The next few weeks passed in a blur for Viktor and Arelos.

Each morning, they tried their luck at the Outrider’s Den, but opportunities dwindled as winter clung stubbornly to the city. Bryna often greeted them with an apologetic smile, her warm demeanor doing little to soften the sting of rejection. They managed to secure a few shifts early on, but most days ended in disappointment, the cold air heavy with frustration.

Occasionally, they found success in odd jobs around the city—running errands for merchants or clearing snow from doorways—but these opportunities were few and far between. As the days passed, their savings dwindled, leaving them with only a handful of coppers.

Arelos had initially grumbled at Viktor’s decision to spend their last silver on education, claiming, “You can’t eat knowledge.” Yet, after the first lesson at the Temple of Sahira, Arelos returned with his eyes alight, fascinated by the world of numbers and theories he encountered there. His initial complaints quietly vanished, and he eagerly attended his lessons each evening, finding joy in the structured learning environment and intellectual stimulation that he had never previously experienced.

While Arelos immersed himself in his studies, Viktor spent his evenings either wandering the market in search of odd jobs or retreating to the attic, where he methodically practiced his burgeoning magical abilities. Each day, he measured his progress against the metrics he and Arelos had established, steadily honing his control and precision.

Viktor focused his efforts on simple objects, maintaining a growing mastery over his powers. A single copper coin could now hover for over a minute within arm’s reach, a feat he had initially struggled with. Expanding his skill, he also managed to lift slightly heavier items—a small rock, a twig—despite the increased challenge they posed. Furthermore, he could slide a coin almost two meters away from him, though any further and control slipped from his grasp.

But Viktor was not one to rest on his laurels. Beyond the exercises he and Arelos devised, he began experimenting with more complex maneuvers, pushing the boundaries of his growing magic. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and shadows settled over the attic, Viktor was in the midst of a new experiment when Arelos returned from the temple, his cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Viktor greeted him with a wave, quickly beckoning him over. “Check this out!” he called, a note of excitement in his voice. In each hand, Viktor held a copper coin, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. With a precise synchronization developed through hours of practice, he released both coins simultaneously.

For a moment, the coins hung suspended in the air, a testament to Viktor’s burgeoning skill. Arelos watched with wide eyes as both coins hovered independently, neither falling nor moving, until, a few seconds later, they succumbed to gravity and clattered to the floor.

“Two at once!” Arelos exclaimed, genuinely impressed. “You’re getting better at this each day.” His gaze lingered on the coins, a mixture of admiration and curiosity shining in his dark eyes.

Viktor shrugged modestly, though he couldn’t hide the pride etched on his face. “I’ve been practicing,” he admitted. “Started small, figured out how to keep two coins hovering together. I’m not there yet, but it’s a start.”

Arelos pondered for a moment before speaking. “Why do you start by holding them out? Why not lift them from the ground?”

Viktor chuckled, understanding the question. “I can’t lift both from the ground up,” he explained. “Not yet, at least. But if I get them positioned first, I can keep them there for a bit—longer each time I try.”

He gestured to the fallen coins. “It used to only last a second, maybe two, but now I can do more. I’m hoping that if I can hold them long enough, eventually, I might even be able to push them upwards.”

Arelos nodded, visibly impressed by Viktor’s dedication and foresight. “It sounds like a solid plan. Building up stamina, then transitioning to new movements.”

“There’s still a lot I don’t know,” Viktor admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But with what we’re both learning, maybe we can figure it out together.”

They shared a moment of mutual understanding, the camaraderie between them having grown stronger with each passing day. Each had embarked on their journey of discovery—Arelos through the structured lessons at the temple, Viktor through the magic that simmered beneath his skin. These shared experiences drew them closer, forging a bond that went beyond mere survival in the snow-laden city.

“How were your lessons today?” Viktor asked, genuinely interested in Arelos’s progress.

