That night, the three of them sat together for dinner.
Haldof, Abraham, and Ashrel gathered around the simple wooden table. The cottage was quiet except for the soft clink of spoons against bowls and the low crackle of firewood in the hearth. The peace felt almost fragile as if something unseen had already begun to shift.
Then Haldof spoke.
"It is time to end this training, Abraham."
The words fell heavily.
Abraham froze. Ashrel looked up at once. Abraham's face paled.
"Why?" he asked quickly. "Is it because I still can't use magic? Is it because I failed?"
Ashrel turned to Haldof, brows drawn. "Did he make a mistake?"
Haldof sighed, then gave a small amused smile.
"Peace, both of you. This has nothing to do with failure." His gaze rested on Abraham. "It has to do with something far greater. I believe it is time for you to begin your journey."
"My… journey?" Abraham repeated.
"I contacted an old friend regarding you and regarding a way for you to find the path you seek." Haldof folded his hands on the table. "He is a master of the current of fate. If anyone can understand the reason you are here, it is him."
Abraham's heart quickened.
"You must travel to the Southern Kingdom," Haldof continued. "To Caelvar."
The name carried weight. Caelvar the radiant southern realm of scholars, seers, and ancient archives where magic was studied not as power, but as language.
Abraham fell silent. Part of him felt a flicker of excitement.
The other part felt unbearably heavy.
"And you?" he asked softly. "Will you come with us? You'll be alone here. Who will help you?"
Haldof smiled warmly.
"Alone?" he chuckled. "The forest has been my companion longer than most men have lived. I am not alone, Abraham."
His voice softened.
"This is your path. You wish to return home, do you not? I have prepared what you need. And as for me…" He tapped his chest lightly. "I have lived longer than you imagine. Do not worry over an old wizard who still remembers how to break mountains."
Ashrel blinked at that but said nothing.
The mention of another world, however, unsettled him.
"Wait," Ashrel said slowly. "Return home? Another world? What do you mean?"
Abraham looked at Haldof. The old wizard gave a small nod.
Permission.
"I'm not from this world, Ashrel," Abraham said quietly.
Ashrel stared. "Not… from this world?"
"No. I come from somewhere else. A different world entirely. I don't know how I crossed over but I did."
He told him everything.
His old life.The confusion.The moment he awakened in a land that did not belong to him.
At first, Ashrel looked skeptical. Then troubled. Then uncertain.
But when Haldof confirmed the truth speaking of thin places between worlds and ancient fractures in reality Ashrel slowly accepted it.
And his curiosity toward Abraham deepened.
Haldof rose at last.
"Rest tonight," he said. "Tomorrow, your road begins."
He turned to Ashrel.
"Ashrel, will you accompany him? Guard him. Teach him what I cannot within these woods."
Ashrel hesitated. His fingers tightened slightly at his side.
Then he lowered his head.
"I will," he said. "I will protect him until he reaches his purpose. And I will teach him this world."
"Good," Haldof replied. "What I have taught him is only foundation. The world itself must be his true instructor."
Later that night, when the cottage had grown still, Haldof walked to Abraham's room and knocked gently.
"May I come in?"
"Of course," Abraham answered.
Inside, Abraham was packing. A large travel pack lay filled beside the bed, along with a smaller satchel of medicinal supplies.
They sat together on the edge of the bed.
"How do you feel?" Haldof asked. "Nervous?"
Abraham shook his head faintly.
"Not really… I'm just sad. I don't like the thought of leaving you alone."
His voice wavered. His eyes shimmered.
Haldof laughed softly.
"Do not cry, you sentimental fool. You look at me as if I were some fragile old man." He straightened slightly. "I am not weak. Once you step beyond this forest, you may finally learn who I truly am."
There was pride in his tone but also affection.
"Now," Haldof continued, reaching into his robe, "I have something for you."
He handed Abraham an old book bound in dark leather etched with faint silver lines symbols that seemed to shift when seen from the corner of the eye.
Along with it, he gave him a necklace bearing a small green gemstone.
"Keep these," Haldof said. "They are proof that you are my student."
Abraham accepted them carefully, then embraced him.
"Thank you…" he whispered.
After a moment, he pulled back.
"Will we see each other again?"
"If fate permits," Haldof answered gently. "The gemstone will guide you. It is bound to its twin."
He revealed a similar green stone hanging beneath his robes.
"They resonate through distance," he explained. "As long as they glow, we are both alive."
"And the book?" Abraham asked.
"I found it wedged within the hollow of an ancient tree at the forest's edge. It is no ordinary text. It is an artifact."
Artifacts were not crafted they were discovered.
Objects saturated with raw, natural magic. Some believed they were touched by the roots of the World Tree itself. Others claimed they were fragments fallen from its unseen branches. Whatever their origin, artifacts carried will, memory, and power.
"I do not know its full nature," Haldof admitted. "But it reacted when you first arrived here. That is enough for me. Guard it well."
"I will," Abraham said.
"Rest now. Tomorrow, you begin seeing the world as it truly is."
Haldof left the room.
And Abraham lay awake for some time, staring at the ceiling—listening to the forest one last time as its quiet guardian.
Morning arrived bright and clear.
The air was crisp. Sunlight filtered through the leaves like scattered gold.
This was the beginning.
Abraham stepped outside carrying his large pack and his satchel of medicines. Ashrel stood ready at the front of the cottage. Haldof waited in the yard.
Abraham embraced him one last time.
"Continue practicing the feeling of magic," Haldof said. "Even if you feel nothing."
"I will."
Then Haldof turned to Ashrel and withdrew a sword wrapped in dark cloth.
He removed the covering.
The blade gleamed like pale starlight.
"This," Haldof said, "was forged by the dwarves during my travels long ago. It is crafted from mythril-stone alloy the strongest metal ever shaped in the Deep Forges."
He handed it to Ashrel.
"I named it Luminous. It responds to light magic. And you, Ashrel, carry light within you. Guard this blade. And guard Abraham."
Ashrel's breath caught.
The weapon was priceless. Mythril was rarer than royal crowns. He also remembered how Haldof had once healed a wound no physician could mend.
Slowly, Ashrel dropped to one knee.
He placed the sword before him and spoke in the formal cadence of knighthood.
"I, Ashrael Hollowbryn, swear loyalty to Haldof Thorney. I accept my first charge: to protect Abraham. I will defend him with my life, should it be required."
Abraham stared, stunned. He had never witnessed a knight's oath before.
Haldof himself looked briefly surprised but he would never belittle a knight's vow.
"Rise," he said solemnly. "I accept your oath. Go with blessing. Walk safely beneath the turning sky."
Ashrel stood and saluted.
And so, Abraham and Ashrel began walking away from the cottage.
Step by step, they left the forest that had sheltered them.
Haldof remained where he stood, watching until their figures faded between the trees.
The wind stirred the leaves.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, the threads of destiny tightened.
The journey had truly begun.