The lush green jungle canopy towered above Milo as he glided silently through the underbrush. Dew drops glistened on broad leaves and vines as shafts of morning light pierced through the trees. Weeks had passed since Milo's triumphant mission.

Up ahead, he spotted Ludo sitting cross-legged beside a tranquil pond, eyes closed in meditation. Ludo's skin rippled, morphing from his usual bronze hue to a mottled green, allowing him to blend into the surrounding foliage.

"Trying a new look, Ludo?" Milo teased as he emerged from the brush.

Ludo's eyes snapped open, narrowing when they landed on Milo's grinning face. "Very funny. I was practicing my camouflage for tonight's hunt," he huffed.

"Ah, save your energy. With your stealth, you could sneak up on a jaguar as it is," Milo said.

He clasped Ludo's shoulder affectionately before moving towards the heart of their village, nestled between the great kapok trees. Already he could smell spices and hear lively chatter as the tribe prepared for the daily meal.

Home. This was home, these people were family. For now, that was enough.

Milo ducked under the low-hanging vines draped around the entrance to his family's hut. Inside, the earthy scent of smoldering herbs filled his nose. Nari, stood over a bubbling pot, wisps of vapor rising around her.

"Just in time, I'm making your favorite stew," she said, flashing a warm smile. Though wrinkles lined her face, her eyes still shone bright.

Milo's stomach rumbled. "Smells delicious already," he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Nari ran a hand through Milo's unruly hair. "My, you get taller every day. And these muscles - have you been wrestling jaguars again?"

"Only the small ones," Milo chuckled. He treasured these moments, just the two of them.

A horn blast shattered the calm. Milo tensed, meeting his mother's alarmed gaze. The warning call could only mean one thing - intruders.

Nari grasped his shoulders firmly. "Stay here," she ordered, hurrying out. Milo hesitated, then grabbed a dagger and rushed after her.

Chaos greeted him.

The Alliance was here, their arrival marked by a deafening crescendo of chaos. Fireballs streaked across the sky, trailing arcs of searing light, while bolts of lightning crackled through the air with deadly precision. From above, the Wesos, Pyros, and Hyphos clans descended like avenging spirits, their elemental powers converging in a storm of destruction. The village, once serene, now became a battleground.

Amidst the onslaught, Milo's tribesmen fought back with unwavering resolve. Torches of water spiraled and clashed with blazing fire, creating a mesmerizing dance of opposing forces. Vine whips lashed out, coiling around enemy combatants, only to be met with retaliatory strikes of elemental fury. Warriors from the Samun Prai tribe exhibited unmatched determination, their movements fluid yet fierce as they defended their homes.

With a fierce determination burning in his eyes, Milo surged forward to join Ludo and the other warriors, his dagger gleaming like a sliver of moonlight against the encroaching darkness. The Alliance launched their assault with a relentless intensity, their fireballs exploding upon impact and their lightning bolts splitting the air like cracks of doom. The clash of elements resonated like thunder, and Milo's movements were a blur of calculated agility as he deflected spells and evaded danger.

But the enemy's strength was an unforgiving tide, washing over his people with relentless force. Warriors from the Samun Prai tribe fought valiantly, each clash of weapons and sparks of magic a testament to their unwavering resolve. Yet, even as they struck back with a fervor born of desperation, the Alliance's might was overwhelming. The battle was a symphony of chaos, the air thick with the tang of magic and sweat, as warriors met their foes head-on.

Milo's heart pounded in his chest as he witnessed his tribe members falling one by one. Their cries of defiance were drowned out by the cacophony of combat, their bravery etched into the very fabric of the battlefield. His grip tightened on his dagger, his strikes becoming swifter, more precise, as he fought to keep his people safe. He exchanged blows with enemy combatants, his movements a fluid dance of offense and evasion, every strike carrying the weight of his determination to protect what remained of his family.

There was no color in the battle, everything was painted in shades of gray. Shapes and figures moved quickly, attacking and counter-attacking. The sound of clashing metal and screaming was deafening.

Milo fought fiercely, morphing into a jaguar and rushing at any opponent he could find. His blood boiled as he watched his family get destroyed one by one. He watched as one fell to a fireball to the chest, sending him back a dozen meters before impaling him in a nearby tree branch.

