Underground in a hidden glade, bathed in the dappled spheres of light that filtered through ancient trees, a scene of quiet magic unfolded. There, amongst the whispering leaves and earthy scents, lay a child unlike any other. His skin, the color of a stormy sky, contrasted sharply with the vibrant green that enveloped him.

  He was encased in a cocoon, meticulously crafted from nature's bounty - velvety moss, fragrant herbs, and leaves of every conceivable shape and size, woven with the silken threads of nascent spiderwebs.

  This was no haphazard creation. It was a deliberate act of preservation, a desperate attempt to mend a body ravaged by unknown afflictions. The child, his name lost to the rustling leaves and forgotten whispers, was broken. Each shallow breath was a testament to the pain that wracked him, pain that resonated in the very stillness of the forest around him.

  But within the cocoon's emerald embrace, something extraordinary was happening. The air hummed with subtle energy, a symphony of life orchestrated by the forest itself—the herbs, known for their healing properties, pulsed with a gentle warmth.

  The moss, soft and absorbent, soothed his weary skin. And the leaves, each chosen with an instinctual understanding, mended the missing chunks of meat on his gray flesh.

  He lay motionless, a statue carved from the shadow as if surrendering himself to the process. He felt the sting of the herbs, the cool dampness of the moss, the tickling sensation of the spider silk tracing patterns on his skin. But with each passing moment, the pain receded, replaced by a strange sense of peace, a primal and profound connection to the earth.

  The cocoon was more than just a healing sanctuary; it was a catalyst for transformation. The child was shedding not only his physical wounds but also the remnants of a past he could no longer remember. Within the leafy cradle, he was being sculpted anew, molded by the very essence of the forest.

  Days turned into nights, marked only by the changing slant of the sunlight and the rhythm of fantastical forest creatures. The child remained enclosed, a silent witness to the intricate dance of life around him. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the missing chunks of flesh were replaced by vigorous gray skin. A faint blush of color, the color of dawn breaking over the horizon, began to emerge.

  The Emerald Cradle, a testament to the resilience of life and the healing power of nature, held its secrets close. It cradled a broken child, a forgotten soul. It promised a rebirth, a transformation into something new, something more substantial, something inextricably linked to the ancient, whispering heart of the forest. The world held its breath, waiting to see what would emerge—waiting to see the child forged anew.

  With divine hymn, a watcher was present as he sang a slow song. If one listened closely to the heavenly choir, the slow hymn would turn into a song of health. It spoke of the forest, of natural treasures cultivated for centuries, restoring what was lost.

  " I'm here; worry not," Brahan warmly assured the child. You are safe. Nothing can harm you in this half-dream world. "

  With a resounding crack, the cocoon shattered, leaving behind a gray-skinned child between the ages of 11 and 13. The child stood, eyes closed, as white and silver light rolled off him in undulating waves of intensity.

  Slowly, the child opened his eyes and drew in the sights around him. Darting eyes saw impossible wonders, and the boy's eyes lit up in mystical fascination for a moment. Within moments, his eyes settled on a man hunchbacked using a cane for support. Leathery skin, wrinkled with age, and a hairless crown marked his features.

  While the man's features spoke of age and frailty, the man's eyes truly drew David in, color as if polished gold met diamonds. Looking at these ancient eyes filled with wisdom, David's mind and soul screamed in pain.

  " Don't stare too much, "The old man said playfully. " We have lots to do childe, and shouldn't dally."

  The glade once more became tranquil as the rhythmic clang of a cane and boots echoed throughout the forested landscape.

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  Silence was their travel companion as their thoughts occupied them. As they traveled along the moss and trees, more and more of the forest was undone behind the duo.

  As they arrived at their destination, a cavern full of weapons on one side and books on the other appeared out of thin air.

  " Choose childe, " Commanded Brahan.

  David's face was filled with confusion as his head swiveled to all manner of weapons. Short spears, tridents, axes, scimitars, longswords, and even maces were neatly arranged in racks of stone.

  Leather, linen, stone, and even crystal-bound books, sitting on pedestals, beckoned David towards them. He headed towards the side filled with books, the rationale being that the quill is mightier than the sword.

  Shortly after he started, his nose bounced off a disturbance in the air.

  " Barred is the way of Aiodos to males childe."

  " What is an Aiodos? " Curiously, David asked, as he noted his words lacked the power the other had shown. Curiosity must have shown on his face as he heard Brahan speak.

