A week passed like that quietly, steadily and without any major incident.
Training filled most of my days. My body had grown accustomed to the rhythm: waking before dawn, enduring pain, pushing past exhaustion, collapsing into sleep, and repeating it all again. The routine had become so ingrained that even fatigue felt normal. There was comfort in it, in knowing exactly what was expected of me each morning.
Early morning next day, I opened my eyes slowly, not dragged from sleep by habit or discipline, but drifting awake on my own. The air inside the house was cool, carrying the faint scent of wood and earth. I inhaled deeply and let the breath out just as slowly, my chest rising and falling in a way that felt unusually heavy.
Above me, the massive tree that grew through the roof stretched its branches toward the light. Leaves rustled softly as sunlight filtered through the gaps, scattering across the wooden floor. For a moment, I simply lay there, staring upward, unmoving.
From the far side of the room came the familiar sounds of morning. The crackle of fire, the soft scrape of cookware, Charlie was already awake.
"Young Master," he said gently when he noticed me stirring, "Good morning."
I turned my head toward him and managed a small smile. "Good morning, Charlie."
I sat up slowly and glanced around the house. A quiet weight pressed against me, not painful, just persistent. After a long breath, I spoke.
"Charlie," I said, "I think I'll skip training today. I'll relax at the pond instead."
He paused briefly, then looked at me with calm concern. "You are not training today?"
I shook my head. "Not today. I'm just… not in the mood."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Very well."
I stepped outside quietly.
The pond was still when I reached it.
The water was crystal clear, reflecting the pale morning sunlight like polished glass. There were no ripples, no signs of movement beneath the surface but only silence. I removed my clothes and stepped in carefully.
The cold struck immediately, sharp enough to steal my breath. I sucked in air through clenched teeth as the chill wrapped around me, then eased myself deeper until the water reached my shoulders.
Slowly, I leaned back against the stone edge, letting my body float while my back rested on the cool surface.
The cold numbed my skin, then my thoughts.
I stared down at the water and saw my reflection staring back—older than I remembered, sharper around the eyes. Someone who had been changed by loss and time.
Then I lifted my gaze to the sky beyond the trees.
"Father… Mother…" I whispered.
My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard.
"Won't you wish me today?"
The words felt small and fragile as they left my mouth. My vision blurred. I blinked, but tears slipped free anyway.
"And brothers…" My voice faltered. "I hope you're enjoying it there… even if you left me behind."
I stayed there for a long time, long enough for the cold to sink deep into my bones and the memories to settle heavily in my chest. Eventually, Charlie's voice reached me faintly, calling me back.
After drying off and changing, I ate breakfast in silence. The food was the same as always, warm and filling, but my thoughts were elsewhere. The rest of the day passed quietly as I stayed inside, my mind wandering back to that night—my sixteenth birthday, when everything had still been whole.
By the time evening settled in, a knock echoed against the door.
Charlie reached it before I could, opening it just enough for Vaela's voice to cut through the quiet.
"Skra-where Arthur?"
"He is inside," Charlie replied calmly, stepping aside to let her in.
Vaela entered without hesitation, her sharp eyes sweeping the room until they found me seated at the base of the great tree, my back resting against its rough bark, my thoughts clearly elsewhere.
"Sister Vaela," I said, pushing myself upright in surprise. "What brings you here?"
She crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly, studying me. "Skra-not training today. Why?"
"No particular reason," I answered honestly. "I just wanted a break."
For a moment, she said nothing. Her gaze lingered on me, as if weighing something unseen. Then she nodded once.
"Skra-need help," she said. "Skra-help me?"
"Of course," I replied without hesitation. "What do you need?"
A small, knowing smirk curved her lips. "Skra-come, I show you."
She turned and headed for the door as if the matter were already settled. I exchanged a brief glance with Charlie, then followed after her, with him close behind.
"Sister Vaela… are we going to your home?"
She didn't answer. She only nodded once, brief and decisive, her pace never slowing.
