The last few days had been a whirlwind activity for Orin, Lysandra, and Tio. After reinforcing the magical barrier to protect Edua, Orin visited his mother multiple times to ensure the enchantment held strong. Each visit brought a mixture of relief and anxiety, as he watched the dark power struggle against the prison he and Lysandra had crafted. Satisfied that Edua was as safe as they could make her, Orin and his friends booked the first flight to the Swiss Alps. Their destination: the hidden kingdom of the Frost Elves. During the flight, they strategized about how to approach the Elves' king and seek his help in mastering Water magic. Orin hoped they might even gain the Elves as allies against Eileen's coven.

"How do we even find the hidden realm without a map?" Tio asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "Orin will sense the Water magic," Lysandra reassured him. "He can ground himself into the mountains' rocks and listen to their voices. They'll guide us.” Once they landed in Zurich, the trio rented a car and drove towards the Alps. The majestic mountains loomed ahead, their peaks glistening with snow. Orin felt a strange sense of anticipation as they ascended the winding roads. This journey felt different—more significant—than anything he had experienced before. After hours of driving, they reached a secluded spot where Orin asked Tio to pull over. The air was crisp and cold, carrying the faint scent of pine. Orin stepped out, closed his eyes, and extended his Earth magic into the ground. He felt the pulse of the mountains, the ancient whispers of stone and ice. Slowly, he tuned in to the subtle hum of Water magic. "This way," he said, leading Lysandra and Tio deeper into the forest. They walked for what felt like hours, following Orin's instincts. The landscape grew more surreal, with towering ice formations and crystalline streams that seemed to glow with an inner light. Finally, they reached a hidden entrance, a shimmering veil of frost that concealed the Frost Elves' city.

The city itself was breathtaking. Everything was made of ice, perfectly shaped, and carved into elaborate structures. People walked the streets, their footsteps leaving no trace on the pristine ground. As the trio marveled at the sight, they found themselves surrounded by guards, their faces stern and unyielding. "State your business," one of the guards commanded, his voice echoing in the frosty air. "We seek an audience with your higher priest, Hvarj," Orin said, trying to keep his tone respectful. The guards exchanged glances before cuffing them with magical chains. The chains tingled with energy, restricting their movements as they were led to the Higher Palace. Inside, the grandeur of the ice architecture was even more impressive, with intricate designs that sparkled under the soft, ambient light. Queen Duhilen awaited them, flanked by her son, Prince Huter, and Hvarj, the great Water master who had served the Elves' royal bloodline for centuries. Hvarj dissolved the chains with a wave of his hand, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the visitors. "Explain yourselves," Hvarj demanded. Orin took a deep breath and began, "We are here to understand Water magic and to begin my training. I seek your guidance and wisdom.” Lysandra and Tio held their breaths, worried about the reception they were receiving. The atmosphere was tense, and Orin chose to omit the details of his lineage, as his friends had advised. Queen Duhilen looked at them with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "Your request is unusual. Why should we help you?” Hvarj's concern was evident, but after a moment of contemplation, he spoke. "We will consider your request. For now, you will be our guests until tomorrow, when we shall decide your fate.” The guards escorted them to their rooms, where they were invited to dine later. The rooms were as magnificent as the rest of the city, with walls of ice that glowed softly, creating a serene and calming environment. Despite the beauty around them, an undercurrent of tension and uncertainty pervaded the air. At dinner, they were served a variety of exotic dishes, each more delicious than the last.

During dinner, the queen and Hvarj remained silent, their eyes keenly observing the trio. The grand dining hall, adorned with ice sculptures and gleaming chandeliers, echoed with the soft clinks of silverware. The tension in the room was palpable, and Orin could feel the weight of their scrutiny. Suddenly, Hvarj broke the silence. "I know you are not ordinary humans," he said, his voice resonating with authority. "I can sense your powers. Tell me, why do you seek my training?” Orin exchanged a worried glance with his friends. He took a deep breath, knowing that their mission's success hinged on their answers. "My father was a Rainfaller," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "He never had the chance to teach me Water magic. I want to be worthy of his legacy.” The queen leaned forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. "And your friends?" she asked, her voice carrying an edge of suspicion. "Why are they here with you?” Lysandra, sensing the gravity of the moment, stood and knelt before the queen and Hvarj. "Your Majesty, High Priest," she began respectfully, "Tio and I are historians. We are deeply interested in studying elemental magic. We joined Orin to support his training and, at the same time, to collect information for our studies.” Hvarj's eyes lingered on Lysandra, his gaze penetrating. There was something about her aura that intrigued him—it was stronger, more intense than the others. However, he decided to probe no further for the moment. "Very well," he said, his voice softer but still commanding. "I believe you. You pose no threat to us, and no one could defeat me within these walls.” The queen nodded in agreement, her demeanor relaxing slightly. "You may stay and continue your studies. We will assist you in your quest, Orin.” Relief washed over Orin, Lysandra, and Tio. They knew they had passed the first test, but they also understood that many more challenges lay ahead. After dinner, they retired to their rooms, where they discussed the day's events and prepared for the rigorous training that awaited them. As he drifted into an uneasy sleep, his dreams were filled with visions of water and ice, swirling and merging in intricate patterns. He saw Hvarj, standing at the edge of a vast, frozen lake, his eyes piercing and wise. The ancient elf seemed to be calling out to him, beckoning him to embrace the challenge ahead. Then he saw Lysandra kept as a prisoner of the Elves’ queen and Hvarj injured by Eileen's fellows. He woke up in sweat, disturbed by that nightmare - took a deep breath, and went back to sleep, hoping that it was just a dream.

