Weeks passed, and Aelion’s days fell into a steady rhythm. Mornings were dedicated to grueling training sessions on the guild’s fields, afternoons to studying technique, and evenings often found him practicing well after the others had retired. The Archery Guild had provided rooms for the new recruits, a small space of his own that felt as much like home as his house back in Aethercrest. He shared the hall with the other recruits, including Renar and Selara, and though they all walked the same path, each seemed set on outdoing the others.

Renar’s skill had proven consistent. No matter how much Aelion pushed himself, the gap remained. Renar always seemed to place his arrows a ring or two closer to the target’s center, a fact he never hesitated to remind Aelion of in his silent, cutting way. Selara, too, was ahead, her shots nearly as steady as Renar’s, though with a quiet humility that Renar lacked.

But Aelion had improved, and he knew it. His shots were straighter, his aim truer. And while he hadn’t yet claimed the top spot in their group, he felt his potential growing with each passing day. Each target he struck, each practice session he completed, filled him with a sense of purpose he had never quite felt before.

On a cool, misty morning, Aelion sat alone in the guild’s dining hall, nursing a simple breakfast of bread and honey with a steaming cup of tea. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting an orange glow over the room, and the quiet hum of voices filled the air as the other recruits chatted over their meals. Despite the early hour, the hall was already buzzing with the energy of the day ahead.

Aelion glanced around, catching sight of Selara seated a few tables away, deep in conversation with one of the senior apprentices. Renar sat at the far end of the room, his expression closed as usual, his gaze focused on the meal in front of him. Aelion looked away quickly, unwilling to invite any sort of encounter this early in the day.

He returned his attention to his breakfast, savoring the warm, sweet taste of the honey. Just as he was about to take another bite, he noticed someone approaching his table. Looking up, he was surprised to see Caidren standing before him, a slight, almost hesitant smile on his face.

Caidren’s usual confidence seemed somewhat subdued this morning, his posture less assured than usual. There was a trace of reluctance in his eyes, as if he were unsure of what he was about to say.

“Fare morning, Aelion,” Caidren spoke after hemming, “I’ve been thinking all night about how I was to approach this. Well I guess I should jump straight to the point, I’m not the best archer like I announced the day we met, and I need help. I only ever shot crossbows, which I was good at, so I assumed using a traditional bow would be simple.”

Aelion set his cup down, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He had seen Caidren struggle over the past few weeks, his initial confidence chipped away with each training session. The blond-haired recruit from Moonglade had consistently fallen short, his arrows rarely striking close to the target’s center, no matter how hard he seemed to try.

Still, Aelion hadn’t expected Caidren to approach him directly, especially not with an attitude that bordered on humility.

“Wow, I must admit, I am not only surprised in your willingness to come to me, Caidren, but to choose me over Selara or Renar.”

Caidren shifted on his feet, his gaze flicking to the side before meeting Aelion’s eyes again. He took a deep breath, the reluctance giving way to determination.

“I chose you because you seem determined, kind, and to be the type to not judge me or humiliate me more than I already have managed myself. Not that I think Selara would do that, but Renar, for sure would scoff at me, making me feel inferior.”

Aelion felt a small smile tug at his lips. He had been waiting for this moment, hoping Caidren would eventually put aside his pride and reach out for help. Despite the initial rivalry between them, Aelion respected Caidren’s willingness to ask for assistance.

“Of course, I’d be glad to help,” Aelion replied, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he gestured for Caidren to sit. “We can go over some basics now, if you like, and maybe meet on the field later.”

Caidren nodded gratefully, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Aelion. The reluctance in his expression had softened, replaced by genuine interest.

As they settled in, Aelion leaned forward, gathering his thoughts. Archery had always felt instinctive to him, but he knew there were countless intricacies that could make or break a shot. He started from the beginning, explaining the foundational principles that had helped him improve.

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“It’s all about focus and form,” Aelion began, his tone serious but encouraging. “You need a steady stance first and foremost. If your body isn’t stable, your shot will waver before you even release it. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees relaxed, shoulders loose. It seems simple, but getting your body aligned makes all the difference.”

He demonstrated with his own posture, showing how even the slightest misalignment could throw off a shot. Caidren watched carefully, his expression thoughtful as he adjusted his own stance, following Aelion’s example.

