The jungle was gone, replaced by a sweeping vista of mountains wreathed in ethereal mists. Perched on a craggy peak was an imposing castle, towers clawing at the sky.

The Fae Academy. Milo had arrived.

Milo's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the Fae Academy looming in the distance. Magic crackled in the air around the ancient stone towers, and he could make out tiny figures on brooms zipping to and fro.

A warried smile tugged at Milo's lips. After sixteen years in the jungle, this strange new world felt like a dream. With a deep breath, he hitched up his pack and set off down the wooded path.

The forest was alive. Strange birds with rainbow feathers watched him pass. Little folk with leafy hair and sharp teeth giggled from hollow logs. Milo kept his hand close to the bone dagger at his hip. He had lived amongst spirits and monsters his whole life - these were simply new.

The path grew narrow as Milo descended into a ravine. Heavy mist obscured his view. Suddenly, snarls erupted from the bushes ahead. Milo drew his knife as five grey wolves stalked out, teeth bared.

"Let's see if you can take me on without my magic," the boy mumbled. There was a glimmer in his eyes and excitement coursed through his body. He'd never seen a wolf before but had heard stories about these creatures before.

The alpha leapt with a howl. Milo rolled left, slashing at its side. It yelped and retreated. Two more attacked at once. Milo kicked one back and sliced the other's muzzle. Blood sprayed, hot and slick on his hand. The pack circled, looking for an opening. Milo's heart pounded. He had taken down jaguars twice this size back home. He could handle a few mangy wolves.

With a primal roar, Milo charged the alpha. He lodged his dagger deep in its chest. They tumbled in a clash of fangs and steel. Milo crushed the wolf's windpipe with his forearm, wrenching his blade free. The others fled, whining.

Panting, Milo scanned the ravine. Night was falling. The boy looked down at the wolf corpse and decided this would be his meal for the day.

After searching for about an hour through the forest, whilst dragging the wolf's corpse behind him, Milo found a shallow cave and built a fire.

The cave was filled with the crackling sound of roasting wolf meat on a spit. The meat was tough and unpleasant to chew, however he would need his strength for the trials ahead. The jungle had taught Milo to survive. But in this new world of magic, he had much still to learn.

...

Milo awoke to a chill in the air. The fire had died down to embers. He stirred it back to life, but the cold lingered. A whisper echoed through the cave.

"Milo..."

He scrambled up, knife in hand. "Who's there?"

A ghostly figure materialized by the fire. Milo's eyes widened. He looked down at the pendant hung across his neck, a purple light glowing brightly from it. "Who are you?"

The boy crouched down like a jaguar ready to pounce at a moment's notice. He pushed his mana through his body as he readied for a battle.

The spirit smiled, his features soft yet stern. "My son. It is I, Hector."

Milo's face twisted with disbelief before it was overcome with pure rage. He stared daggers at the figure, his voice rising with anger. "You? After sixteen years of silence, you have the audacity to show your face?"

"Peace, Milo," Hector rasped. "I have come to guide you toward your destiny."

"My destiny?" Milo scoffed. "The only destiny I want is to protect my tribe. My family, the people you left me with after you abandoned me!"

Hector's gaze softened. "I had no choice, my boy. For the safety of all, I had to leave you with the Samun Prai. But now you must learn of your true heritage."

The specter floated closer. Milo tensed, but did not retreat.

"Within you flows the ancient magic of the Arcana," Hector continued. "The power of the Void. With training, you can master abilities beyond any shaman."

Milo hesitated. He had always felt something deeper stirring within him. A connection to strange forces, visions of things to come.

"What are you? A ghost? A spirit? Why have you come now and not when I needed you?"

"..."

"What? Why aren't you speaking? Speak! You dare to not give me the answers I seek? After what you did?"

"I am a fragment of your father, left in that amulet you wear. I've been in here, dormant, watching you grow up into the fine youth you've become. It was only now that you left the jungle that I could finally communicate with you."

Milo wavered. A maelstrom of anger, hope and fear raged inside him. But in the spirit's eyes, he saw truth. With a shuddering breath, he clasped his father's icy, ethereal hand.

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Milo's hand passed through Hector's ghostly form, sending a chill through his body.

"Patience, my son," Hector said. "Our bond must be forged through ritual."

He floated back and his form shimmered, robes billowing around him. "To master the Void, you must find your familiar - a spirit companion to channel and focus your power."

Milo's eyes widened. He had heard tales of such things, but never imagined it for himself.

"Is that how I'll become stronger?" he asked.

Hector nodded. "My familiar, Valor, was my staunchest ally. But the ritual must be done properly."

Milo listened intently, hanging on every word. A familiar of his own - the power it could bring made his heart quicken.

"We will have to make haste, I sense your pursuers aren't too far from here" Hector continued. "Once ready, I will guide you in the incantation to open the way between realms."

His gaze bored into Milo's. "But be warned - not all spirits are benevolent. You must be focused and strong of will to bond the right one."

Milo met his eyes without flinching. "I am ready, Hector. Lead me through the ritual."

Excitement and fear dueled within him. But his decision was made - with Hector's guidance, he would claim his birthright and forge a new destiny.

Hector extended a ghostly hand. "Join me, Milo. Claim your birthright. Together we will shape the destiny of this world."

