The quiet rustle of leaves whispered through the grove as I finished the last cycle of mana absorption. A steady warmth pulsed through my veins, subtle yet undeniable—like a second heartbeat keeping rhythm with my own. This secluded grove, just beyond the fringes of Briarwood, had long become my sanctuary. My secret place.
I had stumbled upon it at the age of four, a discovery born of wandering feet and restless spirit. Until then, my world had been walls, furniture, and the constant, protective gaze of my parents. Mother especially clung to me, never allowing me beyond the threshold without her hand firmly grasping mine. I understood her worries—outwardly at least. But inwardly, I was a man who had once lived decades in another world. To me, her watchfulness felt like a cage.
When permission finally came, the door of that cage swung open. At first, I was thrilled. The sun-warmed earth beneath my feet, the wild freedom of running without walls to stop me—it all felt exhilarating. Children my age filled the village square with laughter and shouts, their games spilling into every corner. I tried to join them, chasing after sticks and tumbling across the dirt with them.
But something always gnawed at me.
Perhaps it was the weight of my past life, a maturity they could never share. Their scraped knees and noisy squabbles reminded me too much of another time, another me. For them, life was simple. For me, it felt like playacting. The thrill faded in days, leaving only a quiet dissonance.
So I wandered. Beyond the square, through the crooked alleys where fences sagged with age, past the smell of tilled soil and livestock. And then, almost by accident, I found this place. A pocket of solitude draped in green, where shafts of sunlight cut through the canopy in golden speckles. No curious stares. No childish shouts. Only the hush of nature and the steady breath of mana lingering in the air.
Here, I was free.
And today, the grove welcomed me once more. The mana curled faintly around me, invisible yet real, like mist only I could sense. I lingered in its embrace, memorizing its feel, before at last rising to my feet. Evening shadows were stretching long, and the quiet tug of home called me back.
By the time I reached Briarwood, the village was slowing into dusk. Farmers trudged home from the fields, shoulders heavy with tools, while the scent of fresh bread drifted warm from chimneys. My steps slowed as I reached my house, a modest wooden structure near the edge of the settlement. Not grand. Not rich. But lived-in, warm, and built on care.
The door creaked softly as I pushed it open. Inside, Father stood near the basin, droplets of water clinging to his dark hair. The faint scent of cool well-water clung to him; he had just washed the sweat and grime of battle away.
"Welcome back, Father," I said, slipping inside.
He glanced up, sharp features softening into a smile. "Alex. Done playing already?"
"Yes," I answered evenly. Then, curious, "And you? How was the hunt?"
Father exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Tedious. Those rodents burrow faster than we can strike. We'll need another sweep tomorrow. Still, we reduced their numbers." His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, but I caught the weariness beneath it.
I nodded, offering him quiet respect. Small words followed, just the ordinary kind between father and son. He spoke of adventurers and stubborn beasts; I replied with small encouragements. No grand speeches. No heavy revelations. Just the comfort of familiarity.
After a while, I excused myself and retreated to my room. The wash basin waited, and I splashed cool water over my face, scrubbing away the sweat of practice. The chill grounded me, refreshing and sharp. Dinner would be soon, and Mother would be home any moment now—likely tired, but smiling as always.
As I dried my hands, my gaze drifted to the window. Beyond the glass, hidden within the folds of the forest, lay the grove. My sanctuary. My training ground. A faint smile tugged at my lips.
Tomorrow, I would return.
Tomorrow, I would draw in more mana.
And tomorrow, I would grow stronger still.
The path of awakening waited, just beyond reach. And I swore—I would seize it.