The journey ahead was long, filled with strange anticipation that Arwin had never known before. Every step he took away from the orphanage felt like stepping out of the shadow of his former life. His hands clutched the small, battered knapsack with his few belongings—his worn books and a couple of shirts, the sum of his life so far. As he walked alongside Valthir, the air around him felt charged, like a storm was brewing just out of reach. The world seemed to open up before him in a way he’d never experienced, with each step carrying him farther from the city that had confined him for so long.

  “Are you prepared, boy?” Valthir’s voice cut through the silence, low and steady.

  “Yes, Master.” Arwin replied, his voice a mix of excitement and nerves. The title still felt strange to him, but he found himself liking the sound of it. There was a weight to it, a kind of authority that he hadn’t had in his life before. He looked up at the elf, his mind buzzing with questions. “Where are we going?”

  Valthir didn’t answer immediately, his intense yellow eyes scanning the horizon as they walked. The land around them began to change; the cobblestone streets of the city gave way to dirt paths and fields stretching endlessly in every direction. The air was fresher here, filled with the scent of earth and growing things. “We’re heading to a place where you’ll learn to control the magic inside you.”

  Arwin felt a pang of curiosity and fear. “Magic…” he whispered to himself. He had never been taught about magic. In the orphanage, the closest he’d come to anything magical was the old stories told by the wanderers who came through the city. But those tales felt like myths, distant things. To have magic inside him, to feel it stir in his arm… it was impossible to fathom.

  “Don’t worry,” Valthir continued, his voice still calm, “You’ll understand it soon enough. The sigils on your skin are only the beginning. There’s much more to what you felt that day than just raw power. You must learn control, or eventually it will consume you.”

  Arwin’s mind raced. He could still feel the sharp, fleeting pain in his arm from the magic that had torn through him the night he killed the wolf. The sigils were gone, but the memory of them—the blue glow, the feeling of something ancient stirring deep inside him—remained. “What were those sigils? I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “They are ancient markings,” Valthir explained, eyes fixed on the path ahead. “They are symbols of the old magic, the magic that has been forgotten by most. Few people know how to wield it anymore. It’s not like the magic that the Guilds use in the cities—this magic comes from the world's very core. It’s connected to the roots of the earth, to the stars in the sky. To the elements themselves.”

  Arwin blinked, stunned. “So I’m supposed to learn how to control all of that?”

  Valthir nodded. “Yes. But it won’t be easy. Magic requires discipline, patience, and above all, respect. You can’t simply force it to do your bidding.”

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “But what if I can’t do it?” Arwin asked, voice barely above a whisper. The doubt crept into him like the cold wind that now swept through the open fields. He wasn’t strong enough. He wasn’t special. He had always been the weak one, the one left behind.

  Valthir turned and looked at him, his intense gaze piercing. “You can, but only if you believe you can. Magic has a way of choosing those who are worthy, but it also tests them. You’ll face obstacles—doubts, fears, and failures. But it’s in those moments that you’ll find out who you really are.”

  The words struck Arwin deep. He had never been given the chance to prove himself before. In the orphanage, he was nothing. But here, with Valthir, maybe he could become something, someone.

  As they traveled, the landscape grew more wild, less civilized. The edges of the city disappeared behind them, replaced by a forest and scattered villages. The farther they went, the less Arwin understood of his surroundings. Strange creatures appeared, ones that Arwin had only heard about in fairy tales—large, horned beasts that roamed the hills, their eyes glowing like embers. Valthir explained little about them, only that they were creatures of the wild, not to be feared unless provoked.

  At night, they camped under the stars. Valthir didn’t speak much, but there was a quiet authority in his silence. Arwin sat by the campfire, his eyes wide, trying to absorb everything he could. The air was different here—thick with the scent of pine and earth—and Arwin felt something stirring inside him, as if the magic that Valthir had spoken of was just waiting to be awakened.

  The first time he tried to call upon his magic was at the campfire. He closed his eyes, remembering the pressure in his arm, the way it had felt to release that power. He tried to concentrate, but nothing happened. He felt frustration bubble inside him. Was he truly just a fool pretending to be something he wasn’t?

  Valthir’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Magic doesn’t come when you want it. It comes when you’re ready. It’s not something you can force. It takes time.”

  Arwin scowled, but he didn’t argue. He had heard that enough in the orphanage. Time. Patience. If he was going to learn magic, he needed to be patient, even if it felt impossible.

  As the days passed, Arwin’s doubts slowly began to fade. The more time he spent with Valthir, the more he started to feel that maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this world of magic and mystery.

  But there was still so much he didn’t understand. Why had Valthir chosen him? Why did magic choose to reveal itself to a boy like him? Was it fate, or just luck?

  One night, as they sat by the fire, Arwin finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him for days.

  “Master… why me? Why did you choose me to be your apprentice?”

  Valthir’s yellow eyes gleamed in the firelight. For a moment, he said nothing, just watching Arwin with a knowing look. Then, finally, he spoke.

  “Because you have something they don’t,” Valthir said softly. “The others, the ones who have grown up with power, with wealth, they’ve forgotten what it’s like to want something. To need something. You are hungry. Hungry for a better life, for knowledge, Arwin. And hunger is a powerful force in this world. It’s what drives people to do the impossible.”

  Arwin looked up at the stars above, feeling the weight of those words. Hunger. Yes, he was hungry. Hungry for something more than the miserable life he had left behind. Hungry to prove that he could be more than just another forgotten orphan. Hungry to understand the magic that flowed through his veins, that connected him to a world he never knew existed.

  And, for the first time, Arwin believed that he might just have the strength to see this journey through to the end.