Gwydion breathed out in relief as the gates slammed shut behind them. His palms were sweaty from the distress. For the briefest of moments, he almost thought the guards wouldn’t let the boy in.

The Council had trained the hybrids well, too well to his liking, but he knew these measures were introduced for the safety of the apprentices in Lárhus.

Although he never studied there himself, he witnessed its humble beginnings up until what it is today – a hub of knowledge, where various races sought to enter and learn the Teachings of the Past and Present, and become wise men and women.

He never thought that Lárhus would one day become such a prestigious place, perhaps because of his rocky relationship with the founder and headmaster, Logan.

Lárhus was indeed a dream come true for the headmaster and his old friend. Logan had always been such a dreamer, even back when they studied side by side in Isaldor. It was a dream many of his people, the deities, and Gwydion himself, deemed foolish.

Not because Logan wasn’t fit for such a difficult task – Logan had always been a wise man at heart despite his divine origin – but because of his connection to the Council of Deities that ruled Fayr and the Seven Kingdoms.

He was the grandson of one of the most high-standing council members, Lady Urius, and expected to succeed her. That is, before he cut all ties with her to run Lárhus.

Gwydion cracked a bitter smile. Just thinking about Logan was enough to put a smile on his face and make him reminisce about the forgotten past.

“What’s that place, sir? Lárhus?”

Gwydion followed the path ahead that soon meandered into a crossroads.

The grainy one led to the heart of the capital and the castle that housed the Council, and the other one led through a meadow to a dense woodland, where the notorious school for apprentices lay.

“The place I promised to take you.”

“Like some kind of school?”

“Hmm,” he said and turned right. “We need to reach Lárhus before the gates closes and lock you out. And the last thing I want is to have a chat with Logan.”

He said the last sentence more to himself than for the boy to hear, but somehow this was the exact sentence that piqued the boy’s interest.

“Logan? Who’s that, sir?”

“Just someone I know. Why are you so slow? Get a move on, lad!”

“Is he a druid, then?”

Gwydion picked up the pace without being aware of it. The never-ending questions were getting on his nerves.

“No.”

“A deity?”

He stopped and turned around, no longer able to contain himself as time was ticking, and his already muddled mind was occupied with thoughts of the cut-throat ogres and the call for help back in Isaldor.

“One more peep from you and you're going back to Mazheven, child!” He raised his voice more than he wanted to. “Now nod if you understand.”

The boy nodded and, much to his surprise, did not utter a single word in protest. Gwydion heaved a sigh upon seeing the boy drop his head. Did he scare the kid without meaning to?

They followed the meandering pathway to a meadow on the outskirts of Boldizsár. The meadow shone in the shades of yellow and amber. The green grass was full of roses, hyacinths, and dandelions, which swayed to the wind in a rhythmic dance.

The fragrant flowers stretched their necks towards the brightness as if they sought something hidden in the blue sky concealed behind the white clouds.

Soon enough, towering trees surrounded the meadow from all angles and cast a shadow over the vicinity until the radiant colours let up.

Yet no birds chirped or sang amidst the radiant meadow, not even as they inched closer to the dense woodland in the distance.

Hain glanced at the druid as he noticed they were venturing into the forest. He halted for a second and briefly looked over his shoulder, only to witness the darkness of the forest devour the druid in the blink of an eye.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forwards with staggering legs and followed the druid into the unknown depths before him.

The large trees and thorny bushes absorbed all light with their huge crowns and branches, putting the forest into utter and eternal darkness.

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Not even a string of light penetrated through the denseness and lit up the forest. This place was darker than the Forgotten Forest back in Mazheven – even in broad daylight.

The druid raised his left arm with a swift move. From his palm, light emancipated in shades of orange, like a flame or torch that moved to the cadence of their footsteps and lit up the surrounding darkness.

Hain watched with bulged-out eyes as he followed the druid, who felt no pain from the burning flames coming out of his palm.

Although he wanted to ask the druid how he did this, he knew the other wouldn’t answer, so he kept quiet and carried on.

It was strange.

The forest was devoid of noises and living beings as if all life had left the forest in a hurry the moment they stepped into it, hiding from them for some reason as they followed the fading trail before them – deep in their thoughts until they reached a dead end.

The trail vanished into thin air as if by magic in front of a huge tree without a crown.

Hain crouched to better see where the trail disappeared off to when he noticed another pathway to their left that went uphill.

He stood up, ready to ask Gwydion where the left trail led when everything became dark yet again.

Frantic, he looked around himself, searching for the druid among the choking darkness from left to right in a never-ending loop.

His breath was irregular and shallow as he realised the druid perished along with the amber glow.

