Every step leaves a shadow. Some shadows… never leave.
The desert burned gold beneath the setting sun. Sand stretched in waves, shimmering like molten air. Law Kael's boots sank into powdery dunes as he stumbled through the outskirts of a small, sunbaked village.
"Again," Eldric Kael's voice cut through the wind. Firm. Patient. "The Path doesn't belong to speed. It belongs to choice. Every step… a life."
Law gritted his teeth. "But if I move faster, I can dodge anything!"
Eldric knelt beside him, eyes sharp. "Even the fastest feet mean nothing if your heart lags behind. The Path is measured in presence… in knowing the weight of every step."
A faint flicker rippled across a half-buried water jar. Law froze. Shadows stretched unnaturally between the adobe houses, curling like dark fingers. Then came the whispers—soft at first, threading through the air:
"…step… follow… step…"
The villagers stopped mid-laugh. Their eyes went blank. Children trembled.
Figures emerged from alleys—jerky, broken, like half-familiar reflections. Eldric swung his staff. The first struck sand and blood burst skyward.
Law's twin short swords felt impossibly heavy. His chest burned with panic. This wasn't training. Not this.
A blade flashed toward him. Eldric intercepted it, blood seeping through his robe. "Don't walk my path, boy… walk yours. Let every step be yours."
The red scarf slipped into Law's hands—a legacy heavier than cloth.
Something deep inside him answered. The desert shuddered beneath his boots. Ghostly afterimages shimmered into being, each echo moving as he moved.
"I… I'm everywhere…" Law whispered. "I'll never run from a step again."
The echoes struck with spectral precision, cutting through the corrupted villagers. Each movement left glowing trails in the sand—a lattice of light and death. Whispers faltered, drowned by the drum of his heartbeat.
When silence returned, the village was ash. Smoke coiled against a blood-red moon. Bodies lay scattered, eyes empty mirrors.
Law sank to his knees, clutching the scarf. The desert pulsed faintly beneath him, alive, every grain vibrating with silent power.
"I… I choose it," he whispered. "I choose to walk it."
The Path shimmered before him, infinite and waiting. Shadows deepened. The desert stretched endless, silent, alive.
And with his first step forward, the earth itself seemed to whisper:
Every step leaves a shadow.