Another fell to a spear wound in the arm, his weapon dropping and his mouth fell open in pain and shock. Blood came gushing out as the youth groaned in pain.

The sound of war surrounded him, the grunts, cries and screams of the battlefield clung like a vicious symphony. The ominous clang of sand and dirt being soaked up by blood hung heavy in the air.

The battlefield reeked of blood and death. The metallic smell of blood mixing with the sickly sweet smell of an open wound. The scent of fear mixed with the stench of burning hair and cooked flesh.

Bile rose in the back of Milo's throat as he smelled the blood of his people. An acrid stench, like burning rubber and hot iron.

Every breath that Milo took was labored. His mind was going blank as rage began to consume him.

The boy roared and charged in like the wild animal he was.

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But it was no use - the Alliance was too powerful. They cut through his people like a scythe through wheat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Milo saw his mother locked in combat with a Pyros warrior. "No!" he cried, sprinting towards her. But he was too late. The warrior's flaming sword pierced Nari's heart.

Milo launched himself through the chaos with primal power, crashing into an opponent with a ferocious impact that shattered his bones. His razor-sharp claws tore through flesh and bone, his feral onslaught leaving a trail of blood and gore as he mauled his adversary to a swift and brutal end.

"Mother!" Milo wailed, collapsing beside her. Nari gazed up at him, eyes glazed with pain. "My son..." she whispered. "You must be...strong."

As the last word left her lips, her body went limp.

Rage and anguish tore through Milo. His magic erupted uncontrollably, sending the surrounding warriors flying with a purple wave of energy.

"You monsters!" Milo rushed forward in his jaguar form and pounced on the closest opponent. The boy mangled the screaming warrior whilst his paws were pressed tightly against his neck. The Pyros warrior soon went limp, blood splattered all over the soil.

Milo's eyes gleamed a bright purple. His world started to take on a purple hue. "Who is next?" he roared. "Come and I will kill you!"

The surviving villagers pulled Milo back as the Alliance pressed their attack.

"We must retreat!" Ludo shouted, his face streaked with soot and blood. Milo resisted, desperate to keep fighting, but Ludo dragged him into the jungle as their home burned.

Numb with grief, Milo let himself be led through the trees, his body heavy and limp. Images of his mother's lifeless body flashed through his mind. He had lost everything. What was he supposed to do now?

Ludo guided Milo and the survivors to a hidden cave. As his rage dissipated, an aching hollowness filled Milo's chest. He had failed to protect his tribe, his family. He curled into himself, finally letting the tears fall.

The battle had tasted like ash. The taste of smoke and broken bones and the bitter taste of the fear that permeated the air were heavy on his tongue.

Blood filled his mouth, yet he couldn't tell whether the blood is his or another's, friend or foe. The taste was the same.

Ludo grabbed the boy. "They caught us off guard so we don't have much time. I need to explain something to you."

Milo shook his head. "No, we have to go back and fight. We need to destroy those monsters."

Ludo's grip on the boy tightened. His gaze was strong and stern. "Listen Milo. Please. There is nothing we can do about our losses. We must retreat."

"Retreat? What are we? Since when do we of the Samun Prai retreat? I will go out and fight to the death for my family!"

Ludo sighed and then shook his head. "My boy it is much too late for us to win. Now listen to me."

"Why are you being a cowa-"

"Listen!"

Milo's heart wavered. He'd never heard Ludo shout like this before.

Ludo composed himself. "My boy, you need to know the truth about your heritage, and why The Alliance has come to us. What you don't know is that you are one of Arcana. This is why the Alliance has come here, to hunt you down."

The man grabbed a small purple pendant from his pocket and then handed it over to Milo.

Milo's grief quickly turned to confusion as Ludo revealed the truth.

"What are you talking about? This isn't the time for jokes father!" Milo shouted.

"I do not jest, Milo," Ludo responded. His eyes were red and tears welled up within them, yet Milo could sense the resolution found within them.

Milo froze; the shock of Ludo's words were almost too much to bear. He looked down at the pendant in his hands. Now he noticed the strange symbol etched into its surface—a symbol that seemed strangely familiar.

