Kapitel 18: Chapter 18 The Old Man by the Riverside: The Reluctant Apprentice
Eryndor returned to the riverbank the following day, his decision born out of necessity rather than trust. Solan was waiting for him, sitting cross-legged on the same flat rock, as though he hadn't moved an inch since their first encounter.
"So, you've come back," Solan said with a knowing smile.
Eryndor nodded hesitantly. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
Solan chuckled. "Choice or not, you're here. That's what matters." He stood, leaning on his staff. "If you want to survive in this cruel world, boy, you'll need more than just raw power. You'll need control, discipline, and wisdom. Are you ready for that?"
Eryndor met his gaze, determination burning in his eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes."
Solan's smile widened. "Good. Let's begin."
The first day of training was brutal. Solan led Eryndor to a clearing surrounded by towering trees. The air was thick with the scent of moss and earth, and the only sounds were the distant calls of birds and the rustling of leaves.
"Magic isn't just about waving your hands and muttering spells," Solan said. "It's an extension of your mind, body, and soul. To master it, you must first master yourself."
The old man's lessons began with simple exercises. Eryndor was instructed to sit still, focus on his breathing, and clear his mind of all distractions. But even this proved challenging. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl of memories, fears, and doubts.
"Focus," Solan said sharply. "The mind is your greatest weapon and your greatest enemy. If you can't control it, you'll never control your magic.
The mental exercises were only the beginning. Solan pushed Eryndor to his physical limits, making him run for miles, climb trees, and lift heavy stones. His body ached, his muscles burned, and his resolve began to waver.
When night fell, Solan introduced the first element: fire.
"Feel the heat within you," he instructed, lighting a small flame in his palm. "It's not just a force of destruction. Fire is life, warmth, and renewal. But it can consume you if you're not careful."
Eryndor struggled to summon even a spark. His frustration mounted with each failed attempt, and Solan's stern gaze offered no comfort.
"You lack patience," Solan said. "That's your greatest weakness."
Eryndor clenched his fists, his pride stinging. "I'm trying!"
"Trying isn't enough," Solan snapped. "You must commit, heart and soul. Anything less is failure."
The days turned into weeks, and Solan's training only grew more demanding. Eryndor's routine became a relentless cycle of mental, physical, and magical exercises. He practiced with all four elements—fire, water, earth, and air—each presenting unique challenges.
Water required calmness and adaptability, qualities that didn't come naturally to him. Solan made him stand waist-deep in the icy river for hours, feeling the currents and learning to move with them.
"Water is life," Solan explained. "It's flexible, yet powerful. Learn to flow with it, and you'll find strength in its rhythm."
Earth demanded stability and resilience. Eryndor spent countless hours lifting boulders, digging trenches, and planting his feet firmly on the ground.
"Earth is the foundation of all things," Solan said. "If you can ground yourself, nothing can shake you."
Air was the hardest of all. Solan made Eryndor meditate atop a cliff, feeling the wind whip around him, trying to sense its currents and control its movement.
"Air is freedom," Solan said. "It's the breath of life and the force of change. Embrace it, and you'll soar."
Despite his progress, Eryndor's frustration grew. Solan's methods were harsh, his expectations relentless. The old man offered no praise, only criticism. Eryndor began to resent him, questioning why he had ever agreed to this torment.
One night, as he lay by the fire, his body aching and his spirit broken, Eryndor made a decision. He would leave.
He waited until Solan was asleep, then quietly gathered his belongings. But as he took his first step toward freedom, a familiar voice stopped him.
"Running away, are we?"
Eryndor turned to see Asvarion perched on a nearby tree branch, his fiery feathers glowing in the darkness.
"I can't do this anymore," Eryndor said, his voice trembling. "He's pushing me too hard. I'm not strong enough."
Asvarion flew down, landing gracefully before him. "Strength isn't just about power. It's about endurance, perseverance, and the will to keep going, even when every fiber of your being screams for you to stop."
Eryndor looked away, ashamed. "I just… I don't think I can be the person everyone wants me to be."
Asvarion's eyes softened. "You don't have to be. But you do have to be the person you're meant to be. Solan sees that potential in you, even if he doesn't show it. Trust in him, and trust in yourself."
Eryndor swallowed hard, tears welling in his eyes. "What if I fail?"
"Then you get back up," Asvarion said simply. "Every great journey is paved with failures. It's how you rise that defines you."
Eryndor nodded, accepted his fate. He returned to his bedroll, determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Solan's training resumed with renewed intensity. If the old man suspected Eryndor's near-abandonment, he didn't mention it. Instead, he pushed the boy even harder, testing his limits in every way imaginable.
Eryndor's progress became evident. He learned to summon fire at will, creating small flames in his palms and shaping them into intricate patterns. He could manipulate water, forming it into spheres and streams that danced through the air. He could move rocks with a flick of his wrist and summon gusts of wind strong enough to topple trees.
But Solan's lessons weren't just about power. He taught Eryndor the wisdom behind each spell, the balance required to wield magic responsibly.
"Magic isn't just a tool," Solan said one evening as they sat by the fire. "It's a part of you, an extension of your soul. Use it recklessly, and it will consume you. Use it wisely, and it will guide you."
Eryndor listened intently, absorbing every word. He began to see magic not as a burden, but as a gift—a responsibility he couldn't ignore.
One day, Solan set Eryndor a final challenge. He was to use his magic to hunt and capture an antelope, a task that required skill, precision, and control.
Eryndor tracked the animal through the forest, his senses heightened by weeks of training. When he finally spotted it, he summoned a gust of wind to startle it into the open. As the antelope bolted, he formed a barrier of earth to block its path, then used a stream of water to slow its movements. Finally, he conjured a ring of fire, trapping the animal without harming it.
When he returned to Solan with the captured antelope, the old man nodded in approval.
"You've done well," Solan said. "But this is only the beginning. Your journey will only grow harder from here."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein