for the forging, it's tough, not that it's too hard to learn techniques. It has quite the precision built into it, making a single mistake can cost a whole piece that requires to be done all over again-or that's what Ûlma has taught us. The hunting however, it's calm, refreshing, and mostly cold. Elandiël is composed, teaching us to be silent, to listen, and act when necessary. His teachings are difficult to learn, luckily I have Lyra as a friend, she was taught by the elves after all.'

'Lyra?' her voice cracked in the whistling air. 'She's quite fortunate to have had elves as teachers.'

'Aye, and her spirit never dampens.'

A cold breeze howled over. The princess hugged herself for warmth.

'You might need to come inside, princess,' a paladin said from behind, not only for the princess's sake, but his own if anything happens to the queen's daughter.

She nodded. 'I guess this is where I'm off.'

'It's good to see you again, Tessriel,' Daarion smiled broadly, 'but please, come by more often, we can do with a few new faces.'

'I wish I could, but we are not allowed. They say it's a distraction.'

'Well then,' Daarion gave a bow of his head. 'Until we see each other again, Tess.'

She smiled, turned away, and was escorted back into the castle doors. Daarion's eyes did not falter, his eyes were only on her. A sight that he wished to see more of. And the boy began to fall-for her.

The night came. The night Daarion knew he should push onward and beyond himself. The night of the last day of their first year. He did not wake Erwan, nor did he attend a lesson at Yara. He rather knocked on the bedroom door beside their room.

Haxios opened, after a year's worth of training, the older boy was much taller and stronger than Daarion.

'What is it, Daarion?' Haxios said, his voice already showing signs of coming of age.

'I want you to fight me,' Daarion said strongly, not showing any weakness in his voice.

Haxios smirked. 'You don't want this fight. Go back to sleep.'

'I do,' Daarion stepped closer, 'I need it.'

'Why?'

'I need to be better.'

'Aye I agree you need to be better, but why me? There are hundreds of children here, ask one of them.'

'I need to fight the best. I need to train against you, to learn.'

'If I fight you, will you leave me alone?'

'For a night or two, yes.'

Haxios stepped forward. 'You're already pissing me off, more than usual. You better not come by again.'

'Why not?' Daarion stepped closer again, eyeing the larger boy. 'What will you do? Fight me? I'll gladly accept it.'

Haxios ground his teeth. 'Very well. Come then, let me teach you a lesson.'

Haxios gripped a large wooden axe in his palms, spitting in the sand. Daarion stood ready, peering over his shield. Haxios smiled before leaping forward, not as quick as Erwan, but much stronger, and with fierce energy within that Daarion felt as he managed to escape the attack. Daarion slashed-Haxios stood firm, not blocking, not stepping aside, he caught the wooden sword in his hand. Daarion's eyes widened, for he knew a beating was slithering closer. He released his sword, stepping back. Haxios stood tall, lifting his axe high. A thud, a crack, splinters. Daarion fell, throwing his broken shield aside, clutching at his left arm. Daarion barred his teeth in pain. Broken? No, just pain, rather pain that Daarion had not felt in training. Haxios had no remorse; he stepped closer. Daarion stood, making himself thin, and hiding his left arm behind himself, doing so he made a fist with his strong hand, not backing away from his foe. Haxios smirked again and threw his axe aside, making fists as well. Daarion leaped, throwing a slow punch. Haxios simply stepped aside. The older boy pulled his fist back, releasing a blow to Daarion's gut; a fowl pain, Daarion's breath was stolen. Before Daarion could stand back up, another punch came through. Daarion fell, sand swashed aside, making a fine crater for the younger boy. Blood poured from his nose that he did not notice at first.

Haxios huffed with a smile. 'Lesson over.'

'Wait,' Daarion pushed himself up with his single hand. 'I'm not done yet.'

Haxios turned, and a familiarity struck him. He frowned, not out of confusion, but out of the pure spirit to fight.

'Come back here,' Daarion mumbled as he made a fist, 'I'm not done yet.'

'Yes, you are,' Haxios's voice dampened for a moment, for he did not see a harmless young child, but a boy who will keep on fighting even if the odds are utterly against him. 'Come back tomorrow night. I'll teach you my ways.'

Daarion shook. He fell to his knees, breathing painfully through his nose. He wiped away and sat-he sat for what seemed hours to himself, embracing the cool winds, and dreaming of her, only for a distraction from the pain.

Daarion knocked on the door. Haxios opened.

'How's your nose?' the older boy asked as he left his room with little sound, being cautious not to wake the other students.

'It still hurts a bit,' Daarion answered as he followed.

'Apologies, I sometimes get carried away.'

They grabbed their weapons and took stances.

'I'll teach you how I'm always better, it's not always about strength,' Haxios grunted, 'but for now, we spar.'

They fought slowly, rather than overworking they did their common exercises against one another from their normal training. One attacked, and the other blocked and countered. One attacked and the other parried. The nearby paladins quickly lost interest as they saw the two boys simply guiding each blow.

'Take a quick breath, Daarion.'

'I'm not tired.'

'Then we'll proceed in a moment. But first, you'll need to learn how to read your opponent, feel them.'

'Feel them?' Daarion raised his eyebrow.

'Aye,' Haxios scratched his chin in thought, enabling himself to piece his words together as best he could. It was his first lesson as a teacher after all. 'You'll be able to feel their emotions, their intensity, their intentions.'

Daarion stared at Haxios, confused.

'I know it sounds odd but trust me.'

'And how am I supposed to feel their emotions?'

'Study their body, look in their eyes, it's quite the skill to learn-but in mastering it you'll be a fine warrior. Now come, let us begin.'

