The night was colder than it had been before. Outside, snow had fallen thick and silent, covering the forest floor and dusting the trees like sugar on bread. Inside his shack, Kale sat cross-legged on his leaf bed, hands held out in front of him.
He focused hard, reaching into himself for the threads of insight embedded there. He could feel them, faint but present. With a deep breath, he pulled.
A spark flickered to life between his fingers. Small. Faint. But real.
He grinned. "Okay… come on."
Kale concentrated again, drawing from the knowledge placed inside him after his vision in the Ocean. Another pull, another thought—and this time, flame bloomed. It curled gently over his palm, steady and warm, casting soft light across his tired face.
It wasn't much yet. But it was enough.
He got up and sealed the door as best as he could, stuffing extra leaves into gaps where snow tried to slip through. Once done, he returned to his spot by the wall and held out his hand again. The fire came instantly, glowing strong against the icy air.
This was it.
His start.
Not just survival. Not just warmth. This was power—his power. For the first time in years, Kale felt like he was building something more than traps and shelters.
He was building a future.
"I guess I'm a seeker now," he said quietly, watching the flame swirl gently. "Not just someone who gets lucky with knowledge."
•---•
Morning arrived slow and quiet. Kale pushed open the door and stepped outside into a world wrapped in white. Snow covered everything, lying thick on the ground and clinging to the bare branches above. The sky was a heavy gray, clouds pressing down like they carried more snow beneath them.
Winter had officially arrived.
And he had survived the first night of it.
"Not bad," he muttered, brushing a bit of frost off the doorframe. "Not bad at all."
His satchel still had berries and mushrooms left over from yesterday, so hunting wasn't needed today. His goal wasn't food. It was mastery.
He slung the sack over his shoulder and made his way toward a clearing deep in the woods. The Ocean had shown him this place once—a wide space with little brush and enough room to move around without setting anything important on fire.
When he reached it, he rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. The air was sharp, cold enough to sting his lungs, but he welcomed it. It kept him alert.
Time to try something serious.
Kale raised his hand and tugged at the threads within him. In an instant, fire appeared above his palm. He played with it, shaping its size with thought alone. Smaller. Bigger. Then smaller again. By the end of the session, the flames were as large as a boulder, curling high enough to melt the ice on nearby branches.
He let them shrink back down, sweat forming despite the cold.
Then came the real test.
Could he throw it?
He shaped a small ball of fire, about the size of an apple. He held it carefully, feeling its heat pulse in rhythm with his thoughts. Then he flicked his wrist forward, releasing it like a stone from his hand.
The fire shot ahead and struck a snow-covered log. Sparks flared, smoke rose, and the snow melted instantly.
Kale blinked. Then smiled. "Whoa…"
He spent the rest of the day practicing. Testing limits. Making flames rise and fall with nothing but focus. Sending bursts flying across the clearing, adjusting how much energy he put into each throw. Some missed entirely. Others hit harder than expected. But every attempt taught him something new.
By the time the sun dipped low behind the clouds, his body ached from effort, but his mind was buzzing.
He returned to his shack with snow clinging to his boots and breath fogging the air. He opened the door and stepped inside, rubbing his arms for warmth.
For a second, he almost reached for sticks and flint—but stopped himself.
Right. He didn't need that anymore.
With a thought, flame curled to life in his palm. He held it up, watching the glow reflect in the wooden walls.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I really am doing magic now."
It was strange. It was new. And okay, maybe playing with fire wasn't the smartest thing to do inside a wooden shack. But for once, he allowed himself to smile. To feel joy. To believe he might actually make it through the winter—not just barely surviving, but thriving.
This was his beginning.
His power.
His hope.
And as long as the Ocean kept guiding him, he'd keep moving forward—one flame at a time.