He flinched as something passed by behind him. He turned around. A noise cut through and made him shift his eyes to the left in a breath.

That was when he caught a glimpse of the druid amidst the darkness and heaved a sigh of relief.

“Sir, I—”

“Scchh!”

He gulped hard and followed the druid, who approached a massive bush squeezed between two towering trees in one corner of the forest.

Hain cocked his head as he studied the strange bush. It looked as if the trees meant to conceal the bush from the naked eye, protect it from the evil within the forest, or perhaps, the evil outside of it.

Before he knew what was going on, Gwydion touched the bush along its branches and wilted leaves as if he sought something among the denseness, too immersed in what he was doing to take notice of Hain’s perplexed expression.

Hain scratched the back of his head, relentlessly trying to figure out what the druid was doing all of a sudden.

He took a step forward to better see what was going on when the druid turned around with a smile on his lips and pulled up an ebony key with a round head.

Hain was about to ask what the key was for when the druid thrust it right in the middle of the bush where a keyhole arose from nothing.

A string of light shone through the keyhole that soon beamed so bright that it lit up the whole forest as if a thousand sunrays burst out through it.

The large bush turned into a wooden door as dark as the muddy ground beneath them. The door cracked open by itself and invited them into whatever lay beyond it.

Hain placed a hand over his eyes to shield them from the blinding light that surrounded them from all directions.

He leapt forwards as the druid entered through the wooden door, scared out of his wits that the door would shut him out and leave him trapped in the darkness.

Following the druid with a pounding heart, he glanced over his shoulder as soon as he stepped through the mystical door.

The wooden door disappeared before his eyes, as if it never was there, to begin with. He held his breath without realising it until a hand tapped his shoulder and he gasped out loud.

He turned around and locked eyes with the druid, who pointed at something in the distance. The sight before them was like something out of a dream or fairytale, too beautiful to describe with words or explain.

A castle made of stones seemingly arose from nothing, surrounded by a clear moat that teemed with fish that danced inside of it – vivid and kicking – filling the absence of the chirping birds with their songs and whispers.

The moat itself glittered like a pearl and reflected the grey castle as clear as day. Not even an ounce of wind disturbed its breathtaking reflection, as if it deliberately avoided the moat.

Hain’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide.

“Whe- where are we?”

“Deodscùa Lárhus.”

“Lárhus?” His eyes grew even wider. “The- the school for apprentices? We’re really here!?”

“You don’t sound impressed, young man.”

“I- I thought you were… that you were—”

“A druid never tells lies. If you want to be a wise man, you must first learn the Teachings of the Past and Present, and Lárhus is the only place that will teach you these kinds of things.”

“These kinds of things?”

“It’s one of its kind, this place. When I was your age, Lárhus did not exist, you see. Many of us became apprentices under the guidance of wise masters in the capital of Isaldor instead.”

“You don’t think it’s necessary? I mean to learn the Teachings of the Past and Present, sir?”

“I do, of course I do.” Hain followed the druid’s gaze as it landed on the castle ahead. “I just don’t think there’s a need for a place like this…”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I know only a handful of wise men much wiser than myself, people who left a mark on history. Do you know what they all had in common?”

“No, sir.”

“They taught themselves the Teachings, no one forced them or told them to. Yet I don’t know a single person who has graduated from this place and become a great druid – a druid even I want to learn from.”

“Does that mean there’s a wise man even you respect?”

“Respect?” The druid burst out laughing. “No, I’m just telling you the truth everyone in there will deny.”

“But who is it? The druid you want to learn from? The one who has left a mark on—”

“Just someone you don’t need to know. Go ahead now and move it. You won’t make it to the gates at this rate.”

Hain clammed up and bowed down in a farewell. He knew from the change in the druid’s expression that he would say no more.

Running towards Lárhus with all his might, many thoughts ran through his head. He slowed down soon afterwards and glanced over his shoulder to ask the druid one last question when he halted and looked around himself.

Gwydion was no longer behind him. There was no trace left of him. Sighing, he picked up the pace again and dashed towards the bridge made of wooden timbers across the moat.

The bridge swayed back and forth like a rocking chair under his weight and made him almost stumble into the moat.

Hesitating whether to slow down or run with all his might for what felt like ages, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes – listening to the fish whisper in the moat as if they tried to calm his beating heart with their airy voices.

Curling his hands into a fist with determination, he rushed ahead with eyes shut as the bridge swayed out of control under him.

When he opened his eyes again, the surface no longer moved and he found himself in front of the tremendous gates he saw across the bridge.

His eyes grew wide as he belatedly noticed that the gates were closing. Without delay, he sprinted just in the nick of time and made it in.