I took that as confirmation and fell silent, walking after her through the winding paths of the village.
The sounds of the evening followed us—distant laughter, crackling fires, voices drifting on the air—but Vaela said nothing. Charlie walked a few steps behind us, as always, his presence steady and unobtrusive.
It didn't take long before we reached her house.
The moment we stepped inside, the smell hit me—rich and overwhelming. Roasted meat, spices, smoke curling thickly in the air. My stomach betrayed me instantly, growling loud enough that I felt heat rush to my face.
Near the fire, Rokar was already there.
He was laughing loudly, a deep, booming sound, a slab of meat in one hand and a wooden cup in the other. The flames cast shifting shadows across his broad frame, making him look even larger than usual.
I barely had time to process what I was seeing before Vaela stepped in close. She hooked an arm around my neck from the side and gave my head a firm, affectionate pat.
"Skra-Happy Birthday."
Rokar turned toward us, his grin spreading the instant he spotted me. He let out a booming laugh and raised his voice in celebration.
"Skra-happy birthday," he said, the words half a cheer, half a laugh, filling the room with his energy.
From behind me, Charlie's voice followed, warm and gentle. "Happy Birthday, Young Master."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Something tight coiled in my chest, sharp and sudden, catching me off guard. My throat burned, emotion surging before I could stop it.
"Thank you," I said softly, the words carrying more weight than I could put into them.
Vaela released me and clapped her hands together. "Skra-come!" she shouted. "Feast today!"
And just like that, the tension melted away.
We ate until I lost track of time, meat I couldn't name, rich and tender, flavors bold enough to make my head spin. Vaela and Rokar drank freely, their voices growing louder with every cup, their laughter easier, less restrained. Rokar told exaggerated stories. Vaela mocked him without mercy. I laughed more than I had in a long time.
At one point, curiosity got the better of me.
"How did you know today was my birthday?" I asked.
Vaela didn't answer immediately. She just smiled and glanced sideways.
I followed her gaze to Charlie and understood it was Charlie who told them.
Charlie met my eyes and smiled, small and knowing.
After some time, Rokar pushed himself to his feet, stretching his arms with a grunt. "Skra-have work," he muttered, "Later."
As Charlie and I rose to leave as well, Vaela stepped in front of us, blocking the doorway.
"Elder Thryssa ask skra-meet you," she said simply.
I blinked. "Elder Thryssa? Why?"
She shrugged. "Skra-not know."
I nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll go."
With that, Charlie and I stepped back out into the night, the warmth of the house and the echoes of laughter following us as we headed toward the elder's home.
We made our way through the quiet paths until we reached the entrance of Elder Thryssa's home. I paused at the doorway, the faint glow from inside spilling across the threshold, then hesitated only a moment before lifting my hand and knocking.
The sound echoed dully against the wood.
A few seconds passed. Then the door opened.
Thryssa stood there, composed as ever, her presence filling the doorway without effort. She took one look at us and stepped aside.
"Come in," she said gently.
We entered, and the familiar scent of wood, herbs, and burning candles wrapped around us. She gestured toward the seats around the low table, and I sat where she indicated. Charlie took his usual place behind me, silent and watchful.
Thryssa studied me for a brief moment, then her expression softened.
"Happy Birthday, Arthur."
Heat crept up my neck. "Thank you," I replied, a little awkwardly.
"You are eighteen now," she continued, her voice calm.
"Yes," I said, nodding.
She leaned back slightly. "Do you feel anything unusual?" she asked. "Any strange sensation within you?"
I paused, searching myself honestly, then shook my head. "No. Nothing."
Thryssa nodded, as though she had expected that answer. After a brief silence, she asked, "Do you have a cultivation method?"
"I can use Charlie's cultivation technique," I answered, glancing back briefly.
Charlie spoke before I could continue. "It is only a low-level cultivation technique, young master."
Thryssa's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
"Arthur," she said gently, "if you lack a powerful cultivation method… I can give you a high-level one."
"What…?"
The words took a moment to sink in.