Arelos leaned back against the wooden wall of the attic, a satisfied smile ghosting across his lips as he recounted his day. “They’re getting more interesting with each session,” he confessed. “Today, we covered advanced calculations—stuff I never even knew existed. It’s challenging, but I like it. It feels like I’m finally learning what I’ve always wanted to understand.”

Viktor listened attentively, nodding along with Arelos’s narrative. The change in his friend was evident; gone was the skepticism that had once held him back, replaced now with an insatiable thirst for knowledge.

“That’s amazing,” Viktor remarked, genuinely thrilled for Arelos’s newfound passion. “I had a feeling you’d take to it once you got started. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up teaching me a thing or two soon!”

Arelos laughed, the sound light and genuine, cutting through the chill of the attic like a beacon of warmth. “I wouldn’t mind,” he said, sharing in the optimism that filled the small space. “Between your magic and my studies, I’d say we’re onto something here.”

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In the quiet attic, Viktor and Arelos talked late into the evening. Arelos, in his usual dry and straightforward manner, shared stories from his recent lessons at the Temple of Sahira.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Arelos leaned back against the wall, his tone as steady as ever. "It’s strange," he said, "how numbers can describe everything, from the simplest things to patterns so precise they almost feel alive. The more I learn, the more it feels like unlocking a language the world’s been speaking all along."

As Viktor concentrated on the coins, Arelos's words lingered in his mind, offering a quiet sense of clarity and purpose amid the struggle to grasp the unknown.

For long moments, their conversation dwindled into companionable silence, filled only with the sounds of Viktor’s controlled breathing and the occasional shift of floorboards under the fabric of their cloaks. Viktor’s gaze remained steady, eyes fixed on the coins that wobbled and clinked lightly as they lifted inch by painstaking inch.

"You’ve kept them up longer than last time," Arelos observed, tone still calm, but carrying a trace of admiration. "Your control is improving."

Viktor grinned, determination flaring as the coins hovered amidst the space between wanting to fall and staying afloat. "Trying to set a new record," he murmured, breath a whisper as he allowed his focus to envelope him fully. "There's more I can do. I know it."

Encouraged by Arelos’s affirmation, Viktor pushed his focus until it threatened to unravel, feeling the warm rush of potential as the soft clinking rhythm of two coins echoed subtly in the attic. When fatigue crept at the edges of his hold, Viktor finally relented, allowing the coins a moment of reprieve as they settled again onto the floor.

Arelos nodded approvingly. "Balance of stress and rest," he remarked, pulling from the philosophies that informed his recent studies. "You’re doing well, Viktor."

Flushed with warmth from Arelos’s praise and the physical exertion, Viktor plopped down beside him, a hint of exhaustion tracing his features. "Can't let any glory go to my head," Viktor joked, his breath slowly returning to its usual steady rhythm.

Settling into more comfortable positions, the boys allowed themselves the luxury of another extended conversation. As Arelos delved into more of what he had covered in his studies, his eyes lit up with an uncommon kind of excitement, speaking of permutations and possibilities with a fervor that suited his typical pragmatism.

“When you solve equations, it feels like juggling pieces of a bigger puzzle,” Arelos said, his voice laced with respectful awe. "Each piece moves, and if you’re careful, the pattern reveals itself—a kind of mathematical symphony, almost."

Viktor’s fingers drummed idly over one of the fallen coins as he listened intently, watching Arelos explain with a vivid passion tempered by logic. "We should find a way to show off your newfound talents," Viktor suggested teasingly, earning a self-aware laugh from Arelos.

"No need for that," Arelos replied, readjusting his glasses and shielding his sheepish amusement with a grin. "Though I might miss this," he confessed suddenly, eyes clouding with an unexpected wistfulness.

Viktor looked at him, puzzled. "Miss what?"

Arelos chuckled softly. "The tutoring. Only got about five more weeks left," he admitted, the shadow of inevitability weighing down his usually resilient tone.

Viktor thought carefully, mulling over Arelos’s words, then offered a bright thought. "You may be running low on official lessons, but you’ve still got the library, right? That’s something."

