The first light of morning painted the Silver Grove in hues of gold and silver, the air crisp with the scent of dew-kissed leaves and distant rain. Birds trilled in the canopy, their songs weaving through the rustling branches like a melody only the forest understood. Eryk Thorn stood at the edge of the training grounds, his muscles already screaming in protest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
This is ridiculous!
He had barely begun.
And yet, it felt like he had been running for hours.
Eldrin's idea of basic training was nothing short of torture. Push-ups on uneven stone, sprints across moss-slick paths, and now—stars above—holding a stance with his arms outstretched, trembling under the weight of two smooth river stones balanced on his palms.
His arms burned. His legs shook. Sweat dripped down his temples, stinging his eyes.
Ares, perched on a nearby stump, watched with what Eryk could only describe as amusement.
"You look ridiculous," the dragon observed, his tail flicking lazily.
Eryk gritted his teeth. "Not. Helping."
Yavanna, leaning against a tree with her arms crossed, grinned.
"You're doing great!"
Eryk shot her a glare. "Liar!"
She laughed, the sound bright and unapologetic. "Okay, fine. You look like you're about to pass out."
Sera, sprawled on the grass with her legs stretched out, smirked.
"I've seen corpses with better posture."
Eldrin, standing like a statue a few paces away, said nothing. His silver hair caught the morning light, his expression was unreadable. He didn't need to speak. His disappointment was a tangible thing, heavy as the stones in Eryk's hands.
Eryk's arms trembled harder.
Just a little longer...
His muscles screamed.
Just—
The stones clattered to the ground.
Eryk collapsed onto his knees, gasping, his arms limp at his sides. His vision swam, the world tilting dangerously.
Sera let out a low whistle. "Pathetic!"
Ares hopped down from the stump and nudged Eryk's shoulder with his snout. "You are terrible at this."
Eryk groaned, rolling onto his back. "I know!"
Eldrin finally moved, stepping forward with the grace of a predator.
"Again."
Eryk blinked up at him. "What?"
"Again," Eldrin repeated, his voice calm but edged with steel. "You hold the stones until I say otherwise."
Eryk's stomach dropped. "But—"
Eldrin's gaze sharpened. "Do you want control, or do you want excuses?"
The words struck like a slap.
Eryk swallowed. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself back up.
His arms shook as he reached for the stones.
Sera snorted. "This is the worst entertainment I've ever seen!"
Yavanna, at least, had the decency to look sympathetic.
"You'll get used to it."
Eryk wasn't so sure.
~○~
Eldrin waited until Eryk's arms gave out a second time before turning to Sera.
"Your turn."
Sera's smirk vanished. "Excuse me?"
Eldrin didn't blink.
"The queen's terms apply to you as well. You train."
Sera's eyes narrowed. "I don't need training."
Eldrin's lips curled, just slightly.
"Prove it."
Sera opened her mouth—probably to argue—but then her pride got the better of her. With a scoff, she pushed herself up and stalked forward. "Fine. But I'm not doing push-ups like some common soldier."
Eldrin said nothing. He simply gestured to the stones.
Sera stared at them. Then at Eldrin. Then back at the stones.
"...You're joking."
Eldrin's expression didn't change.
Sera's eye twitched.
Eryk, still sprawled on the ground, couldn't help but grin. "Oh, this is going to be good."
Sera shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "Shut up!!"
She snatched the stones from the ground, her grip white-knuckled.
For a moment, she held them steady.
Then her arms began to shake.
Eryk's grin widened. "Having trouble?"
Sera bared her teeth.
"I will end you!!"
Ares chirped. "This is the best day of my life."
Yavanna covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Eldrin, ever the stoic, simply crossed his arms.
"Hold them higher."
Sera's face turned an impressive shade of red. "I hate this place!"
~○~
By midday, both Eryk and Sera were drenched in sweat, their limbs leaden, their pride thoroughly bruised.
Eldrin, mercifully, called for a break.
Eryk collapsed onto the grass, his chest heaving.
"I'm dying!"
Sera, lying facedown beside him, groaned. "If I ever see another rock, I'm throwing it at your head!"
Ares, now perched on Eryk's stomach, tilted his head. "You are both terrible at this."
Eryk didn't argue.
Yavanna handed them each a waterskin, her amusement barely contained. "You'll get stronger."
Sera took a long swig, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I don't want to get stronger. I want to leave!"
"And be hostaged by the ogres?" Yavanna said.
Eryk sighed. "We've been over this."
Sera's jaw clenched. "I know, Stray Dog!"
A tense silence settled between them.
Then, because they were both exhausted and irritable and incapable of leaving well enough alone, Sera flicked a pebble at Eryk's forehead.
Eryk blinked.
"Did you just—?"
Sera smirked. "What? You gonna cry?"
Eryk grabbed a handful of grass and threw it at her.
Sera gasped, scandalized. "Oh, you're dead!!"
What followed was less of a fight and more of a graceless tangle of limbs, half-hearted punches, and muttered curses. They rolled across the grass, Sera yanking Eryk's hair, Eryk attempting (and failing) to pin her down.
Ares watched from a safe distance, his tail flicking. "This is embarrassing..."
Yavanna covered her face.
"I can't watch."
Eldrin, meanwhile, looked like he was questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.
"Enough!"
The word cut through the chaos like a blade.
Eryk and Sera froze, mid-scuffle.
Eldrin's expression was flat. "You are warriors. Act like it!"
Sera, still half-draped over Eryk, scowled. "We're tired."
Eryk nodded emphatically.
"And in pain."
Eldrin's gaze didn't waver.
"Pain is the price of strength. If you cannot endure this, how will you face the ogres? How will you reclaim what was taken from you?"
The words landed like a blow.
Sera's grip on Eryk's shirt loosened.
Eryk's chest tightened.
Eldrin turned away. "Rest. We resume in an hour."
With that, he walked off, leaving them in the grass, the weight of his words settling over them like a shroud.