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The next morning, Hvarj met them in the courtyard. The sun reflected off the icy structures, creating a dazzling display of light. "Today, we begin your training in earnest," he announced. "Water magic is as much about understanding yourself as it is about controlling the element.” Hvarj led them to a serene lake surrounded by towering ice formations. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the sky above like a perfect mirror. "To master Water magic, you must learn to connect with it on a fundamental level," Hvarj explained. "Feel its flow, its rhythm. Let it become a part of you.” Hvarj was a very tall, old, and thin Elf, his body shaped and refined by centuries of wielding water magic. His elongated frame towered over Orin and his friends, giving him an almost ethereal quality as if he were more spirit than flesh. His skin, pale and translucent like the ice that surrounded them, seemed to shimmer faintly with an inner light. His hair, silver and flowing like a waterfall, cascaded down his back, framing a face that was both wise and stern. His eyes, a deep and penetrating blue, held the depths of ancient oceans within them. They were the eyes of someone who had seen countless ages past, who had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, and who had mastered the very essence of water itself. Hvarj's hands, though delicate and slender, were marked by the strength and precision that came from a lifetime of casting spells and commanding the element of water. His fingers moved with a fluid grace, each gesture purposeful and imbued with power. When he spoke, his voice was calm and steady, like a river flowing smoothly over stones, yet it carried the weight of authority and the certainty of someone who had long been in command. Hvarj was not merely an Elf; he was the embodiment of water magic, a living testament to its power and beauty. His very presence commanded respect and awe, and Orin knew that he was in the presence of a true master, someone who could teach him not only to control water but to understand and harmonize with it on the deepest level.

Orin started his training with Hvarj early in the morning, the chill of the Alpine air sharpening his senses. The very first lesson was to listen to the water’s flow, not just externally but within his own body. Hvarj's voice, calm and steady like a flowing river, guided him. "Focus, Orin," he instructed, "open your mind to new sounds and sensations. Water magic is about connecting with the fluidity of existence, with the constant motion and change.” Orin was confused at first. Earth magic, his initial training ground, was about feeling the ground beneath his feet—the solidity, the firmness, something tangible and reliable. Water magic, however, was more elusive. It was about the inner self, about tuning into the rhythms and flows that were not immediately visible. As the day passed, Hvarj's patient and comprehensive teachings began to take root. Orin spent hours at the main river, sitting on its banks, trying to listen to its voice and its voice only. At first, all he could hear was the rush of water over rocks, the occasional splash of a fish breaking the surface, and the wind rustling through the trees. But Hvarj encouraged him to go deeper. "The river speaks a language of its own," he said. "It can teach you more than just its flow; it can teach you about yourself.” Orin closed his eyes, trying to shut out the distractions.

Gradually, he began to feel the water’s rhythm, its pulse, almost like a heartbeat. Time seemed to blur as he sat there, his senses expanding, reaching out. He felt a strange sensation, a whispering at the edge of his consciousness. It was faint at first, but it grew stronger, more insistent. "Flow with me," it said. Orin felt hypnotized, a pull towards the river that was almost impossible to resist. He stood up, moving towards the water's edge, his mind locked onto the whisper. Just as he was about to step into the river, Hvarj's hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back and breaking the connection. Orin stumbled, blinking in confusion. “That was the Syren's Whisper,” Hvarj said, his voice edged with concern. “One of the most dangerous, rare, and powerful Water effects. Only a few can hear it. It’s a sign of greatness, but also of potential peril.” Hvarj looked at Orin with a mix of awe and apprehension. The last time someone had heard that whisper was Hvarj himself, under the tutelage of Merlin. The realization that Orin was special, potentially even more so than he had initially thought, dawned on Hvarj. But with that potential came danger. The Syren's Whisper could lure even the strongest minds into the depths, never to return. They ended the day's lesson there, needing rest and reflection.

While Orin was practicing, Lysandra and Tio spent their time exploring the palace library. The library was a vast, labyrinthine space filled with ancient tomes and scrolls that chronicled the history of the Elves' realm and the magic they guarded. They poured over texts that spoke of the time when Merlin came to the Elves, entrusting them with the guardianship of Water magic. They read about the wars the Elves had fought to protect their secrets, the spells and enchantments they used, and the heroes who had risen in times of need. Lysandra found a particularly intriguing book about Morgana and her desperate attempts to regain her lost connection with Water magic. According to the text, Morgana's efforts were in vain because her connection had been irrevocably stripped away by her mother, Sadne. In her fury, Morgana cursed the Elves' royal bloodline, prophesying that one of their future royals would betray them in a time of peace, driven by a hunger for more power. The prophecy hung heavily over Lysandra as she read. She felt a chill run down her spine, wondering if the betrayal could be linked to their current situation. She shared her findings with Tio, who was equally concerned. They both knew that they had to tread carefully. The Elves' suspicion and their precarious position as guests could turn dangerous if they were not cautious.