"This pendant means you are one of the Arcana," Ludo said gravely. "A ancient bloodline of powerful mages."

Milo's fingers curled around the pendant at his neck. "But...my mother..."

He looked into Milo's eyes, his gaze full of compassion. "Your true mother, Nara, was a powerful witch who left the tribe many years ago. Nari was her sister - your aunt. Your father, Arcanist Hector, brought you here many years ago in escape from the Alliance."

Ludo smiled sadly as he recalled those days. "Your parents were running from the Alliance of Three. It's difficult for me to explain as I don't know all of the details, but they were trying to protect you from a great danger."

Milo swallowed heavily, feeling overwhelmed by all this new information. He knew his family had kept secrets from him, but he had no idea it was anything like this! Ludo sensed Milo's confusion and continued on gently.

"Nari wanted nothing more than to keep you safe," he said softly. "She couldn't keep your parents here, so she promised them not only to take care of you until they returned but also to help shape you into something greater than what any normal child could become."

He smiled sadly and squeezed Milo's shoulder reassuringly. "Nari was the one responsible for teaching you all the spells and rituals that we practice in our tribe," he explained. "She may have been your aunt, but she treated you like a son nonetheless."

Thoughts churned through Milo's mind. He had magic abilities beyond his tribe members. Now it all made sense - he was Arcana.

But he didn't feel ready for whatever destiny that meant. He was just a jungle boy who had lost everything.

"The Fae Academy can help you develop your powers," Ludo continued. "You can finally uncover your true origins."

Milo's thoughts raced. "The Fae Academy? What are you talking about? That is a place of legends."

Ludo shook his head. "I don't have time to explain everything, you have to just trust me."

He looked up at Ludo and silently nodded. He knew that this was the only way forward. "What will you do?"

Ludo paused. "Listen to me, there is a portal hidden by the deer's antlers. You remember where that is don't you?"

Milo nodded.

"Good, I will buy you some time and you-"

"No!" Tears welled in Milo's eyes. His voice choked with emotion. "I won't leave you," he whispered, the weight of their bond and the impending separation too much to bear.

Ludo put a firm hand on Milo's shoulders. "You have to, my son. Promise me that you'll obey my final request."

Milo could not speak, his heart thumping like a meteor about to crash.

"Promise me, Milo, please," Ludo pleaded.

"I-I promise."

"Good," Ludo responded. "I am proud of you, and who you've grown up to become, my son."

With that, Ludo patted Milo on the back and ran back in the direction of their village.

Jaw set with determination, Milo rose. He would honor his tribe's memory. "I'll go to the Academy," he declared.

Milo bowed his head, then turned towards the jungle. He paused at the tree line, casting one last long look at the faces of his remaining people, committing them to memory.

"I will make you proud," he vowed softly. Then squaring his shoulders, he strode into the shadows of the trees, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Milo moved swiftly and silently through the jungle. As he ran, Milo's thoughts turned to the mysterious Fae Academy where he hoped to uncover the truth of his origins. He had heard tales of it since he was a child - an ancient institute hidden deep in the mists of the Silver Peaks, home to the most powerful mages in the realm. They took in those with innate magical abilities, training them to hone their gifts.

Milo's tribe had possessed a deep, elemental magic that let them transform and meld with nature. He wondered what arcane skills the academy would teach him. More importantly, what secrets about his past might be buried within its walls?

The winding jungle path ended abruptly at a sheer rock face. Milo placed his hand against the mossy stone. The stone held a striking resemblance to the elegant curve of a deer's antlers, its surface smoothed by time and weathered into intricate ridges and grooves that mimicked the delicate branching structure of the animal's crown. Milo could sense the subtle hum of power that emanated from within.

"Open," he commanded, and the rock face dissolved to reveal a shimmering portal. Milo took a deep breath, peering into the hypnotic swirl of light and color. This was the threshold - once he stepped through, there would be no turning back. His old life was gone, his home reduced to ashes. All that remained was the future.

With his jaw set in determination, Milo strode forward into the portal. There was a flash of searing light, a stomach-lurching sense of vertigo, and then...he was through.