The heat of Mahava still clung to the air long after the Watcher had vanished. The ground felt scorched, almost as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. He stood there in silence, watching the wind swirl through the ashes left behind. His thoughts were heavy—not just from the intense trial but from the weight of what lay ahead.
She stepped closer, her eyes scanning the horizon, searching for signs of what was next. "What happens now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He paused, taking a deep breath. Instead of answering, he listened. The wind, the movement of the earth, the distant breathing of the mountains—it all felt sharper, clearer to him now. It was more than just sound; it felt as if every hair on his body had become a receptor, especially the long strands that danced with the breeze, alive to the energy around them.
He focused eastward. "Something is coming," he said, his voice steady but laden with urgency.
She followed his gaze but saw nothing unusual. "How can you tell?" she inquired, skepticism evident in her eyes.
He tilted his head slightly, straining to hear. "I can hear it. It's far, but getting closer."
With that, they resumed their journey east, away from the scorched earth of Mahava. As they walked, the ground transitioned from charred rock to rolling grassy hills, patches of wildflowers blooming vibrantly in contrast to the grim landscape they had left behind. But even as the world around them began to heal, his mind remained alert, attuned to the atmosphere.
With each step, he sensed more—details about their surroundings, but also something deeper within himself.
Then it hit him, a wave of realization that left him momentarily stunned. "How...?" he murmured, half to himself.
Images flashed within him: strange beasts rampaging through a battlefield, skies ablaze with light, shadows creeping over once-thriving cities. Yet more than mere visions, these memories brought emotions that felt achingly familiar—anguish, bravery, betrayal, love. It was as if they were his, yet also belonged to someone else entirely.
"This place… something happened here," he finally said, turning to her. "Not just fire. The Watcher unlocked something."
She studied his face, a look of understanding dawning in her eyes. "I noticed your eyes. They looked different back there. You're changing."
They walked on until the sun began to dip low, casting a warm golden hue over everything. But soon, he noticed her pace slowing, her shoulders sagging under some unseen weight.
Finally, she whispered, "I... I can't go any further. My legs... they ache."
His heart ached for her. He stopped, absorbing her struggle. Without a word, he stepped closer and gently took her hand. Lifting her into his arms felt natural, instinctual. She gasped, her surprise tinged with wonder.
As he carried her, something remarkable happened. His feet gradually lifted off the earth, leaving the grass behind. They weren't flying in the traditional sense, but they hovered—weightless, suspended by an unseen force.
The wind brushed past them softly, a calming embrace. From this height, the world below felt different—quieter, almost serene. She clung to him, wide-eyed and breathless, but soon realized he wasn't losing control. He wasn't drifting; he was guided by an inner compass, a direction keenly felt rather than seen.
Looking down, she gasped at the view, the earth stretching out in rich greens and browns, then back up at him. "How are you doing this?" she whispered, both awe and confusion evident in her tone.
He didn't respond; his focus was ahead. Even without a visible path, he exuded certainty, as if the very earth murmured guidance only he could hear.
Above them, birds began to gather, soaring in calm spirals. Animals peeked from the underbrush, their eyes unafraid. It was as if nature itself recognized him, acknowledging a connection that had only begun to reveal itself.
Then, abruptly, he froze.
He extended a hand behind him, palm outward, and she instinctively stopped.
"What is it?" she whispered, anxiety creeping into her voice.
He stayed silent, eyes closed, listening intently. It felt as if his senses were stretching beyond human limitations; he could hear a distant stream gurgling miles away, the rustle of trees, and the wings of a hawk slicing through the air. But beneath it all, a different sound emerged—low, raspy, and rapid.
She stiffened beside him. "More of those creatures?"
He nodded, fear knotting in his stomach. "Yes... and they're hunting."
He could feel a tingle in his hair—it lifted slightly, not from the wind but in response to a deeper frequency. It was as though his very body became a radar, scanning the energy around them.
"Come," he urged her. "We have to move."
She hesitated, fear flashing across her face, but
he saw the determination behind her eyes.
"Trust me," he said gently, his voice steady. "They're close."
As the shadows surged over the ridge, emerging on all fours with elongated limbs and glowing, malevolent eyes, he made his move. "Hold on," he instructed, and without waiting for a reply, he leaped to the nearest tree. With a whispered breath, he nestled her securely in the branches, the tree curving slightly to shield her.
Then he dropped back down to the ground, ready to face whatever threat loomed.
The creatures lunged without hesitation. One leaped high, aiming straight for him.
What happened next was instinctual and raw.
He inhaled deeply and released a roar—not a roar of sound, but of flame. A torrent of fire erupted from his mouth, a searing force that met the creature mid-flight, incinerating it in an instant.
The remaining beasts paused, uncertainty washing over their predatory instincts.
He exhaled slowly, the fire in his breath dimming. The girl stood behind him, eyes wide not with fear this time but with wonder. He sensed her gaze, though he didn't turn to face her.
"You… breathed fire," she whispered, awe lacing her voice.
"yes I did," he admitted, his voice hushed, almost ashamed. "It came from instinct."
Then, her gaze fell upon him, and he felt the weight of her observation.
His clothing—if it could even be called that—shimmered like woven light. A seamless garment of white and gold clung to his form like silk, yet somehow it held the strength of armor. It pulsed faintly, as if it were alive as if it were part of him.
Hesitantly, she reached out to touch it. "Is it… part of you?"
He glanced down, almost confused. "It doesn't come off."
Her eyes widened. "It's beautiful."
He remained silent, absorbing her admiration.
They resumed walking, but the atmosphere had s
"Hey," he said gently, concern heavy in his voice. "What's wrong?
She looked at him, lost in her thoughts. "I don't understand. Why do you care so much?"
He hesitated, his inner turmoil bubbling to the surface. "Because… I was made to care."
The words hung in the air between them for a moment, heavy with meaning. She stood silent, grappling with the depth of that simple truth.
Meanwhile, miles away, the last surviving creature limped through a dark ravine, its flesh still smoldering—a grim reminder of the fire that had just threatened its kind. It had witnessed the miracle of healing.
Arriving at the depths of the underground nest, it collapsed before a towering figure cloaked in shadows. The creature growled in a guttural language, the urgency palpable.
The message was clear.
The seed has grown.
He is becoming.
The figure stepped forward, a presence that felt both ancient and ominous, eyes like pits of night boring into the distance.