As the morning sun painted the village hills in gold, a silent sorrow appeared on the dusty roads. Today was not just a farewell but the beginning of a new journey. The villagers had gathered in the square, standing before Altan, Llyn, and Master Thalor. Yet, no one spoke loudly. Their farewells were offered only with their eyes.
Llyn stood in the middle of the village, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. The stone paths, the crackling fire in the hearth, the hill where they watched the stars, the trails where children laughed and ran – everything passed before her eyes one by one.
She wasn't born here, but she felt as if she always belonged to this place.
"Strange…" she whispered. "This place feels like home."
Altan smiled when he heard her. "Because you belong here too."
Llyn averted her eyes, but deep inside, she was glad to hear that.
Then, a small figure darted out from the crowd: Altan's little sister. Trying to hold back her tears, she threw herself into Altan's arms.
"Don't cry," Altan said, gently stroking her hair. "Don't remember me like this. Be strong."
She said nothing, only nodded and held him tighter.
At that moment, their mother stepped forward. In her hand was a finely woven necklace. Her voice trembled as she placed the necklace around Altan's neck.
"My mother gave this to me when I was your age. Now it's yours. Let it protect you."
Altan took a deep breath but couldn't speak. The words were stuck in his throat.
Then he turned to Llyn and hugged her tightly.
"You're a part of us now. And you always will be."
Llyn bowed her head. "I'm grateful. I've never had… a family like this before."
She gently held his hand and then pulled out a long, elegant bow. It was beautifully crafted, with carvings etched into its wood.
"This was my father's. But now, it should be yours."
Llyn took the bow with trembling hands. Her eyes sparkled with emotion. "Thank you… I'll never forget this."
Then Altan's father stepped out of the crowd. In his hand was a small, black box. He handed the box to Altan without saying a word.
When Altan opened it, his eyes widened. Inside was a silver emblem, engraved with an intricate design of a sword and flame intertwined.
Altan whispered, "Is this… real?"
His father silently nodded. "In time, you'll understand what it means. But it belongs to you."
The silence that followed was broken by a deep voice.
"So… you've kept all this hidden all along."
Master Thalor was looking at Altan's father. His eyes caught a faint glimpse of an old cloak beneath the man's coat; something from long ago, once shared among warriors.
The father said nothing, simply meeting Thalor's gaze.
Thalor turned to Altan, his expression serious.
"You're luckier than you think, boy. But remember, luck is only the beginning. The rest… comes with effort."
Altan didn't respond. He simply took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the legacy on his shoulders. This wasn't just a journey; it was the inheritance of something far greater.
Thalor turned and began walking. Llyn took one last look at the village. Her eyes were wet, but she held back her tears. As she glanced at the elderly women, the children, the young men, she smiled.
"Goodbye…" she whispered. "I'll always remember you."
And so, the steps began. As the three walked away from the village, only watching eyes and the gentle morning breeze remained behind.
"Can you look back one last time before we leave?" Llyn asked, walking beside Altan.
Altan didn't answer. He kept walking. He glanced over his shoulder at the now-invisible silhouette of the village, but he didn't stop.
Llyn had grown used to his silence. But this time, it felt different.
"I made them a promise," Altan finally said. "I'll grow stronger."
Thalor, walking ahead with the crunch of dry branches beneath his feet, didn't turn back or speak. For him, this was an ordinary journey. But for Altan, it wasn't.
At a bend in the road, Llyn chuckled softly. "Honestly… I never thought I'd find myself on this path. I only came to the village to deal with a kid."
Altan smiled. "And I never thought you'd be the one crying by the well."
"I wasn't crying!" Llyn protested, her voice rising. "It was just… the wind in my eyes."
Altan raised an eyebrow. "Wind… in your eyes?"
Thalor suddenly stopped. Both of them fell silent immediately. Thalor turned, his eyes locking onto Altan.
"You're making noise," he said. "Do you want an army on your tail tomorrow? Or an assassin the day after?"
Altan straightened up. "No, Sir."
"Your tongue must be as sharp as your blade. Speak when necessary. Stay silent when it's not."
Llyn rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, he doesn't even speak when he should."
Thalor turned to her too. "And you… must learn silence."
The walk continued. No one spoke for a while. But by the end of the day, when they reached a small clearing, Thalor stopped.
"This will do," he said, pulling a small, folded map from his pocket. "Tomorrow, we head for the northern forests. But tonight… this is your first camp."
Altan and Llyn quietly scanned the area. Llyn crouched down and pulled a small knife from her bag. Altan began securing the perimeter.
Thalor watched but didn't interfere.
Altan placed thorny branches around the edges. Llyn carefully arranged stones. A small fire was lit. Finally, Thalor spoke again, his voice softer this time.
"At least you're willing to learn."
As night fell, Llyn examined the bow in her hands. Her fingers traced the carved patterns along its grip. Altan touched the necklace his mother had given him, then looked at Thalor.
"Why do you think my father gave me that box now?"
Thalor half-closed his eyes. "Because some things… are not given before the journey begins. Everything has its time."
Llyn lowered her head toward the fire. "Sometimes… they're never given. You just keep waiting."
Altan grew quiet. Then, with a faint smile, he looked at Llyn. "I won't wait anymore."
Llyn looked surprised. "That's the most decisive thing I've ever heard you say."
Altan was serious. "Because now I know what I want. And who I am."
At that moment, Thalor stood up. "Good. Then stand up. A campsite isn't just for rest."
Both of them stared at him in confusion.
"Training?" Llyn asked. "Now?"
Thalor didn't answer. He pulled two short wooden sticks from his belt and tossed them to Altan.
"Defense. If you can complete the last three moves, it's a good start."
Altan chuckled. "Only three? That's nothing."
Thalor smiled – dangerously.
"We'll see."
Altan gripped the sticks and stood up. When Thalor attacked, only the sound of the wind could be heard. Altan dodged the first move, fell on the second, and failed the third.
Thalor's stick stopped just above his eyebrow.
"Two and a half," he said.
Altan was out of breath. "That wasn't fair…"
"Life isn't fair."
Llyn laughed. "That doesn't count!"
Thalor turned to her. "Your turn."
Llyn backed away. "I… don't think I'm ready."
"No one ever is," Thalor said. "But you fight anyway."
And that night, with pain, laughter, and truths, they tasted the first lesson of real training. They had started as strangers. But by dawn… they had become travelers sharing the same fire.
End of Chapter Note:
The swords have not yet clashed. The enemy has not yet shown itself. But every journey begins with the first step. Altan no longer hesitates. Llyn no longer hides in the shadows. And Thalor, more than just a master, is someone who knows the darkest truths of the path ahead. And the first lesson… has just begun.