Chapter 55: Graduation

Three days went by far faster than Alex had realized. He awoke the next morning shocked that the sun had already risen and fearful that Sylvaris will punish him for having slept in.

He jumped to his feet and looked about, finding Sylvaris already seated at the small table inside the hut. The elf waved him over, and he could see tea already poured for two. It was drastically different from Alex’s typical morning in the hut.

He took his place at the table and Sylvaris pushed a saucer and cup over to him. Across from him, Sylvaris poured more tea into his own cup. No words passed between them for several minutes, there was just the quiet crackle of flame and the occasional shift of leaves in the wind.

Alex finally broke the silence. “So, is this where you tell me I’ve grown?”

Sylvaris didn’t smile, but his silver eyes flicked up with dry amusement. “If you need validation that badly, I can send a flower girl to applaud you.”

Alex smirked. “Maybe throw in a parade. Some confetti. A ‘You Didn’t Die’ medal.”

Sylvaris sipped his tea. “What’s your plan?”

“Kobold territory. Hopefully in time to not find my friends roasted over a spit.” He chuckled at his own joke and sipped at the tea. It was refreshing and soothing. He sighed.

“You won’t be ready.”

Alex paused. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I speak to you the truth, not comfort.” Sylvaris leaned back, his tone calm as ever. “No warrior is ever ‘ready.’ You simply go. The only question is how much of yourself you lose on the way.”

Alex nodded slowly. “That’s… bleak.”

“It is honest.” Sylvaris reached into the folds of his robe and retrieved a small pouch. He placed it beside Alex. “A few parting gifts. Dried mana-root, for tea. It will help you restore your aether reserves when you are exhausted. I also included another aether gemstone, it seems you stumbled upon a rather effective means to subvert your energy capacity issue. I applaud you on that. Lastly, there are speaking charms in there for each of your comrades. Hopefully they will not suffer the same embarrassing culture mistakes as you have.”

Alex picked it up, surprised at the gesture. He still remembered their first meeting, when Sylvaris only allowed him three questions. “You sure you’re not going soft on me?”

“No. But you are predictably reckless. I prefer my students alive, if only to avoid the time wasted.” They sat in silence again, the tea cooling between them.

Sylvaris spoke once more, softly. “When you fight, remember this: strength is not fury. Control is not silence, and intent is not desire.”

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He nodded in reply, trying to commit the words to memory. “Okay, Yoda. You wanna break that one down?”

Sylvaris didn’t rise to the joke, which was a disappointment.

“Fury is power, but it is also blind. Use the wrath in the style I gave you, but do not let it use you. Control without feeling becomes rigidity. And desire? It clouds intent. You must feel, but not flail. Think, but not hesitate. Want, but not crave.”

Alex stared into his cup. “Sounds like a hell of a balancing act.”

“It is.” Sylvaris’s gaze turned toward the open doorway of the hut and the trees beyond it, as if watching something far away. “But if you walk that edge well, even the gods will have to step aside.” The elf finished his tea and carefully set the cup upon the saucer in front of him.

“I said three days, and that is now over.” Sylvaris said. He reached into his cloak, withdrew a small leather-bound scroll case, and tossed it beside Alex.

“What’s this?”

“Your next lesson. Theory and diagrams on energy shaping, focus structures, node realignment, all things your clumsy human texts rarely cover.”

He picked up the scroll and vanished it into his bracelet. “You mean homework.”

“I mean training,” Sylvaris said coolly. “Unless you plan to remain a child swinging wildly at shadows, your arms will get tired quickly.”

Alex managed a grin. “No. I plan to punch a god.”

Sylvaris raised a single brow. “Then you’ll need more than brute strength. You’ll need discipline.”

Alex stood, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Alright then. Time to go screw up gracefully.”

Sylvaris also rose, brushing nonexistent dust from his robe. He didn’t offer a handshake, or a bow, just a nod, faint but firm. “You may return when your path brings you back to us. Not before.”

“I’ll send a postcard,” Alex said, stepping back. “Try not to miss me.”

“Unlikely.”

As Alex walked toward the forest out of the clearing, the world shimmered to reveal him on a forest path leading out of the elf village. It was as if he had been in the village the whole time, instead of outside it, like a collapsed pocket space. Thinking about it made Alex’s head hurt.

A few elves had silently gathered to watch and yet none spoke or waved. They stood like sentinels. Everyone of them watched Alex’s passing, composed and impossibly graceful.

He gave a half-hearted salute, more out of habit than necessity, and then disappeared beneath the emerald canopy. The road ahead was narrow and overgrown, but he didn’t stumble. His aether pulsed rhythmically inside his body now, not at all perfect, but steady. As the silence of the forest swallowed him whole, he allowed himself a small smile.

“Oh good you’re done with the elves. So then lets get back to your [Glyphcraft]. Also, let me take a peek at that scroll he gave you.”

Alex sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God dammit.”

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