CHAPTER 10 – THE WEIGHT OF GUIDANCE
The forest did not change immediately after the decision was made.
No light descended from the sky.
No tremor shook the ground.
No sound marked the world shifting.
The only thing that changed was the way Zio stood where he was.
He was still the same boy, thin framed, simply dressed, a dagger resting in his right hand. The trees stood at the same distance. The wind still whispered softly through the leaves. Yet after Zyon spoke the word Now, Zio realized something with a clarity that left his throat dry.
He was no longer alone in a world that did not care about him.
Zyon stood a few steps ahead, unmoving, not forcing his presence. There was no oppressive aura, no killing intent, no warmth of a guardian. The man simply existed, like an undeniable fact that did not require acknowledgment to be real.
"Sit," Zyon said at last.
Zio did not obey immediately.
Not out of defiance, but because his instincts weighed the command the way one weighs a cliff. Sitting meant stopping. Stopping meant opening himself. And opening himself before someone who knew too much about his life was not easy.
After a few seconds, Zio lowered himself and sat on a thick tree root jutting from the ground.
Zyon remained standing.
"Why don't you sit too?" Zio asked.
"I don't need to," Zyon replied. "And you need to get used to learning while unbalanced."
Zio snorted quietly. "That sounds like torture."
"It is."
Silence followed.
This time, it was not an uneasy silence, nor one that waited for danger. It was a silence filled with weight. Zyon looked at Zio not as a child, but as something unfinished.
"Tell me," Zyon said, "what do you feel in your chest right now?"
Zio frowned. "It's spinning. Sometimes it feels like a small current. Sometimes like something is watching."
"That's a fairly accurate description."
"Is it mana?"
"Not yet."
The answer made Zio look up sharply. "Not yet?"
Zyon nodded. "What you're feeling is core awareness, not flow. Most humans don't even realize their mana core exists until they force it awake. Usually through harsh training or extreme emotion."
"And me?"
"You heard it without calling for it."
The words made Zio's chest feel heavier.
"Is that bad?"
"No," Zyon said. "It's dangerous."
Zio almost laughed, but the sound never fully formed.
Zyon continued, "You have two mana cores. Neither is fully awakened, but both are aware of each other."
Zio froze. "Two?"
"Yes."
There was no drama in Zyon's voice. He stated it the way one might state how many hands a person had.
"Most humans have one core. Some races have structural variations, but still a single center. Two living cores at the same time are rare. And they almost always end in destruction."
Zio lowered his gaze.
"Like my parents."
"Yes."
There was no pause for sympathy in the answer. Strangely, that made it easier to accept.
"They had one core forced to hold too much," Zyon continued. "You are different. The ancient blood in you did not merge. It separated. That is why you're alive."
Zio tightened his grip on the dagger without realizing it.
"Then why am I still at risk of dying?"
Zyon studied him for a long moment. "Because two separate cores want to know each other."
The air felt colder.
"If you try to align them too quickly," Zyon said, "they will collide. Not physically, but in will. And your body will become the battlefield."
Zio exhaled slowly.
"So what are you going to teach me? Mana control?"
"No."
"Fighting?"
"Not that either."
"Then what?"
Zyon finally moved. He stepped closer and crouched in front of Zio, bringing himself level with his gaze.
"I will teach you how to live without awakening what is not ready to wake."
Zio swallowed. "That sounds opposite to every story I've ever heard."
"Stories are written by those who survive," Zyon replied. "The dead never get to write warnings."
Zio fell silent.
After a moment, he asked more quietly, "Does Trod know?"
Zyon did not answer immediately. "Partially. He knows you're different. He knows you can't be forced. But he doesn't know the details."
Zio nodded faintly. His thoughts drifted to training sessions that always ended early. To nights when Trod sent him to sleep even when his body felt capable of more.
"He saved me," Zio murmured.
"He delayed your death," Zyon corrected. "That's not the same. But it is valuable."
Zio looked up. "And you?"
Zyon stood. "I make sure that delay isn't wasted."
He turned toward the rising sun.
"We will not use mana," he said. "Not today. Not tomorrow. Possibly not for years."
Zio stiffened. "Years?"
"Yes."
"Then what will we do?"
Zyon looked out at the forest. "You will learn to listen to the world without responding to it."
Zio blinked. "What does that mean?"
Zyon picked up a dry twig and let it fall. "The world is always speaking. Wind, earth, life, death. Most people cover their ears and then force the world to answer with power."
He stepped on the twig, snapping it.
"You must not be like that."
Zyon's gaze sharpened. "You will listen. And you will not answer."
Something trembled faintly in Zio's chest. Not an urge. Not resistance. More like acknowledgment.
"What happens if I fail?" Zio asked.
Zyon did not avoid the question. "Then one day, without warning, one core will try to take over. And you will die, with your own body as the cause."
Zio nodded slowly. "I understand."
"No," Zyon replied. "You don't. Not yet. But you're willing to listen. That's enough for the first day."
Zyon stepped back.
"Now go home," he said. "Live as usual. Hunt. Eat. Sleep."
Zio stood. "And you?"
"I'll be around," Zyon said. "Unseen. Unhelping. Unrescuing."
Zio hesitated. "That's reassuring."
Zyon almost smiled.
"The world isn't fair, Zio," he said. "I'm just making sure you don't die before you get the chance to hate it."
The wind picked up slightly.
When Zio blinked, Zyon was gone.
He had not vanished in light.
He had not faded into shadow.
He simply was no longer there.
Zio stood alone in a forest that had returned to its own rhythm.
But this time, he knew one thing for certain.
The world had begun speaking to him.
And for the first time,
he was learning to be silent.
End of Chapter 10