The fire crackled softly in the corner of the small cabin, casting long shadows across the rough wooden walls. Aiden sat on the floor, his back against a worn-out chair, idly spinning a knife between his fingers. His body ached from the day's training, but he had long since learned to ignore the pain.
Darius sat across from him, chewing zily on a piece of dried meat. He hadn’t spoken much during dinner, but now his sharp, calcuting eyes were locked onto Aiden.
"It’s time," Darius finally said, breaking the silence.
Aiden frowned. "Time for what?"
Darius leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "I’ve taught you everything I can."
Aiden blinked, caught off guard by the sudden statement. "What? That’s it? You’re done training me?"
Darius let out a dry chuckle. "Kid, if three years under me haven’t killed you, then you don’t need my training anymore. You need something else—real experience. And there’s only one pce you’re gonna get that."
Aiden already knew what Darius was going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it.
"You need to become a Protector."
Aiden scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, because that worked out so well the st time I tried."
Darius raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
Aiden clenched his fists. "Nobody wanted me back then. And even now, after three years of training, I’m barely at the minimum level to be accepted. The noble houses won’t take in someone like me. Not with these powers." He exhaled sharply. "I’d be lucky if they don’t just throw me out the second they see me."
Darius remained silent for a moment, then smirked. "Maybe the big noble families, sure. But I know one that just might take you in."
Aiden’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Darius leaned back, arms crossed. "They’re not well-known, but they’ve got money, and they don’t care much for noble politics. If anyone’s willing to take in a kid like you, it’s them."
Aiden stared into the fire, the flickering fmes reflecting in his dark eyes.
A chance. A real one.
But could he trust it?
