From that day on, Finn's life changed dramatically. Every morning, on his way to the arena, he noticed how the elves' attitude toward him was shifting. If the path to the training grounds had once been quiet and lonely, now it was completely different.
"Good morning, Finn!" an elf-archer called out to him, his bowstring faintly shimmering with moonlight. "May I join you?"
Before Finn could even nod, an elf-maiden with long silver hair appeared from the other side, her single-edged sword glinting on her belt:
"I'm coming too! I want to see how you fight today."
By the time they reached the arena, a sizable group of elves was already following Finn. They settled onto the stone benches, speaking quietly amongst themselves, sharing guesses about whom Eva would choose for today's duel.
"They say it will be Taryn today," someone whispered. "No,no, I heard it's Morwen," argued another.
The first after Lim was Sarin—a tall elf with a long single-edged sword. He moved so fast he seemed like a blur in the air. His tactic was simple: to end the fight as quickly as possible, exhausting his opponent with a flurry of blows.
"Come on, little one," he sneered, circling Finn, "show us what the heir is capable of."
But Finn did not rise to the provocation. After a few minutes, Sarin's attacks became slower and his breathing heavier. That's when Finn went on the offensive.
The next day, his opponent was Mirta—a short elf-maiden whose fighting style resembled a dance more than combat. She did not attack—she spun, dodged, forcing her opponent to miss and tire from his own blows.
"You must learn to see the rhythm of the fight," she said after Finn managed to catch the moment and land a decisive strike. "Every movement has its own melody."
Day after day, Finn faced new opponents. Each was strong in their own way; each taught him something new. There was Corwin, who relied on the brute force of his sword, and Liriel, whose thrusts were precise and deadly. There was Taryn, capable of changing the rhythm of the fight in an instant, and Neris, whose speed could rival that of a flying arrow.
But what surprised Finn the most was the reaction of those who lost. None of them were angry or upset. On the contrary, every one of his achievements was met with sincere joy, as if his victories were their shared success.
"You know," Taryn said one day after an especially difficult duel, "we waited for so many years, not knowing exactly who we were looking for. And now, looking at you, I understand—it was worth it."
Finn did not know how to respond. He was simply doing what he knew how to do—fighting, learning, trying to become better. But for these beings, his every step, every victory, was a confirmation of the rightness of their centuries-long wait.
The crowd on the benches grew larger every day. Elves came to watch the duels, their bows glowing softly in the arena's gloom, their swords glinting whenever rare rays of light fell on their blades.
And Finn continued to fight. When an opponent was faster—he tried to increase the pace, to outrun them in speed. When stronger—he looked for weak points. When more cunning—he relied on intuition. He won, time and again. Every fight was hard, but Finn adapted.
In the evenings, returning to his dwelling, he would often stop and look at the glowing core of the great tree. Its light, soft and steady, reminded him of how much he still had to learn, how many secrets this ancient people held, and what a responsibility rested on his shoulders—to be the one they had waited for so long. But the boy was glad to be here; he did not know how humans lived. Surely they had different customs, training, meals—their whole life was different. And Finn's life at that moment seemed special.
One day, the usual routine of training was disrupted. As Finn and his constant group of supporters were approaching the arena, a noise came from the direction of the cave's main entrance. The elves instantly froze, their hands automatically reaching for the hilts of their swords.
A familiar figure appeared in the dim light—it was Adam, but his usually impeccable appearance now caused alarm. His clothes were torn and stained, scratches were visible on his face, and his movements held a fatigue uncharacteristic of elves.
Eva, standing at the edge of the arena, was the first to notice his arrival. Her single-edged sword clinked softly against the stone as she swiftly moved toward the returned settlement leader. The other elves stood still, not moving from their spots—this was how they showed respect for their leader.
"Today's duels are canceled," Eva said curtly over her shoulder, supporting Adam by the arm.
Finn noticed that the settlement leader was limping slightly on his right leg. His silver hair, usually neatly styled, was now disheveled and in places matted with something dark. The staff, which always emitted a soft radiance, was now barely glowing, as if its power was almost exhausted.
Driven by curiosity and concern, Finn quietly moved to follow Eva and Adam. He tried to stay in the shadows, as he had learned from the elves, stepping cautiously on the stone floor. His group of admirers remained behind; no one dared to follow him.
"...they were everywhere," fragments of the conversation reached him. Adam's voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been shouting or running for a long time. "I didn't think it would happen this soon..." "Hush,"Eva's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "First, you need to rest."
Finn pressed himself against the wall as they passed one of the glowing crystals. In its flickering light, Adam's wounds looked even more serious. The boy had never seen the settlement leader look so... vulnerable. Always composed and majestic, he now more closely resembled a wounded warrior who had miraculously returned from the battlefield.
"We must tell the others," Adam muttered, trying to stop. "They need to know..." "Later,"Eva replied firmly, continuing to lead him forward. "Right now, the main thing is..."
Their voices grew quieter as they turned a corner, heading toward Adam's private chambers. Finn stopped, not daring to go any further. Something had happened out there, outside. Something serious enough to make the most powerful mage return in such a state.