The night was quiet. Too quiet.
The fire in the hearth crackled, casting golden reflections on the walls of the house. Grandpa and Sai sat at the table, finishing the remnants of dinner.
The smell of herbs and smoke filled the air, creating a strange, almost forgotten feeling of coziness.
Sai was silent. His white eyes, usually empty, now glistened with the reflected flame. He looked tired, but not from training—from his thoughts.
"The Echo has calmed," said Grandpa, not looking up. "You've become more stable."
"Maybe," Sai replied quietly, staring into his bowl.
"'Maybe' is a poor word," the old man snorted. "It reeks of doubt."
Sai smirked. "I… I'm not sure I know how to speak otherwise."
Grandpa put down his spoon and looked directly at him.
"Sai… tell me about yourself. Not who you want to become. Who you were."
The young man raised his eyes. A long silence. Only the crackling of the fire disturbed the quiet.
"Why do you want that?" he finally asked.
"Because power without understanding one's roots is just a weapon," Grandpa replied calmly. "I want to know what you lost. Only then will I understand what you're searching for."
Sai sighed. His shoulders trembled.
He stared into the fire for a long time, as if the answers lay within the flames.
"I had a family," he finally spoke. "A mother, a father, an older sister, and two younger ones. Twins."
He fell silent, swallowing the dryness in his throat.
Grandpa didn't interrupt.
"We lived in a small house outside the city, in the sector near the old hills. Father worked at the port, mother taught children how to read. Everything was… simple. Almost too simple.
I remember my little brother laughing. How my sister got angry when he tore her books. It all feels alien, like it didn't happen to me."
"What happened?" Grandpa asked softly.
"A monster." Sai uttered the word in a near whisper. "That night, I woke up to a scream. Didn't understand what was happening at first. Smoke… heat… the walls were burning.
I remember a silhouette in the window. Not human. Something with eyes like coal. It looked at us and… smiled."
He clenched his fists.
"I… hid. In the basement.
They were screaming. I heard my father trying to pull them out. Then—silence.
When the people from the city came, the house was already ash. They found me under the floorboards. The only one."
He fixed his gaze on the table, unable to look at Grandpa.
"Since then, I… couldn't look others in the eye. I was afraid.
Afraid that if I stayed close to anyone—the same thing would happen to them again.
So, when they took us to the orphanage… I stayed silent. I didn't seek them out. Didn't try to run. I just waited.
After a couple of months, my younger siblings were taken by another family. Then my sister.
And I remained. Alone. Because, apparently, no one wanted a boy who wouldn't talk and trembled at every sound."
A long silence.
Grandpa didn't reply immediately. He slowly stood up, walked to the fireplace, swaying slightly as if pondering what to say.
"Fear is natural," he finally said. "But you gave it a name, and you allowed it to become a god inside you."
Sai frowned. "What do you mean?"
"When you hid in the basement, you survived," said Grandpa. "Back then, fear was your ally. But then you started worshipping it as your savior.
You let it control your every move, your every thought.
It became your faith."
Sai turned away. "Easy for you to say when you weren't there."
"I was," the old man replied quietly. "In a different war, under a different sky.
I saw cities crumble, I saw people praying to gods they had invented themselves—fear, hatred, the thirst to survive.
And you know, Sai, who survived? Not those who were stronger.
But those who managed to understand their fear."
He turned to the boy.
"You think cowardice is weakness? No.
Cowardice is a form of awareness. Just a distorted one.
You felt the world was dangerous—and that is true.
But you decided that salvation was to hide.
And now you need to learn to stand."
Sai listened, clenching his fingers into a fist.
"And if I can't?" he asked, almost in a whisper.
"Then you'll die, like all those who couldn't." Grandpa shrugged. "But death is not a defeat if you at least tried."
He came closer, placed a hand on Sai's shoulder.
"I don't intend to turn you into a warrior. I want you to stop being a prisoner.
A prisoner of fear. A prisoner of the past.
You've been trapped in your own shadows for too long."
Sai looked up. His white eyes gleamed in the firelight.
"'Prisoner of shadows'…" he repeated softly. "That's what I am."
Grandpa smiled with the corner of his mouth. "For now—yes. But every prisoner holds a key. You just have to want to find it."
Sai lowered his head. "And if I find it? What then?"
"Then you will cease to be just a man," Grandpa answered. "Then you will become yourself."
A long silence filled the house once more.
Outside, the wind whispered something quiet, as if continuing their conversation.
Sai stared into the fire, remembering the faces of his brothers and sister. Small hands, laughter, his mother's voice. Everything he had lost, and everything he was afraid to remember.
And for the first time in all these years, he wanted not to forget—but to remember.
Something shifted in his chest. The Echo inside him responded with a soft pulse.