Milo's vision faded away and he fell to the ground. When he came back to, he was no longer in the small cave from before, instead in a much larger cavern.

"Where am I?"

"I have brought you into my memories, for we cannot travel to our ancestral home anymore. It has been destroyed, burned to the ground by those heathens of the Alliance of Three." The man paused and looked at Milo with saddened eyes. "Follow me."

Milo followed Hector through the winding caverns, the air growing colder and more stale with each step. Ancient carvings lined the walls, pulsing with a strange violet light. This was a sacred place - Milo could feel the power thrumming in his veins.

At last they came to a great chamber. Arcane symbols glowed on the floor, converging on a central dais. Hector gestured for Milo to stand in the circle.

"We begin at moonrise," he intoned. "You must clear your mind and open your soul to the spirits."

Milo nodded, nerves and anticipation warring inside him.

As moonlight filtered into the chamber, Hector began the ritual. His voice echoed eerily as he chanted in a long-forgotten tongue. The markings flared brighter, bathing Milo in their unearthly glow.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward. Suddenly, he felt it - a tugging at the edge of his consciousness. Voices seemed to whisper from the shadows, some cajoling, others threatening. Milo stood firm, blocking out the distractions. There was one spirit he was meant to bond.

Then, he saw it. A great winged serpent, scales shimmering like the night sky. It circled him, regarding him with intelligent eyes. Milo's heart leapt - this was the one.

"I am Ouroboros," it spoke in his mind. "Join with me, and our power shall be unlimited."

Milo opened himself to the bond, letting the spirit merge with his essence. Raw energy flooded his body to the brink of pain - yet Milo embraced it. He was no longer merely a boy - he was now a Void Mage!

When he opened his eyes, Hector was smiling.

"Well done," his father praised. "You have taken the first step on a long road...my son."

Milo stepped out of the ritual chamber, feeling the power thrumming through his veins. With Ouroboros' ancient spirit fused to his own, his senses were heightened - he could perceive the intricate web of ley lines crisscrossing the earth, the ebb and flow of magical energy.

Hector led him through the winding halls of the Arcanists' sanctum, towards the training grounds outside. Milo's nerves tingled with anticipation.

They emerged into a courtyard ringed by tall standing stones. Other apprentices were already practicing, hurling bolts of fire or telekinetically lifting rocks. Milo watched in awe - soon he would wield such abilities too.

"Pay no attention to them, they are naught but relics of the past," Hector said. "Let's begin with something simple." The man picked up a small pebble. "Move this stone with your mind."

Milo focused on the pebble, picturing it rising into the air. He channeled his will through the conduit of Ouroboros' power. The pebble wobbled, then shot upwards as if fired from a slingshot.

Hector gave an approving nod. "Your control needs work, but that will come with practice. The raw potential is there."

Emboldened, Milo tried again. This time the pebble rose smoothly, orbiting around his head before returning to his palm. A fierce joy rose in his chest. The forces that had always existed beyond his senses were now his to command.

"I knew you were a natural," Hector remarked. "But don't let it go to your head. Mastery takes a lifetime."

Milo nodded.

Milo continued practicing his telekinesis, levitating multiple objects at once. He grew accustomed to the ebb and flow of magical energy through his body.

After a while, Hector said, "I think that's enough for today. You've made excellent progress."

Milo didn't want to stop. The thrill of spellcasting was intoxicating. But he knew Hector was right - pacing himself was important.

As they walked back towards the cavern, Milo said, "Father, do you really think I can avenge my family?"

Hector placed a hand on Milo's shoulder. "The path of revenge is a dangerous one. But yes, with the power of the Void, no one will stand in your way."

Milo clenched his fist. Anger and grief had festered in his heart over his tribe's destruction. Now, with new magic as his weapon, justice could finally be served.

"I'll make them pay for what they did," Milo said darkly. "The Alliance will regret the day they crossed me."

"Patience, my son," cautioned Hector. "Your abilities are still raw. To defeat the Alliance, you must hone both your magic and your mind. But when the time comes...they will feel the full wrath of a Void mage."

Milo's purple eyes flashed with cold determination. The seeds of vengeance had taken root within him. And once grown, there would be a terrible harvest.

"Let us leave these memories," Hector said.

Milo's vision once again faded away. After regaining his consciousness, he found himself back in the small cave.

"What now?" Milo asked.

"You must enter the Fae Academy," Hector responded.

Milo and Hector walked in silence for a while. The winding forest path opened up ahead of them, revealing the Fae Academy once more in all its mystical grandeur.

As they drew nearer, Milo said, "Father, can you tell me about my mother?"

Hector smiled slightly. "Your mother was one of the Samun Prai."

Milo scrunched his nostrils. "Where is she now? Do you know?"

At this, Hector's expression grew somber. "To protect you, Nara and I had to send you back to her home. If the Alliance discovered your abilities, they would have hunted you down. By staying away, I shielded you from their notice."

He placed both hands on Milo's shoulders. "Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. But now that I've found you again, we can make up for lost time."

Looking into Hector's eyes, Milo saw genuine regret and care. His anger began to soften.

"I think I understand," Milo said finally. "You gave up being my father to ensure I'd have a future."

Hector nodded, relief crossing his face. "Come now," he said gently. "Your training resumes tomorrow. But tonight, we celebrate this reunion with a feast!"