  " Don't worry, childe. When you understand the true names of things, the song will give an understanding of precision, " Brahan chuckled. Now to your question, let me explain the precision that Aiodos entails."

  Brahan began spinning a tale as if a spider had created the most intricate designs. With artful flourish, he spoke of rituals, magicks, leylines, ranged destruction, leadership, and many more. David felt that this explanation lasted for an eternity.

  " That ... is much to take in, Brahan, " David said. " How can this one little word hold so much information?"

  " Childe, this word doesn't hold this much information. The core whispers of the promise and potential." Brahan scolded him.

  While David had a vague idea of what the elder was trying to convey, the idea was truly too abstract for him. Noticing this, Brahan continued on as he ushered David to the other side, which was filled with weapons.

  " Before you lays the path of Sciath, the way of martial might. Come, childe, try to gain recognition for a weapon. "

  Being a layman of medieval culture and cold weapons, David quickly picked up a weapon and discarded it seconds later. Maces, axes, daggers, and spears passed through his hands without a simple acknowledgment of any sort.

  As he reached the swords, a whisper tickled his ears, as if a gust of wind was playing with the elongated tips. David was unaware of all his body's changes, and only much later would he realize this. With bated breath, he touched one of a pair of short swords.

  " Ahh, a master of the ways of sharpness and duality, perhaps." Brahan mused.

  While David felt warmth from his hands upon touching the twin swords, nothing else would be gleaned from the interaction. With care, he placed both swords back into the racks of stone.

  Next in line was a short but broad sword. Carefully wrapped in leather, with runic designs flowing down the blade's flat, a masterful artisan must have poured his blood and sweat into its creation. Underneath its hanging blade was a shield with the same designs etched across its borders.

  " Ohh, maybe a master of the dance of defense, stalwart in his momentum?"

  This, too, only gave a vague sense of warmth, even less so than the twin swords. David moved on. There sat a fine sword, edges gleaming with wave-like patterns as the blade curved inwards. A wooden hilt hung besides it, with a string tassel wrapped around its mouth.

  " Aggressive but ever flowing like the rain might be your mastery."

  David pulled the sword and hilt out. Gazing upon it, warmth and a vague feeling of familiarity spoke to his mind. This blade reminded David of Samurai swords, or Katanas, as most people called them. But this, too, barely made any more connection than the others, so he hung it back in place.

  Quickly, David proceeded down the display of weapons. A longsword, sax, and jian entered his hands next. The only feeling he received was warmth; not even the familiarity triggered again.

  David was just a few pieces away from reaching the end of the sword rack as a song of sharpness entered his ears. Two pieces over there was a beauty of steel and craftsmanship; try as David might, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the cold beauty.

  With held breath, he passed a rapier and scimitar, barely registering in his mind as anticipation filled him. The beauty of steel before him barely kissed the ground as it hung from its place upon the rack.

  Without marking on its edges, the blade was simple, making David think of calculated steps and the coldness of its bite. With child-like wonder, David caressed the blade's flat and even felt frostbitten at the sheer coldness.

  " Hahaha, it is as I, the Brahan, predicted, " Jovial tunes flowed from the elder, " I told all you old fools, but no one wants to listen to this elder's words anymore."

  As David unslung the blade, a sheet was hidden behind it, too narrow to contain the blade, which puzzled him greatly. This conundrum was quickly forgotten as David gave the blade some swings.

  At first, the blade's length hampered David, but soon, the blade shrunk further and further until it settled on the length of his legs, while the grip's length remained constant.

  Clumsy swings soon gave way to amateurish precision as David held the blade with two hands. With a mystical clip, he mastered basic swings, and soon, movements of his feet created a dance of lethality.

  Explosive force turned rotation into a symphony of cold steel while David battled invisible dragons. Piercing thrusts, heavy overhead strikes, and sharp slices ended with a turn of the blade into a pommel strike.

  For the time it took to ease the burden on his small body, David stood there in the stillness of an untouched lake, eyes closed, gray skin glistening with sweat, listening to the rapid pace of his heart and the mournful cries of his soul.

  " We have found your path, child. Or should I say Sciath, of the way of everchanging forms?" Brahan declared with firm conviction. Gone were the earlier playful remarks and good-natured teasing.

  " Now let us speak of true names, contracts, and your purpose for being here."