"Sure," Arelos agreed, though his voice retained a certain dourness. "But it's not all-encompassing. Access to the first floor is mainly for beginners, and... it’s lacking in range for advanced subjects. The answers I seek might be further buried."

The reality grounded them both, an awareness of restriction coloring the boundless opportunities they had enjoyed only moments before.

Arelos sighed, his breath visible in the cold air of the attic. "Anyway," he concluded, resolve clear in his voice. "What we have is what we have. And whining won’t change it."

Viktor clapped him on the back, feeling the camaraderie expand with a buoyant sense of mutual encouragement. "We’ll work it out," Viktor said, projecting his optimism.

The chill of winter crept deeper into the attic as evening gave way to night, shadows lengthening with the muted glow of the moon filtering through the narrow window. Arelos and Viktor shared more stories, reflected on their day's small triumphs, and discussed plans for what might come next. As the hour grew late, a comfortable heaviness settled, sleep growing irresistible in the warmth of their shared space.

"We better get some sleep," Arelos conceded, watching the shadows settle comfortably amidst the black silhouettes draped upon the room. "Need to see if Bryna has work for us tomorrow."

Viktor suppressed a yawn, agreeing with a nod as he fumbled for the thick blanket. "Good night, Arelos," he mumbled, a comfortable hum sinking his gratitude into the pleasant depths of impending slumber.

"Night," Arelos responded, disappearing into his own blanket cocoon as the night cloaked them both, the chill air replaced with warmth from within as they fell into an easy, welcome sleep—dreams taking them toward the adventures of tomorrow.

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As Viktor lay in the comforting embrace of the thick blanket, his thoughts meandered into the realm of nostalgia, a familiar path he frequented in the quiet moments before sleep. He remembered snippets of his early life: the warmth of his family's hearth, the sound of his sister Alara's laughter, and the firm yet loving guidance of his father, Sanos.

Though time had blurred the sharp edges of grief, there was still a lingering pain that accompanied these memories. It was less acute now, less like the fresh wound that it once was, but the ache remained, a whisper of what had been lost too soon.

A part of Viktor always wondered what his family would think of his current circumstances. If his father were here, what would Sanos say about the life Viktor had carved out for himself amid hardship and struggle? Would he see the resilience in his son's eyes, or would the shadow of disappointment cloud his vision?

A soft sigh escaped Viktor's lips as he allowed himself to ponder these thoughts. He liked to believe that his father would be proud—not of the hardships Viktor had endured, but of the strength he had shown in the face of adversity. Viktor hoped that his survival, though meager, would be a testament to the values instilled in him by the Avlorios family.

His thoughts shifted to Alyssa, unbidden but welcome in the quiet of the night. In his imagination, he could see her in the capital, walking the grand halls of the academy, her face lit with determination as she studied under the kingdom's greatest mages. It was a life he had always dreamt of, one filled with purpose and promise, far removed from the shadows he now lived within.

She must think him dead, just as everyone else did. The thought twisted painfully in his chest. Did she mourn him, or had the demands of her new life left little room for the past? Would she ever learn the truth—that he had survived, and that he still thought of her often in the quiet hours of the night?

The thought lingered, bittersweet, before Viktor forced himself to let it go. His gaze flickered to Arelos, who lay a short distance away, already enveloped in the quietude of sleep. The shadows cast by the moonlight played softly upon Arelos's features, highlighting the tenacity and resourcefulness that had been vital to both their survival.

An unexpected wave of empathy washed over Viktor, along with the realization that he might not have made it this far without Arelos's help. The casual moments of wisdom, unspoken understanding, and the warmth of friendship had filled the hollow spaces left by loss and uncertainty.

With a gentle sigh, Viktor closed his eyes, letting the darkness serenade him into slumber. As sleep overcame him, gratitude and hope wove a fine tapestry of comfort and resolve that guided him into the quiet depths of night. In his dreams, Viktor imagined a world where possibility was boundless and their journey's end held the promise of brighter days.