Once Caidren was comfortable with his stance, Aelion moved on to the next part—how to hold the bow and draw the arrow.

“Your grip needs to be firm but not too tight,” he explained, holding his hands in a way that mimicked drawing a bow. “If you grip it too tightly, your arm will start to tense, and you’ll lose control over your aim. Let your fingers hold the bow, not your whole hand.”

Caidren attempted to mimic the motion, his fingers clenching around an imaginary bow. Aelion couldn’t help but notice the tension in Caidren’s hand, a stiffness that indicated just how uncomfortable he was with the technique. Caidren’s natural instinct seemed to be holding too tightly, trying to control the weapon entirely through force rather than balance. The feeling of other people around them watching them would also tamper with his focus.

“Relax,” Aelion said, giving him a small nod of encouragement. “Think of the bow as an extension of your arm, not something you’re trying to wrestle into submission.”

A small flash of frustration passed over Caidren’s face, but he took a deep breath and tried again, this time loosening his grip slightly. Aelion smiled as he watched the improvement.

“Yes, exactly, once you get used to the positioning, it will become second nature. Not that I am an expert, but I can tell you that your posture right now is better than it was just a minute ago.”

With the basics in place, Aelion moved on to the next part—aiming and releasing.

“Your aim starts with your focus. Find a single point on the target and lock onto it. Don’t just look at the whole target, pick one spot, and don’t take your eyes off it,” Aelion instructed. “Once you’re ready, take a breath and release. Let the bow do the work.”

He demonstrated again, mimicking the draw and release of a bowstring, the precision in his movement clear. Caidren watched closely, his brow furrowed in concentration as he processed the advice.

“Now, as for what you can do in your free time,” Aelion continued, leaning back slightly, “it’s about building muscle memory. That means practicing the same motion again and again until it becomes second nature. Spend time each day just going through the motions, even if you’re not using the bow. Repetition is what turns a good archer into a great one.”

Caidren nodded, the determination in his expression growing with each word. It was clear that he was serious about improving, his initial reluctance fading as Aelion explained the intricacies of the craft.

After their conversation, Aelion could see that Caidren’s confidence was beginning to rebuild itself, but this time with a more grounded foundation. It was one thing to have natural skill, but another entirely to have a clear understanding of the craft. And for the first time, Aelion felt that Caidren might be willing to commit to the work rather than relying solely on his own bravado.

As they finished their breakfast, Caidren looked at him with a sense of newfound respect, the glint of rivalry replaced by something closer to camaraderie.

“Thank you Aelion, I can’t even describe with words the level of gratitude I have for you now. I apologize for my cockiness coming into this guild, I see now that it had consumed me, making me out to be a wanker.”

Aelion smiled, nodding in acknowledgment. “Happy to help. It’s not an easy path, but if you keep at it, you’ll see the improvement.”

Just as they were preparing to leave the dining hall, Selara entered, her gaze landing on Aelion and Caidren with a curious look. She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Look at you Aelion, breaking Mr. Caidren’s assholishness. I see that you improved your stance, however, maybe now you can start competing against us big shots!”

The three of them shared a laugh, the tension from their early days as recruits now softened by shared experience and mutual respect. The rivalry was still there, but it was tempered by a growing sense of unity, a bond formed through countless hours of training, shared meals, and the pursuit of a common goal.

“Alright, Caidren, and Selara, if you’d like to join, let's go practice on the targets outside. I need to master my shot so I can begin practicing shots while I am moving.”

As they left the hall together, Aelion felt a renewed sense of purpose. Helping Caidren had reminded him of his own journey, of the struggles he had faced and overcome. It was a reminder that they were all learning, all striving for something greater. And in that moment, Aelion realized that his path wasn’t just about beating Renar or proving himself. It was about becoming the best archer he could be, and helping those around him become better, too.

With a final glance at the targets lined up on the training grounds outside, Aelion felt the fire of determination burning within his chest. To his side however, he felt sneering eyes staring at him. Renar. His arms crossed with a devilish set of eyes and a smug grin as he turned his back to them, walking towards the town and away from the guild. Aelion wondered what that was all about, but he shrugged it off, focusing on the task at hand.

The road ahead was long, but he knew he was ready for whatever came next, his dying need to succeed his father’s dreams, and now his own dreams would envelope him.