The barbarians started to invade Ceraviehl around three days ago. Reports conclude they dug various tunnels through the mountain range, quickly storming the fort near Bryme from within the kingdom.

So far there have been three different tunnels spotted, each spread along the mountain range around 50 miles apart from each other. The majority of their forces are infantry and estimated to be around 24.000 strong, although more are still coming. With only a few hundred soldiers stationed in Bryme, the city is believed to fall within the next fortnight.

Letter from a messenger to The Council, three days before summer solstice in 866 a.f.

“I want you to put an arrow within a finger’s width of mine,” Silas’ master declared, drawing a crude line into the ground before him.

“Yes, master,” Silas responded, already pulling the first arrow out of the quiver beside him.

He tingled with anticipation. Putting the arrow on the string, Silas started to slowly draw the bow. It was harder than he thought, as he had to release the arrow before having drawn the bow halfway.

To his disappointment, the arrow didn’t even land close to its mark. He barely hit the wall of the shed, with Tom’s arrow being a couple of feet to the right. His second try was even worse, as Silas somehow lost grip of the arrow while drawing. The arrow fell to the ground in front of him and the string almost slapped his lower arm.

Silas thought back on his father’s lessons, remembering the stance he had taught him. Drawing the bow with new-found resolve, Silas closed one eye as he aimed. This time the arrow landed a bit closer to Tom’s, but way off to where he had aimed originally. The next few arrows were of a similar result, with one even landing in the grass.

Sighing, Silas shook his right arm to loosen it up. He already felt the strain in his shoulder, so he retrieved the arrows and put them back in the quiver.

“Not that bad for your first time shooting a bow,” Tom stated from behind Silas. The boy flinched. Good thing he didn’t tell Tom about the lessons his father had already given him.

“But your stance and posture need some work. Always stand perpendicular to your target, and put an equal amount of weight on both feet,” the old man said.

“Perpen what?” Silas asked with confusion.

“Perpendicular,” Tom enounced slowly. “In this case, it means the outer edge of your right foot points towards your target instead of your toes. This way you can’t lose balance after shooting,” he explained. Tom then corrected Silas’ posture, straightening his back with a few pats.

“Try again,” his master prompted Silas.

Taking a deep breath, Silas pulled another arrow from the quiver. He nocked it, taking care to keep his back straight. Tom stood right behind him, hands clasped behind his back.

“Draw the arrow towards your chin and keep your eyes on the target, not the arrow,” Tom advised.

Silas pulled the arrow as far as he could without losing control, closing one eye to aim. He released and the arrow spun towards the shed, coming to a stop near Tom’s arrow. His shot was still more than a foot off, but better than his earlier shots.

An enthusiastic and high-pitched creak came from his right shoulder. Gnarly imitated the motion of drawing and releasing an arrow, creaking as its imaginary arrow flew through the air.

A proud smile formed itself on Silas’ face. His arrow wasn’t that far off from the one Tom had shot. He turned his head, glancing at Tom who stood behind him. However, his master just looked at him expressionlessly. Silas knew he couldn’t win a staring contest with the old man, so he decided to break the tension before it could build up.

“How did I do, master?” Silas asked him.

“You successfully shot the wall without hurting yourself,” Tom replied in a deadpan voice.

“But never close one eye to aim. You’re a human, not a Cyclops,” he added.

“But master, many people close one eye before shooting! I have even seen hunters do it,” Silas argued.

“Watch,” Tom said. Hefting his bow, Tom pulled three arrows out of the quiver. He looked at the wall intently for a second, focusing his gaze on a specific part before nocking the first arrow.

Then, the old man started shooting.

He was so fast Silas could hardly follow the movement of his hands. One after the other, the arrows imbedded themselves into the exact same spot in the wall, each one biting deep into the wood. There were so close together not even a hair could be put between them.

“Don’t trust in what other people do, trust your instincts. Most people are stupid anyway. Closing one eye gives you an illusion of better aim, while in reality, all you’re doing is handicapping yourself,” Tom explained.

“But I do aim better with one eye!” Silas replied stubbornly.

Sighing, Tom picked up two hand-sized stones from nearby.

“I want you to throw this stone at the tree over there,” he said, pointing at a large oak standing to the right of the shed.

Silas frowned, not understanding what Tom was getting at. He threw the stone, hitting the tree without problems.

“Now do it again, but close one eye,” Tom said, handing the second stone to Silas.

Taking a second to aim, Silas threw the second stone. This time the stone missed the tree by a few feet, landing to the left of it.

“Closing one eye does not make your aim better. You will also have noticed how you didn’t need to look at the stone to throw it at your target. The same goes for archery. Don’t look at the arrow, look at where you shoot. Your body knows what to do. Concentrate on your target, and the arrow will follow,” Tom explained.

