The next few months were unlike anything Liam had experienced before. He had always been a fast learner—his mind sharp, his ability to adapt nearly unparalleled. But learning Quenya, and through it, magic itself, was an entirely different challenge.
At first, it was frustrating. The ancient elven tongue demanded not only precise pronunciation but also a level of emotional and ntal discipline Liam wasn't used to. Sindarin had always felt more natural—closer to the languages he already knew. Quenya, however, was sothing else entirely.
Cathbad was relentless. Every morning, before sunrise, the druid would wake him with new words and phrases to morize, correcting his speech over and over again until the words flowed as smoothly as breath. Liam often found himself muttering under his breath throughout the day, practicing even while doing mundane tasks.
Triss stayed for a few days longer, watching his training with curiosity, but ultimately, she knew she had to return to Kaer Morhen. She had made sure Liam was safe, that he was healing and had a path forward. But she had her own obligations.
"You're in good hands," she told him the morning she left.
"Yeah. Sure. Tell the others I'm still alive." Liam said and also thanked her again for saving his life back then. He hadn't forgotten the pain he felt from the druids and was sure to teach those guys a lesson.
"I will. Don't burn the forest down." She smirked.
As his grasp of Quenya improved, so did his control over chaos. And Liam showed his talent. His first source of power which he was close to was fire. Even though fire was kind of a taboo, it was still loved by Liam.
One evening, under Cathbad's watchful gaze, Liam whispered a word in Quenya—"Nar"—and a small fla flickered to life in his palm. Unlike before, when he had tried to use fire magic through Sindarin, this felt natural. The warmth didn't scorch his skin; it was like an extension of himself.
"Good. Fire listens to passion, but it is also the most dangerous of the elents. If you let your emotions waver too much, it will consu you." Cathbad was impressed.
The next challenge was water.
At the edge of a stream, Cathbad instructed Liam to focus not on bending the water to his will but on feeling its rhythm, its natural state. It took him days of practice, but eventually, he managed to summon a small stream of water into his hands, shaping it into a floating sphere before letting it splash back into the river.
"Water does not force itself," Cathbad explained. "It adapts, flows, finds the path of least resistance. It can be gentle or relentless, but never reckless."
Wind and earth ca next, both presenting unique challenges.
Wind was elusive, difficult to grasp. It wasn't about summoning gusts of air but rather becoming part of the motion itself. When Liam finally managed to stir the breeze with a soft "Sul", he could feel the way the air wrapped around him, responding to his breath.
Earth, on the other hand, was stubborn. It required absolute control, complete focus. There was no commanding the ground—only earning its cooperation. It took him weeks to finally shift a handful of stones without brute force.
By the end of the second month, Liam had accomplished sothing remarkable: he had access to all four elental sources.
Even Cathbad, who had trained many apprentices in his long life, was astonished. "This is unheard of," he admitted. "Most mages struggle to attune themselves to even two elents, let alone all four. Whatever power resides in you, child… is impressive." Even Cathbad, who had trained many apprentices in his long life, was astonished. He was even more surprised that Liam would go for all the elents. This wasn't conventional at all.
Liam didn't reply. He simply clenched his fist, feeling the hum of magic beneath his skin.
With every success, however, ca hardship.
Magic was not simply about reciting words—it was about intent, about channeling one's own energy into the world. So days, Liam collapsed from sheer exhaustion, his body wracked with pain from overuse.
There were monts where he felt magic slip beyond his control—fire that burned too hot, wind that howled too fiercely, water that refused to settle. Each mistake was a lesson, but every lesson had consequences.
"Power without balance will destroy you. You must understand that magic is not about strength alone. It is about harmony." Cathbad had said.
By the ti winter began to set in, Liam had reached a level of magic control that would have taken most mages years. He could summon fire at will, call the wind to his aid, manipulate water, and shift the earth beneath his feet. His understanding of Quenya was far from perfect, but he could weave spells far more effectively than ever before.
But he also knew he had only scratched the surface.
Cathbad observed him one evening, as Liam practiced drawing symbols into the dirt—ancient glyphs that enhanced spellcasting.
"You have co far," the druid said. "But you still have much to learn."
"I know." Liam exhaled.
"Good. Then you are ready for the next step." Cathbad smiled.
Liam turned to him, curious.
"The power you have awakened is rare. But it is still unrefined. If you wish to master it, you must understand not just the elents—but the very nature of Chaos itself."
Thus Liam had finally started his transition from the basics to moderate level
Oxenfurt's streets were quiet at this hour, save for the occasional drunken student stumbling ho or a watchman making his rounds. The city was a scholar's haven by day, but by night, the shadows stretched long, concealing things far worse than re thieves.
Clint Barton moved through an alleyway, hiding the bow slung across his back. This wasn't the first ti soone had put a price on his head, but usually, he knew who was after him. This ti, there were no whispers in the streets, no rcenaries lurking near the docks. Just a feeling—an unnatural chill in the air, a weight pressing against his instincts.
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