Forged in the Shadows

Xenric tightened his grip on the crude sword, the cold metal biting into his palm. The figure at the base of the hill stood motionless, the black cloak draped over their shoulders shifting slightly in the winter breeze. Snow crunched under Xenric's boots as he descended the hill cautiously, his eyes never leaving the mysterious stranger.

"Who are you?" Xenric called out, his voice steady despite the unease twisting in his stomach.

The figure tilted their head slightly, a gesture that carried both curiosity and mockery. "A question better saved for yourself, boy," came the reply, low and smooth, each word carrying a quiet authority. "You stand on the threshold of a journey you do not comprehend. Why?"

Xenric's brows furrowed, his resolve hardening. "I don't need to explain myself to you."

The stranger chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the howling wind. "Oh, but you do. For you carry the scent of ambition and desperation, a combination that has caught the attention of powers far greater than your own."

Xenric took another step forward, his sword raised. "If you mean to stop me, you'll find me ready."

In response, the cloaked figure raised a hand, pulling back the hood to reveal a face that seemed ageless. Dark eyes glittered with intelligence and mischief, framed by strands of silver hair that contrasted starkly with their youthful features. A faint smile played on their lips as they regarded Xenric.

"Ready?" they mused. "We shall see."

Before Xenric could react, the figure's hand flicked upward, and the snow at their feet erupted in a burst of energy. The force knocked Xenric backward, and he slid across the frozen ground, his sword skittering from his grasp. He scrambled to his feet, his breath clouding the air, as the figure stepped forward with an almost casual grace.

"You wield a blade forged in haste," the figure observed, gesturing toward the discarded weapon. "Do you think such a thing will carry you to glory?"

Xenric clenched his fists, a surge of frustration and determination rising within him. "I don't care if my sword is crude or my chances are slim. I will fight for what I believe in."

The stranger's smile widened, and they drew their own weapon: a sleek, curved blade that seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light. "Good. Then show me."

Xenric dove for his sword, rolling through the snow as the stranger's blade flashed through the air where he had been moments before. He gripped the hilt tightly and spun to face his opponent, raising the weapon defensively. The stranger advanced, their movements fluid and precise, forcing Xenric to retreat step by step.

Each clash of blades sent vibrations up Xenric's arms, his inexperience stark against the stranger's mastery. Yet, he refused to back down. He parried a strike and countered with a wide swing, only for the stranger to sidestep effortlessly, their blade tapping Xenric's shoulder lightly.

"Your form is crude, your strikes wild," the stranger remarked, their tone almost disappointed. "But there is something in you. A spark." The stranger's eyes widened.

Xenric growled, tightening his stance. "Stop talking and fight!"

With a roar, he lunged forward, putting all his strength into an overhead strike. The stranger caught the blow with their blade, the impact sending a shockwave through the air. For a moment, Xenric thought he saw a flicker of surprise in their eyes.

"Interesting," the stranger murmured before pushing Xenric back with a sudden burst of force. Xenric stumbled but managed to stay on his feet, his chest heaving with exertion. The stranger lowered their weapon, tilting their head as if considering something.

"Enough," they said, sheathing the shimmering blade. "You are not ready. But, you have potential."

Xenric glared at them, his grip on his sword unwavering. "What do you want from me?"

The stranger's smile returned, enigmatic and unsettling. "Only to see if you were worth my time. For now, consider this your first lesson: strength alone will not carry you to the Crown of Kings. You will need far more than that."

"Wait," Xenric said, stepping forward as the stranger began to turn away. "If you know so much, help me."

The stranger paused, their back to Xenric. "Help? No, boy. But perhaps.. I will watch. The road ahead is long and treacherous. If you survive, we may meet again."

With that, the stranger disappeared into the swirling snow, leaving Xenric alone once more. He stood there for a moment, the silence pressing in around him, before lowering his sword. Though his body ached and his pride was bruised, a fire burned brighter within him. The encounter had not shaken his resolve; it had strengthened it.

Xenric sheathed his blade and turned southward, his steps firm despite the lingering cold. The journey ahead was uncertain, but he would face it head-on. For the first time, he truly understood that the gods' trials would test not just his strength, but his spirit.

And he would not falter.

Xenric trudged through the snow for hours, his legs burning with effort. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky turned a deep shade of indigo, the stars beginning to peek through the veil of twilight. The chill deepened, the wind biting harder against his skin. Just as exhaustion threatened to overtake him, he spotted a faint glow on the horizon, a cluster of flickering lights.

Another village.

His pace quickened, hope reigniting in his chest. The torches marked sanctuary, if only temporary, and a step closer to leaving the frozen north behind. The path became steeper as he neared the village, its snow-dusted rooftops nestled against the backdrop of towering pines. The muffled sounds of distant voices and the warm glow spilling from windows felt like a promise of rest after the trials of the day.

By the time Xenric reached the outskirts, darkness had fully enveloped the land, save for the welcoming light of the village. He paused to catch his breath, glancing back at the vast expanse of white he had traversed. Though the stranger's words lingered in his mind, they did not dissuade him.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but tonight, Xenric allowed himself a moment of reprieve. The north, with its unyielding cold and mysterious trials, was beginning to loosen its grip. Soon, he would leave it behind entirely, stepping into lands unknown, and toward the destiny he had chosen to chase.