The warmth of the campfire felt like heaven against Finnian's frost-bitten skin. Their temporary sanctuary was a marvel of practical magic—Zara had conjured a translucent dome that kept the howling winds at bay while Gareth had somehow managed to start a roaring fire using nothing but flint and what appeared to be his own stubborn willpower. The contrast between the frozen wasteland beyond their barrier and the cozy warmth within was almost surreal.
Finnian sat on a conjured log, gratefully accepting a steaming bowl of stew from Kira. The archer had proven surprisingly domestic, producing ingredients from her pack that definitely shouldn't have fit in such a small space.
"Dimensional storage pouches," she explained with a smirk when she caught his confused stare. "Gareth's not the only one with tricks."
Lyralei sat across from him, her amber eyes studying his face in the flickering firelight. She'd changed from her traveling clothes into something more casual, though even in simple garments she maintained that regal bearing that made Finnian's heart skip. Ancient texts lay scattered around her like fallen leaves, their pages covered in symbols that seemed to shift and dance when he wasn't looking directly at them.
"The genealogical records are fascinating," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Your bloodline traces back through no fewer than seven royal houses before reaching the imperial dynasty. It's remarkable that it remained hidden for so long."
Seraphina, who had been quietly observing from across the fire, finally spoke. "Those records are centuries old, Lady Ashworth. Bloodlines get diluted over time, mixed with common stock. Half the continent could claim some distant connection to nobility if you dig deep enough." Her eyes were politely skeptical. "Ancient bloodlines are romantic notions, but they rarely mean anything in practical terms."
Lyralei's cheeks flushed slightly. "But the magical resonance, the way the temples are responding—"
"Could have dozens of explanations," Seraphina interrupted gently but firmly. "Magical awakening happens to people from all walks of life. It doesn't require royal blood." She stood gracefully, brushing invisible dust from her cloak. "If you'll excuse me, I need to arrange something."
She moved away from the fire toward where the massive warrior was methodically cleaning his war hammer near the edge of their shelter, leaving behind a slightly deflated Lyralei and a confused Finnian.
Gareth looked up as Seraphina approached, noting her serious expression. "Something on your mind, lass?"
Seraphina glanced back toward the fire, ensuring they were out of earshot. "I need to ask something of you, Gareth. It's about Finnian."
The warrior set down his hammer, giving her his full attention. "Aye? What about the lad?"
"Train him," she said simply.
Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Train him? In what, exactly?"
"Combat fundamentals. Sword work, situational awareness, basic tactics." Seraphina's voice was low but urgent. "His magical abilities are tied to his emotions—when he gets frightened or angry, things happen. Dangerous things. If he's going to survive what's coming, he needs to learn how to stay calm under pressure."
"The road ahead's going to be that rough, is it?" Gareth studied her face in the dim light.
"Rougher than you can imagine," Seraphina confirmed. "Those creatures that attacked us won't be the last. And Finnian… he's not prepared for what he's going to face. He needs warrior training, not just magical theory."
Gareth stroked his braided beard, considering. "It's not just about the sword, you understand. Real fighting—the kind that keeps you breathing when everything goes to hell—that's about reading your opponent, understanding distance and timing, knowing when to advance and when to retreat." He nodded slowly. "Aye, I can see the wisdom in it. Magic tied to emotions needs a steady foundation."
"So you'll do it?" Seraphina asked.
"Course I will," Gareth said with a decisive nod. "Been too long since I had a proper student anyway. When do we start?"
"Tomorrow at first light," Seraphina replied. "And Gareth… don't go easy on him. The enemies he'll face won't show mercy."
The warrior's grin was fierce. "Wouldn't dream of it, lass."
They walked back toward the fire together, where the rest of the group was engaged in quiet conversation. Gareth cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.
"Lad," he called to Finnian, who looked up from where he'd been half-listening to Zara's animated explanation of dimensional storage theory. "We're going to have ourselves some proper training sessions, starting tomorrow."
"Training?" Finnian looked at Seraphina and blinked in confusion.
"Combat training," Gareth clarified, moving to a pack near the edge of their shelter. He returned with a sword still in its leather sheath. "This was my brother's blade—good steel, well-balanced, perfect for learning. Consider it yours."
Finnian accepted the weapon with trembling hands. It was heavier than he'd expected, the weight of it both foreign and somehow familiar. The leather-wrapped hilt fit his grip like it had been made for him.
"Draw it," Gareth instructed.
The blade sang as it cleared the sheath, its polished surface reflecting the firelight like captured starlight. Along the fuller, ancient runes were etched into the steel.
Lyralei gasped. "Those markings… they're Imperial script. 'Victory through Honor, Strength through Sacrifice.'" Her amber eyes were wide with wonder. "Surely this is proof that—"
"Ancient runes were popular decorative elements on quality blades for centuries," Seraphina interjected smoothly, "Smiths often copied Imperial designs long after the empire fell. It doesn't necessarily mean anything mystical."
Finnian took a deep breath, tasting the cold air and wood smoke. In the distance, he could hear the howl of wind through ice and the faint calls of creatures that hunted in the endless night.
He reached out and grasped Gareth's hand. "Teach me."
"Tomorrow," Gareth announced, clapping Finnian on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble, "we see if you can learn to use that thing without cutting off your own foot. Fair warning, lad—I don't believe in taking it easy on beginners."
"Neither do I," Kira added with a predatory grin. "I'll teach you how to move without getting yourself killed. Trust me, you'll thank me later."
"And I can help with the magical theory!" Zara chimed in enthusiastically. "Understanding how your power works is just as important as swinging a sword around!"
Lyralei smiled warmly at Finnian, and he felt his cheeks flush despite the cold. "I'll research what the ancient texts say about Imperial combat techniques. Perhaps there are insights that have been lost to time."
As the group settled in for the night, weapons were cleaned and plans were made. Finnian lay on his bedroll, the sword resting beside him. Tomorrow, his real training would begin. Tomorrow, he would start becoming the warrior they all believed he could be.