đź“– Rise Beyond Shadows
Chapter 16 – First Steps
The first step toward greatness rarely feels like greatness at all.
For Aiden, it began with a broom.
At fourteen, he was put in charge of cleaning the training hall every morning. Most of the older boys groaned when assigned the chore, but Aiden treated it differently. He swung the broom like a staff, moved in arcs and strikes, practiced footwork between each sweep of dust. By the time the hall was spotless, his shirt clung to his back with sweat, and his arms burned.
The others laughed.
"Fighting dirt won't make you stronger."
"Keep sweeping, broom boy!"
But Aiden didn't care. To him, the broom was a weapon. Every stroke, every spin, every repetition was practice. He told himself it was training for when a real chance finally came.
That chance arrived one morning when Master Marcus, the orphanage's retired soldier-turned-instructor, watched from the doorway. Marcus was known for his sharp eyes, the kind that saw through excuses and laziness. He rarely spoke more than a sentence to anyone.
But that day, he said, "You've got fight in you, boy. Let's see if you can use it."
The broom slipped from Aiden's hands. His heart pounded. Was this real?
"Sir?" he asked, voice tight with disbelief.
Marcus tossed him a wooden practice sword. "Show me what you've learned."
The hall fell silent. Children gathered in the doorway, whispering, eager to see Aiden embarrass himself. He ignored them. All that mattered was the weight of the wooden blade in his grip.
He remembered every night in the courtyard, every whisper he fought against, every storm he had faced. And when Marcus advanced, he moved.
At first, his strikes were clumsy, his defense weak. Marcus pressed him back easily, his movements controlled and precise. But Aiden didn't quit. He adjusted, learned from each mistake, refused to yield.
Minutes passed, sweat pouring down his face, until finally Marcus lowered his sword.
"You've got raw fire," the old soldier said, voice unreadable. "But fire alone burns out fast. If you want to rise, you'll need discipline."
The words struck Aiden harder than any blow. Discipline. It wasn't an insult—it was a challenge.
"I'll learn," he said, breathless but steady. "Teach me, and I'll prove it."
Marcus studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "First step taken. Don't waste it."
The children in the doorway scattered, murmuring. Some mocked him still, but others looked at him differently now. Not just as the reckless boy who shouted at storms—but as someone who might actually become something.
That night, lying in his cot, Aiden stared at the ceiling. His muscles ached, but his spirit burned brighter than ever.
The whispers of doubt were still there, but now another voice joined them: Marcus's. Not soft, not comforting—but challenging. A voice that demanded he rise higher.
It was the first time Aiden felt the ground shift beneath him, as if the world was finally giving him a foothold.
The first step had been taken. And he would never step back.