“While closing one eye may seem like a good option at first, it’s a bad and dangerous habit to develop,” his master lectured him. Apart from ruining your balance, you’re also limiting your field of vision. Which is not something you should do ever do, especially not in a battle,” the old man told his apprentice.

Silas had been skeptical at first, but the second stone-throw had opened his eyes for him. He had never even considered closing his eye or looking at the stone in his hands before throwing. His body had known by touch alone how large it was, how to hold it, and when to let go.

Also, getting shot because he couldn’t dodge an incoming arrow due to him closing one eye would be a really dumb way to die.

“I understand, master,” Silas said.

Tom nodded, holding out his hand to retrieve the bow he had given Silas.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to practice more tomorrow,” Tom told his apprentice after seeing his hesitation to give the bow back.

“From now on you will practice both with the spear and bow daily, while also accompany me hunting,” the old man declared. “But we’re done for today, so let’s enjoy supper before it gets too dark,” he said, getting a loaf of bread, a huge jug of water, and a piece of cheese from the cabin.

Together they sat on their usual spot around the fireplace, eating in a comfortable silence. The cool evening wind blew across Silas' face, playing with his thick and wooly brown hair that by now already grew over his ears.

The sun started to set, and the whole forest seemed to prepare itself for the night.

He could feel Gnarly stepping on his ear and pulling on his hair, apparently trying to climb on his head. Silas held a hand to the side of his head to help his companion. After a bit of a struggle, it finally reached the top of his head.

Gnarly then stood up and threw both of its arms into the air. It creaked as loud as it could, a sense of accomplishment radiating from it. Silas could not see it, but even the corner of Tom’s mouth twitched slightly at the cute display.

“Be careful up there buddy, I don’t want you to fall as soon as I turn my head,” Silas said with worry.

Gnarly only responded by patting his head reassuringly. Tom laid down his piece of bread, turning his head to look at his apprentice.

“What does it mean to be a Mage, Silas?” he asked him suddenly.

“It means to wield the magical Arts,” Silas responded without having to think.

“Is that all?” Tom inquired.

Silas frowned, wondering what his master was getting at. “It’s about being something more. It’s about having the power to punish those who deserve it,” Silas said with conviction.

“Who deserves to be punished, then?” Tom asked looking right into Silas' eyes.

The old man was sitting right in front of him, yet Silas’ mind was elsewhere already. Tom, the fireplace, and the clearing all faded away, giving space to a scene so horrific Silas would never be able to forget it. His mother’s corpse lay in front of him, her once crystal-clear eyes having lost their sheen.

The barbarian stood looming over Silas, his two cruel axes dripping with blood. Edgar’s corpse was a few feet away, his mutilated face unrecognizable.

Seeing his dead parents in front of him, Silas didn’t need to long to think about Tom’s question.

“The barbarians,” he spat out.

His face was contorted by emotion, his eyes hard. Throat constricting, he was on the point of breaking into sobs. Turning his gaze from Tom, Silas used the hate he felt to combat the overwhelming sadness inside of him.

“How would you punish the barbarians?” Tom asked calmly.

“I would kill them. Just as they killed my parents,” Silas said.

“What if you came across a few barbarians, and they have a son who is watching you kill his parents?”

“They are barbarians, so what does it matter,” the boy retorted in his anger.

“Then what is the difference between you and them?” Tom demanded of Silas.

The boy’s eyes went wide, his face red with fury.

“I’m nothing like them!” he said, his voice rising. “The barbarians are the ones who killed my family, I am only avenging their death!” he screamed.

“So you are using their death to justify more killing,” Tom said, his tone neutral.

“How dare you, old man! What do you know about death?” Silas asked accusingly.

“Trust me, I know…” however Tom didn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I have seen my own parents die right in front of me, just because I wasn’t strong enough to save them!” Silas wailed. “I should have at least tried to protect them, then maybe they would still be…” burying his head in his hands, Silas began to sob uncontrollably.

All the emotions he had tried to suppress during the last few days came crashing down on him. His parents were gone, and he had to accept that. Yet he couldn’t. They were all he had known his entire life, and now he wouldn’t ever see them again.

His father, making Hannah blush with one of his cheesy compliments. His mother, singing by the fire passionately, both Edgar and Silas entranced by her voice.

All of it was gone.

An arm embraced him, pulling him close. Silas heard the sound of Tom’s voice, although he couldn’t make out the words. Gnarly creaked soothingly into Silas’ ear, saddened by the pain Silas felt.