He realized the fear hadn't disappeared. It was still there. But now… it wasn't his enemy.
It was just a part of him.
Grandpa looked at him and said quietly:
"Now you are beginning to understand, Sai."
Sai didn't answer. He just kept looking at the fire.
Fire… it had always been the boundary between 'then' and 'now' for him. Back then, it burned everything dear to him. And now—it seemed to be trying to warm what remained.
"Grandpa…" he said quietly.
"Hm?"
"What if I hadn't hidden back then? If I… had tried to help?" His voice trembled. "Maybe they would have survived?"
Grandpa sighed, not answering immediately.
"Perhaps."
"So… yes?" Sai's eyes narrowed, as if bracing for a verdict.
"Perhaps they would have died with you," the old man continued calmly. "But I will tell you one thing, Sai: the past doesn't ask whether you acted rightly or not. It simply is."
He turned, his gaze hardening.
"What matters is what you do with it now."
Sai gritted his teeth. "But… I hate this feeling!" he cried out. "Every time I remember—I want to scream, but I can't! I want to run, but my legs won't move! I see the fire, I see that house… I see them!"
He stood up, his fists trembling. The air around them seemed to thicken. The shadows on the wall stirred, streaming like smoke.
The flame in the hearth died down, stretching into a narrow line, as if something was reaching for it from within.
"Calmly," said Grandpa, without raising his voice. "That's not them. That's you."
"What?.."
"The Echo senses your state. It is a mirror of your heart. The more you cling to the pain, the brighter it reflects."
Sai took a step back.
The shadow behind him quivered, as if gathering into a form. Shoulders, a head, arms—distorted, as if molded from smoke.
It was breathing.
"What is it… doing?!" Sai retreated, feeling the air grow heavy, sticky.
"It isn't doing anything you don't want it to," Grandpa replied calmly. "Look at it. This is you, Sai. Everything you hid. Everything you hated. Everything you wanted to forget."
The shadow slowly raised its head. Its face had no eyes—only white hollows, just like Sai's.
It opened its mouth—soundlessly.
Sai froze. He wanted to turn away, but Grandpa spoke:
"Don't you dare run. Look."
He stood, unable to breathe.
The shadow took a step forward—and in that instant, Sai felt as if someone had grabbed him from the inside. His heart hammered, his breath hitched. Images flashed before his eyes:
flames, his sister's scream, smoke, charred walls.
"No…" he whispered. "Please… don't…"
"Look!" Grandpa said loudly. "This is not a nightmare. This is the truth.
You either accept it—or hide in the basement again."
Sai clenched his teeth.
He raised his gaze. The shadow—his reflection—stood a step away from him. A hand made of smoke reached for him.
And in the moment when Sai almost flinched back… he took a step forward.
Contact.
The darkness struck his chest, like an icy wind piercing him from within.
For a moment, everything vanished—sound, light, breath. Only cold and silence.
And then—a flash.
Sai collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily. His heart was beating like a mad thing.
The shadow was gone.
"What… was that?.." he exhaled.
Grandpa came closer, squatting down beside him.
"That was your first step toward yourself."
He raised his hand, and a faint glimmer appeared in the air—the very crystal that lay in the house. Only now it glowed with a faint black-and-gray radiance.
"The Echo has responded. Now it belongs to you," said Grandpa. "But remember: it is not your servant. It is your shadow. Ignore it—and it will devour you. Accept it—and you will grow stronger."
Sai was still trembling, looking at the crystal.
"I… felt pain. Fear. But… there was something else too. Something… warm."
"Memory," said Grandpa. "The Echo of the monster that killed your family. It left a trace. And now that trace is inside you."
Sai raised his head, a new glint in his eyes—resolve.
"So… I carry its strength?"
"No," Grandpa shook his head. "You carry its mistake.
It was created from fear, lived by it, and died because of it.
If you walk the same path—you will become the same.
But if you can turn that pain into awareness… you will surpass it."
Silence.
The fire ignited again, softly illuminating the walls.
Sai looked at his hands—they trembled slightly, but no longer from fear.
"Grandpa…"
"Yes?"
"I don't want to hide anymore."
"Then don't hide," he replied simply. "Tomorrow we begin real training. Don't be afraid, it will hurt."
Sai gave a weak smile. "Was it not hurting before?"
Grandpa laughed. "That was just the warm-up, kid."
He stood up, walked to the window. Outside, the moon shone—huge, cold, as if observing their conversation.
"You know," he said quietly, not turning around, "many call power a curse. But I think the real curse is forgetting.
You remembered. That means you are alive."
Sai looked at the crystal lying in his palm. The gray light pulsed like a breath.
He clenched it.
"I won't forget," he whispered. "Never."
And the crystal responded—flashing with a barely noticeable light, as if confirming the oath?..