The ember pulsed in Kahel's chest long after he left the woods. It throbbed faintly, like a second heartbeat, slow and steady but unmistakable.
He lay in his small attic room that night, staring at the cracked ceiling as moonlight spilled in through the shutters. Sleep refused to come. His mind replayed the moment in the clearing over and over, searching for meaning, for answers.
What was that flame inside him?
The next morning, he woke before dawn, the ember still there, pulsing stronger than before. He felt it with every breath, a warmth that spread through his limbs. It made him restless, agitated, as if his body couldn't contain the energy.
At the butcher's shop, he worked in a haze. The knives felt lighter in his hands, the buckets of meat less heavy. His reflexes were sharper; when a heavy cleaver slipped from Gérard's grasp, Kahel caught it before it hit the floor. The butcher grunted in surprise, then waved him off without comment.
Kahel left the shop early, unable to shake the feeling that something had changed. He wandered through the village, ignoring the whispers, until his feet brought him back to the woods.
The air felt different here now, as if the forest recognized him, or perhaps he was seeing it differently. The light seemed sharper, the sounds clearer. He could hear the rustle of a fox in the undergrowth, the creak of branches in the wind, the distant call of a bird.
Kahel closed his eyes and focused.
The ember stirred.
He reached for it, unsure what he was doing, but needing to try. His breath deepened, slow and steady. His heartbeat slowed. The world around him seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth in his chest.
He pictured the flame, small and fragile, glowing in the darkness of his mind.
Grow, he thought.
The ember flickered in response, and a sudden warmth surged through him. It wasn't just heat — it was pressure, like something straining to break free. His skin tingled. His hands trembled.
Then it burst.
A sudden wave of energy erupted from him, invisible but real. The leaves on the trees shivered. Dust and small stones lifted briefly from the ground, as if caught in a silent wind. Kahel gasped, stumbling back, his pulse racing.
The ember in his chest dimmed, but it did not die.
He stood in the clearing, breathing hard, and for the first time, he smiled. A small, fierce smile.
He didn't know what this power was. He didn't know how to control it. But it was his, and it was real.
Far from the clearing, hidden deep in the shadows, the figure watched. The robed figure's gaze followed Kahel's every movement, their face still hidden. They remained perfectly still, as if part of the forest itself.
A faint whisper drifted from their lips, too soft for Kahel to hear.
"He has awakened."
Then the figure vanished into the darkness, leaving no trace of their presence.
Kahel, oblivious, stood in the clearing, the wind stirring his hair, the ember pulsing quietly in his chest.
He had taken the first step, but the path ahead was long and treacherous.
And unseen, forces beyond his understanding were already moving.