Head buried in the old man’s chest, Silas let go of all pretense of being strong. He wanted to be like a hero in one of his father’s stories, but he was just a boy. A useless boy who couldn’t protect anyone, not even himself. Just the thought of losing Gnarly filled him with a drowning sensation of loneliness.

His new friend was all he had, now.

Stronger than ever, Silas felt the desire to become a powerful Mage. He would train as hard as he could, not letting anything or anyone deter him from his path. Not only to take revenge for his parents’ death but also to protect Gnarly and those he cared for.

Silas stayed in Tom’s embrace for a while, the old man looking out into the woods with a sorrowful expression. Eventually calmed down somewhat, Silas pulled away from Tom. Swiping away the tears in his eyes, Silas took a deep breath.

All of a sudden the twigs laying in front of him started to pull themselves together, forming a small wooden figure. It stood motionlessly, looking at Silas with nonexistent eyes.

“A Mage is a person like any other in this world,” Tom said, the wooden figure raising one arm as he began to speak. The figure waved its arms, and small leaves started to circle it.

“And you are right, the ability to wield the magical Arts is what differentiates Mages from other people,” the old man continued.

The figure then raised one arm and the leaves circling it shot away, landing in front of Silas. A second figure formed itself from the leaves, standing opposite from the one made out of twigs.

“However, the human is flawed by design.” The two figures walked toward each other, their arms raised. “They are prone to give in to feelings of hate and revenge,” Tom said.

Leaves and twigs started to fly back and forth as the two figures fought each other. After a short while, the one made of leaves won and the other crumpled to the ground. Yet soon after a new figure made of twigs rose, pointing at its fallen predecessor. Balling its fist, the new figure attacked the one made of leaves with abandon, wooden projectiles riddling it with holes.

Having avenged its predecessor’s death, the wooden figure stood victoriously, raising one balled fist into the air. But a new figure already grew from the leaves on the ground, gesticulating at the pile of leaves beside it while looking at its adversary.

This cycle repeated itself endlessly. One figure took revenge, only to be killed by the one on the opposite side afterward.

“Death does not justify more death, Silas. Being a Mage does not make you immune to these feelings. Quite the contrary. It gives you the power to act on them, which is even more dangerous,” Tom said.

“Power can be used for violence,” Tom explained, a couple of figures rising and fighting each other instantly. “But it can also be used to help other people and work together.”

Now two different figures were walking side by side, using their different Arts to create a small house. It was made of both twigs and leaves, the twigs being the framework while the leaves build the walls and roof.

“I know words are like the wind, but trust an old man when he tells you to lay down your hate.” Looking away from Silas, Tom gazed into the forest.

His eyes were unfocused, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

“Hate and Revenge will take everything from you,” Tom said bitterly. “It will leave you with nothing until you are but a husk of your former self. One day, you will wake up and realize you wasted your life, wishing you could turn back time.”

Gnarly and Silas stayed silent during the whole presentation. Silas still felt angry, but the emotion in the old man’s words had surprised him. Once more, Silas wondered about his master’s past. Why did he even live out here? Being as powerful as he was, Tom would be able to live almost anywhere.

“I don’t expect to change your mind overnight, but think about what I said. Always consider the consequences of your actions. Because in the end, we’re all just living beings, afraid to die and trying to protect those we care for.”

Returning his gaze, Silas looked at Tom despairingly.

“So what am I supposed to do then? Simply ignore what happened?”

Tom shook his head.

“No, but the path you are walking on will bring you neither happiness nor relief. The only thing you can do now is honor their memory,” he told him. “Try to think about what kind of Mage they would have wanted you to be.”

That struck a nerve with Silas. He didn’t think he could ever stop hating the barbarians for what they had done to him, but Edgar and Hannah had always hated violence. They surely would not want him to kill anybody, especially not in their name.

Silence reigned for a time. Both master and apprentice were lost in their thoughts, watching the evening sun hide itself behind the dense forest.

“Thank you,” Silas said eventually.

Tom just nodded, his gaze captivated by the ever-changing fight between the shadows of the trees and the spare rays of light that managed to enter the clearing.

“You know what? I think it’s time for your first lesson in the Arts,” the old man suddenly announced.

Instantly coming back to reality, Silas looked at Tom, surprised.

“Alright!” he exclaimed in delight.

Smiling, Tom pointed at a spot a couple of feet away from him.

“Stand over there, and pay attention!”

Silas could hardly contain his excitement. He was finally going to learn some real magic! His master was still smiling, which struck him as a bit odd. Tom had never smiled before, except when he had “tested his stance” earlier by hitting Silas with a staff repeatedly.

‘This can’t be good’, Silas thought with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

A large stick suddenly flew toward his face, his eyes going wide with shock.