Lord of the Forest - A Witcher Fanfic

The sky was streaked with gold and crimson as the morning sun broke over the forest canopy. Thorolf led Eldric to a rocky outcrop deep in the woods, his steps purposeful and steady. The boy followed closely, his shorter strides determined but occasionally faltering on the uneven terrain.

"This way," Thorolf called over his shoulder, his tone gruff but not unkind.

The outcrop loomed ahead, jagged stones reaching toward the sky like the spine of a great beast. A biting wind swept through the clearing, carrying the faint scent of pine and damp earth. Thorolf stopped and surveyed the craggy hill before them.

"This is your trial," he said, gesturing to the peak. "Climb to the top and bring me the feather of a falcon. If you're clever, you'll figure out where to find one."

Eldric glanced up at the steep incline, his brow furrowing. The path was littered with loose stones and jagged rocks, and the top seemed impossibly distant. "You're not coming with me?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Thorolf shook his head. "No one held my hand when I was your age. You'll do it alone." He crouched to meet Eldric's eyes, his expression softening slightly. "But you've got something I didn't have—sense. Use it, and you'll make it."

Eldric straightened his back and nodded, though his heart thudded in his chest.

The climb was grueling. The rocky slope tested Eldric's every step, the loose stones threatening to send him tumbling with a single misstep. His fingers scraped against jagged edges, and his breath came in short, sharp bursts as he pulled himself higher.

Halfway up, a screech cut through the air. Eldric looked up to see a falcon circling above, its piercing cry both a challenge and a taunt. He scanned the rocks and spotted a nest tucked into a crevice near the summit.

He gritted his teeth and pushed onward. The muscles in his legs burned, and his hands ached from the cold stone, but he focused on the nest above.

When he finally reached it, the falcon swooped low, its sharp eyes glaring as if to warn him away. Eldric froze, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.

The falcon cocked its head, its wings folding slightly as it perched on a nearby rock. Eldric extended his hand cautiously, plucking a single feather from the edge of the nest. The falcon let out a soft cry, as if granting its approval, before taking flight once more.

He tucked the feather into his belt and began the descent.

Thorolf waited at the base of the outcrop, his arms crossed as he leaned against a tree. When Eldric appeared, dirt-smudged and triumphant, Thorolf's lips curled into a faint smile.

"Not bad," he said, examining the feather. "You didn't crush the eggs. That's more than most would've managed."

Eldric grinned, his chest swelling with pride.

Thorolf handed him a waterskin and gestured for him to sit. "Rest up. Tomorrow will be harder."

Back at the sanctuary, Ailsa greeted them with a mixture of relief and reproach. "You pushed him too hard," she said, her voice sharp as she inspected the scrapes on Eldric's hands.

Thorolf shrugged. "He needs to learn."

Eldric, caught between them, spoke up. "I'm fine, Mother. I did it."

Ailsa's expression softened as she knelt to meet her son's gaze. "You're strong, Eldric. But strength is only one part of what you need." She led him to a grove where the trees formed a natural circle, their roots twisting into intricate patterns.

"Close your eyes," she said, her voice soothing. "Feel the life around you."

Eldric obeyed, his breath slowing as he tuned into the subtle rhythms of the forest. The rustle of leaves, the scurry of small creatures, the faint hum of energy beneath the earth—all of it filled his senses.

"This is balance," Ailsa whispered. "The world speaks if you know how to listen."

Eldric's sapling tattoo tingled faintly on his back, a sensation he was beginning to recognize as the forest's response to his presence.

That evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Thorolf and Ailsa sat by the fire while Eldric slept nearby. The tension between them was palpable, but neither seemed eager to break the silence.

Thorolf stared into the flames, his voice rough when he finally spoke. "I had no one to guide me. No one to tell me what mattered, what didn't. Everything I learned, I learned the hard way—with scars and broken bones."

Ailsa's gaze didn't waver. "And now you think he needs to suffer the same?"

Thorolf shook his head. "No. I'm trying to prepare him. The world won't care that he's special. It'll tear him apart if he's not ready."

Ailsa's expression softened, though her tone remained firm. "He'll be ready. But not just because he can climb rocks or wield a sword. He's more than that."

Thorolf looked at her, his jaw tightening. "And you think the world will care about his magic when it's steel he'll need to survive?"

"It's not just about surviving, Thorolf," Ailsa said, her voice fierce. "It's about leading. About protecting those who can't protect themselves."

Their words hung heavy in the air, the fire crackling between them.

The next morning, Thorolf led Eldric to a high vantage point overlooking the forest. The horizon stretched endlessly, the trees merging into misty mountains in the distance.

"This is the world you'll protect," Thorolf said, his voice low. "It's vast. Beautiful. But it's full of dangers you can't imagine yet."

Eldric stood silently, his small frame dwarfed by the landscape.

Thorolf placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. "One day, the Wild Hunt will come. They'll leave nothing but ash in their wake. When that day comes, you'll need to be ready."

Eldric glanced up at his father, his young face set with determination. "I will be."

Thorolf nodded, his expression unreadable as he looked back at the horizon.