The dawn was pale, a thin ribbon of light slipping between the hills.
Veyo stretched, cracking his knuckles. “We leave at first light.”
Veiron adjusted the steel at his hip. “The road is long. You must keep pace.”
Stavir’s hand pressed on Guarder’s shoulder. “Do not fall behind, boy. The world does not wait for the weary.”
Guarder stirred, blinking. “I… I will try.”
They walked in silence. The forests swallowed their footprints, and each village they passed whispered of the boy who had vanished into the river.
Deep in the forest, a wild carcass leapt from the underbrush.
Stavir moved like a shadow, blade flashing. The creature fell.
Guarder froze. Then a smaller carcass lunged at him.
“Stay back!” Stavir barked.
The creature struck. Guarder was thrown against a tree with a crack that made him gasp.
Stavir’s eyes narrowed. “You thought you could handle that?”
Guarder groaned, holding his side. “I… I didn’t expect—”
“This is only the beginning,” Stavir said.
That night, Guarder slept by the fire. Stavir sat opposite, Veiron and Veyo flanking him.
“He has potential,” Stavir muttered. “But will he endure?”
Veiron shook his head. “We never take disciples lightly. Few have the strength.”
Stavir’s jaw tightened. “If he falters now, he will break when it matters most. We take him as our pupil.”
The next morning, they reached a waterfall. Water thundered down, spraying mist like shards of ice.
“Stand beneath it,” Stavir ordered.
Guarder stepped forward. The torrent struck him. Two seconds, and he fell.
Stavir’s voice cut through the roar. “Again!”
Guarder gritted his teeth. “I… I can’t—”
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“You will!” Stavir snapped. “Do not think. Endure!”
Minutes passed. Teeth chattered. Limbs screamed. Guarder fell again and again.
“Keep your core tight! Lock your shoulders!” Stavir barked. “Do not collapse, Guarder!”
By dusk, Guarder managed thirty seconds—fifteen times longer than when he began.
“You are slow,” Stavir said, but there was a hint of approval. “But you are learning.”
As the weeks turned into months, Guarder began physical training under Stavir’s relentless guidance.
“Lift that rock,” Stavir commanded at the riverbank.
Guarder heaved and rolled it into the water. “I… I did it,” he panted.
“Again. Until it moves like you mean it,” Stavir replied.
At every break from walking, Stavir pushed him further:
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Pushing trees.
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Kicking trunks.
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Hanging from branches with precision.
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Climbing trees with speed and care.
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Digging holes deep into the earth.
Each day was harder than the last. Each night, Guarder recovered, only to face tougher tasks. Rain, sun, wind—he endured. One year passed in this relentless rhythm. Stavir’s basic methods were cruel in their simplicity, but effective. Guarder emerged stronger, leaner, and unyielding.
Finally, they crested the hill overlooking the valley. Guarder froze. The cliff where his childhood home had once stood loomed before him. Silence stretched across the rocks—no birds, no rustling leaves, no signs of life.
“It… it’s empty,” Guarder whispered. “Nothing… no one…”
Stavir said nothing. Veiron and Veyo exchanged grim glances. The sight weighed heavy on all of them.
Guarder’s small shoulders shook. “Everything… gone…”
Stavir placed a hand on his shoulder. “This is only the beginning, Guarder. Control your grief. Move forward.”
They pressed on toward the nearest village, one day’s journey away, which Guarder remembered.
The village emerged at dusk. Houses stood, doors ajar. Smoke curled from no fires. Silence pressed down like a shroud.
Guarder ran toward the first hut he recognized. “No… no one…” His voice broke.
Veiron crouched by the doorway. “It’s true. The disease… it swept through. Roughly fifty people. Dead. The villagers fled or died alone. No one dared help.”
Guarder sank to the ground, sobs wracking him. “No… no one could help… my friends… my family…”
Stavir crouched beside him, gripping his shoulders like iron. “Enough! You are not a child. Crying will not bring them back! Stand, Guarder!”
“I… I can’t…” Guarder whispered, burying his face.
“You can,” Stavir said, voice hard but steady. “You will survive. You will honor them. Stand. Live. You will not break here.”
Guarder shivered, but slowly lifted his head, tears streaming.
Veiron said softly, “We cannot help them. There is nothing left here.”
Veyo folded the map. “The road continues. One day to the next village. Guarder, you lead.”
Guarder nodded, fists clenched. “Yes… I will.”
Stavir released him, watching intently. “Let this sorrow remind you, not destroy you.”
And so, heavy with grief and strengthened by a year of relentless training, they set off toward the neighboring country—the homeland of the three old men. Behind them lay loss, death, and despair. Ahead lay unknown lands, trials, and the promise that Guarder’s body and mind, forged through fire, rock, and water, would soon be tested in ways that would shape the rest of his life.
how was the pacing