"The fire within us burns quieter than the worlds rage. But it is fire nonetheless." – Ancient Skarn proverb
Year 1182 before flame
The Jungle of Sarthal whispered like a living being— leaves rustling not with wind but secrets. Damp earth clung to bare feet. Vines tangled like serpents from trees. Some where in a distance, a drake screeched, then went silent. Amidst the jungle of pure white serenity was a boy. Heat clung to him like fire, and his breath came ragged in heavy air.
He was Kaleon Skarn; an eight year old boy from the Skarn household.
*clang* *clang*
"Droppin' off your shoulders again, lad." came a gruff voice from the shadow behind the tree.
Maelor Skarn, Kaleon's uncle stepped out from a shadow behind a Veilthorn tree, a towering figure wrapped in leather and hair pulled back in a thick braid streaked with silver. One eye was blind, milky and dead from a drake wound. The other burned sharp as ever.
Kaleon turned, frustrated. "I'm but a little boy, only eight summers old! What more do you expect of me? Can't you see—I'm tired!"
Maelor's expression didn't change, he pointed at the boy's stance and hit him.
"Tired is what you feel at the moment of your death, Kaleon. The jungle doesn't care if you're eight. Neither will the battlefield—AGAIN."
Kaleon gasped, "I'm trying—"
"Trying is for poets. Doing is for Skarns. AGAIN."
Kaleon grit his teeth and raised his staff, arms trembling—not out of fear but because of the gruesome training and hardships, all covered in blood he was. Around them, the jungle pulsed with life—colours too green and white, sounds too alive. This place was not safe stone of Skarnhold, nor the warm halls of his mother. This was the Great Jungles of Sarthal where Maelor
brought the kid every summer. To break him down and forge him again.
They trained where drakes hunted. Where thorns bled you dry if you stepped wrong. Where even birds didn't sing at night.
With a roar that barely sounded like a child, Kaleon lunged towards Maelor.
Maelor parried and knocked him flat.
Somewhere above, the cry of drake echoed, low and reverberating like a drum beat in a distance. A second cry answered it.
"AHHHHHHHH"
Kaleon scream and lunged again towards Maelor, sweeping low. His staff connected with Maelor's ankle with a crack—but the man only grunted, pivoting and swinging down
THWACK
Kaleon went flying, hit the dirt with a dull oof and skidded through the trees. His cheek hit a branch and smeared off, blood rolled down his face.
But the boy didn't hesitate, Sticks collided in rapid crack-crack-crack rhythms. Kaleon darted left, spun under a swing, leapt onto a boulder for elevation. Maelor advanced like a predator, parrying one strike, side-stepping another.
But Kaleon did something unexpected; he threw his staff by kicking it mid air towards Maelor and he landed a jab right on his chin
THUD
Maelor flinched. "Better!"
Kaleon smirked—too soon
WHACK
The staff hit his thighs. He dropped like a stone.
"Never celebrate mid fight."
The fight was brutal. Not flashy, not clean—raw
Kaleon was beat up, groaning. Every part of his body begged to stay down. He blinked sweat from his eyes. The sky swam above him, blurred green and gold.
By midday, Kaleon could barely stand. He collapsed at the roots of a massive gnarled tree—bark dark as iron, roots curling like claws.
Maelor handed him a canteen. "Good," he said at last, seating himself beside the boy. "Now you're tired."
Kaleon took a gulp, then another. "Why here? Why not train at the hold? With real weapons. Real tutors."
Maelor snorted. "Because 'real tutors' don't teach you how to listen to the wild. Or how to move when no one else hears. Or how to kill when the killing is quiet." He plucked a leaf from the branch above. "And because out here, there's no glory. Only truth."
Breathless, Kaleon pushed up on one elbow, "What—" pant "What if I don't turn like you?"
Without pause, Maelor placed a hand on his shoulder. "No," he said, voice like distant thunder. "Your path lies beyond mine. You were born to rise, not to repeat." "That' enough for today" thud "Rest easy lad; you did great." said Maelor.