Daarion slid his feet deep into the sand, standing low and steady. Haxios stretched his neck. The older boy swung fiercely at the younger boy. Daarion slid aside, avoiding the attack, and attacked with a swing. Haxios parried, flung his great axe, crashing against the shield with force. Daarion swung again, Haxios blocked, pulled away, and hooked his axe on the edge of Daarion's shield. The older boy pulled quickly, disarming Daarion. Haxios punted the boy with the lower pommel of his axe on Daarion's chest, shoving the boy into the sand.

'You've fought Erwan too many times,' Haxios stepped aside calmly. 'You can't fight me as you fought him. He's nimble and-elegant, I'm not.'

Daarion stood, dusting off his hands.

'I'll come at you with all I have,' Haxios continued, 'it's your job to stop me. You'll need to be a wall, you can't be scared of me. It's good that you've learned how to dodge and all that from Detla and Erwan, now you must meet your foe head-on.'

'It's easier said when you're a giant,' Daarion said.

Haxios smiled. 'Do you know where I'm from?'

Daarion shrugged, purely out of frustration and not much care, he only desired the boy's lesson. Though he would rather hear Haxios' upbringing, out of politeness.

'I'm from Spaldôr, Daarion.'

'The independent kingdom?' Daarion asked quickly. Haxios made the young boy rather interested in a few words, for he read about the kingdom's systematic efficiency in war and politics.

'Kingdom,' Haxios huffed with a smirk of scorn, 'more of a large region rather than a kingdom. But yes, from the independent land. But do you know how we won our independence?'

Daarion shook his head slightly, trying to remember the texts he read.

'Long before we were born, there was a war, my people fought bravely against the armies of Evanduria. My people won. My people fought with all they had. They fought as one, they fought for what they dreamt of-but most importantly, they fought with rage. The most important rule to learn in Spaldôr is to hone your rage. Not to be confused with wrath. Wrath is violence, rage drives you forward, it's at the back of your head as you strive to be greater.'

'But I have nothing to be angry about,' Daarion said.

'You don't?'

Haxios rushed forward, swinging his axe, whooshing past Daarion's head as the boy quickly dodged. Daarion picked up his shield just before another blow struck his shield. Haxios kicked the boy to the ground, circling the young boy like a hungry shark.

'You're a bloody orphan, Daarion-and a shit one at that,' Haxios growled at the boy before releasing another attack.

Daarion leaped away, nearly getting thumped again. Haxios stepped to the side, broad and low-whoosh, splinters, sand.

'You were thrown away like a bucket of piss,' Haxios punched the boy across the face, opening the previous night's bloody nose.

Daarion pushed himself to his knees, groaning all the way.

'Nobody wants you. Your father didn't want you. Your brother didn't want you. You even killed your own mother.'

Daarion felt it. A burning within. His teeth, clenched. His bloody nose, long forgotten and unfeeling. He turned, eyes of a dragon. Sword in hand, he flashed forward, not caring for another painful blow. Haxios stepped back, knowing he woke a feeling within. His axe flowed with an attack but found no target, for the black-haired boy slid, sand splashed beneath their feet. Daarion's sword knew no such power before, he struck Haxios's arm, relieving the brown-haired boy's axe. Daarion was not done yet. He jumped with a punch. Haxios met the sand for the first time. Daarion punched, and punched, and punched. Haxios felt pain, a pain he's not felt in over a year. Blood splattered, Haxios's blood. Daarion's face, fowl and sorrowful-now splattered with drops of blood.

'Daarion, stop.'

He did not halt his attack.

'Daarion!' Haxios pulled back with a punch of his own, allowing him to breathe as the dark-haired boy fell beside him. 'I said stop.'

Cold.

Silence.

Breaths.

'I'm sorry, Haxios,' Daarion's eyes filled with tears. Cries, of sorrow. Cries of truth.

'No,' Haxios swallowed, 'I'm sorry, Daarion.'

'What you said is true,' Daarion whimpered. 'I'm nothing.'

Haxios pushed himself up, sitting beside Daarion. 'I pushed too far. Know that what I said, I did not truly mean any of what I said.'

Whimpers.

'I only wished to see how far you can go,' Haxios said. 'And I'm impressed. Though I am deeply regretful for my words-but know that you have rage within yourself, use it.'

Daarion looked up, seeing a stretched-out hand before him.

'Come, Daarion,' Haxios said, 'sit with me for a moment.'

Daarion pushed himself up; his hands digging into the cold sand.

'You should know, Daarion-I was raised in a purely military kingdom. From the age of eight, I was raised to fight and kill, being the son of the lord of Spaldôr didn't help much either. All that I do, well-it's thanks to my people.'

Daarion sat forward, wiping his hair from his face. 'Why'd you leave?'

Haxios was quiet for a moment, breathing deeply before uttering another word. 'When they trained us, they sometimes had these tests, where they'll force you to battle against a warrior of our land. On the last day, I was there, I had that very challenge. I had it before, so I gathered my weapons and in front of me was a man, clad in full armour. Without hardly being able to react, he hurtled towards me, disarming me. He beat me, not the common beating and letting go, no, he beat me bloody, and after a while my arms couldn't move. I was thrown on the grass and the warrior took off his helm-my father.' Haxios's voice broke, followed by tears of a broken boy. 'My own bloody father.'

Daarion heard the misery in the boy's voice, in his cries. He turned his head at Haxios. 'At least one thing came of it. If you hadn't left, we wouldn't be friends.'

Haxios wiped his tears. 'I'm your friend?'

'Well, yes, as of now I'd say. Or I'd like to wish so.'

Haxios smiled, a smile uncommon from the brooding boy. 'I'm glad to be here with you, Daarion. For someone who struggles with lessons, you're good at listening.'

Laughter.

Silence.