Despite Thalos being known across the realms as a legendary mage, he never once spoke of magic to Aeren. There were no grand lessons, no incantations, and certainly no displays of arcane power.

Instead, their days were filled with mundane tasks-gathering wood, hunting for food, and maintaining their humble cabin.

"Come on, Aeren," Thalos called one chilly morning, lifting an axe with ease. "We need more firewood before the frost sets in."

Aeren groaned, dragging his feet toward the pile of logs. "Why do I always have to do this?" he complained, picking up a smaller axe.

"Because you're strong enough," Thalos said with a sly smile. "And besides, it builds character."

Aeren huffed but got to work, his small hands gripping the axe handle tightly. He swung awkwardly, the blade biting into the wood but not splitting it entirely. He gritted his teeth and tried again, oblivious to the faint shimmer that danced around him each time the blade struck.

What Aeren didn't realize was that these simple tasks weren't so simple after all. Thalos had woven subtle threads of ancient magic into every chore. Each swing of the axe strengthened Aeren's control over energy without him noticing. Every step in the forest attuned his senses to the natural flow of magic.

"Good, keep your stance steady," Thalos instructed, leaning casually against a tree. "Feel the rhythm-strike when it feels right, not just when you think you should."

Aeren frowned but followed the advice. The next swing was smoother, cleaner, the log splitting perfectly down the middle.

"See? Easy," Thalos chuckled.

Aeren wiped sweat from his brow, grumbling under his breath. "Easy for you to say."

Thalos hid a knowing smile. Though Aeren was unaware, each day brought subtle growth. His strength, reflexes, and connection to the forest deepened with every seemingly mundane task.

At night, when Aeren slept soundly, Thalos would sit by the fire, watching the boy with a thoughtful gaze.

"They cast you aside because they couldn't see your worth," Thalos murmured softly. "But one day, they'll tremble before the strength they never thought possible."

For now, Thalos was content to let Aeren learn without knowing he was learning. The time for true magic would come soon enough.

The soft rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of insects filled the Darkwood Forest as Aeren wandered deeper among the towering trees. His body ached from the day's endless chores-splitting wood, gathering supplies, and hauling logs back to the cabin.

"I just need a break," he muttered to himself, dragging his feet across the moss-covered ground. The forest, though vast and ancient, had always felt familiar and safe. Thalos had warned him never to stray too far, but exhaustion dulled his sense of caution.

After a while, Aeren's weary gaze fell upon a serene pond hidden between ancient oaks. The water glistened under slivers of sunlight piercing through the canopy, its surface untouched by wind.

"Perfect," he sighed, sinking down on a flat rock by the water's edge. His reflection stared back at him-messy black hair, dirt-smudged cheeks, and eyes heavy with fatigue.

The gentle lull of the pond soon pulled him into a deep sleep, his breathing steady as he drifted into dreams far from the burdens of the forest.

But the Darkwood was never without danger.

From the shadows beyond the trees, a pair of glacial blue eyes gleamed, locked onto the unsuspecting boy. A massive creature stepped silently into the clearing, its silver-white fur shimmering like frost under the dappled light. The Ice Wolf, a rare and deadly predator feared even by seasoned hunters, bared its fangs, a cold mist swirling around its maw.

It crouched low, muscles coiling, ready to lunge.

In an instant, it sprang forward, claws extended, jaws wide to tear into its helpless prey.

Aeren remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

Suddenly, a searing blast of heat roared through the clearing. Flames erupted midair, colliding with the Ice Wolf and forcing it back with a pained yelp. The beast snarled but retreated into the shadows, the air thick with smoke and the scent of scorched fur.

Aeren jolted awake, eyes wide with shock as he saw the last flickers of flame dissipating. Standing between him and the fading danger was Thalos, his expression dark and fierce, his hand still crackling with residual fire magic.

"What were you thinking, boy?" Thalos's voice boomed, echoing through the forest.

Aeren stumbled to his feet, guilt and confusion flooding his chest. "I-I just needed to rest... I didn't think-"

"You didn't think," Thalos cut him off sharply. "This forest isn't a playground. It's filled with things that would tear you apart without a second thought. You were lucky I sensed the disturbance in time."

Aeren's shoulders slumped, shame weighing heavy on him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Thalos's gaze softened slightly, though his voice remained stern. "Sorry won't save you next time. You have to be aware, even when you're tired. Strength isn't just about power-it's about survival, understanding your surroundings, and knowing when you're vulnerable."

Aeren swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "I'll do better."

Thalos nodded, his tone gentler now. "Good. Because next time, I might not be there."

As they walked back toward the cabin, Aeren's mind raced. The encounter with the Ice Wolf had shaken him, but it had also ignited something deep within-a determination to grow stronger, to survive on his own without relying on Thalos's intervention.

Unbeknownst to him, Thalos watched with approval. The boy was learning, and soon enough, his true potential would begin to awaken.