Connor jolted awake, his breath ragged as he sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes. The stillness of the morning hung heavy in the air, broken only by the soft chirping of birds in the distance. The golden light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest floor. His muscles ached from the night spent on the cold earth, his mind sluggish, foggy from sleep.
"Why am I alive?" he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. His eyes squinted as he rolled onto his side, his gaze falling on the ground beneath him, but something stopped him mid-movement.
A figure. A hooded figure, sitting calmly on a rock a few feet away, arms crossed, his posture relaxed, yet deliberate. The figure didn't look tired, didn't look human in the way Connor understood it.
The hooded figure's voice broke the silence, smooth and unwavering. "Good morning."
Connor blinked a few times, his eyes still half-closed from sleep, but the figure's presence was enough to snap him into awareness. "You don't sleep, do you?"
The hooded figure tilted his head slightly, a slight curve of his mouth forming beneath the shadow of his hood. "Sleep is for people with time. That's not me."
Connor let out a long breath, stretching his sore limbs. "Alright... what are we doing today?"
The hooded figure stood without hesitation, sweeping his arm out to the empty clearing. His voice was casual but edged with a purpose. "I want a house."
Connor blinked, confusion washing over him. "A what?"
"A big one." The hooded figure's tone was light, almost playful. "A beautiful one."
He paused for effect, then added, almost whimsically, "Preferably a castle."
Connor stared at him. He didn't know whether to laugh or to scream in frustration. "Why?"
"Because I want one." The hooded figure's smile was almost childlike in its simplicity, but there was no hint of mockery.
A sigh escaped Connor's lips. "How exactly do you expect me to do that?"
The hooded figure tapped his foot against the dirt, the simple motion making the earth beneath it ripple slightly. "Earth element."
Connor looked at him, still unsure whether this was some kind of joke. "You want me to—"
"Build something," the hooded figure finished, his voice steady.
Connor snorted, unable to stop the laughter that bubbled out. "I can fight. I can kill. I can barely make a straight wall."
The hooded figure took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Connor. "That's the problem," he said, his voice no longer playful but firm.
He knelt to the ground, pressing his palm flat against the dirt, feeling the pulse of the earth. "You use your power like a hammer."
Connor's eyes flickered with confusion, but the hooded figure's hand was steady, even as the earth beneath it trembled ever so slightly.
"Today," the hooded figure continued, "you learn to use it like hands."
Connor swallowed hard, his throat dry. "And if I fail?"
The hooded figure's gaze shifted toward the rising sun. It cast long, golden rays over the clearing, the shadows of the trees stretching over the ground like fingers reaching out. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let the silence settle around them before responding, "You have until sunset."
Connor's breath hitched in his chest. "Sunset?!"
The hooded figure's smile returned, but it was distant, enigmatic. He turned and began walking away, his voice still carrying back to Connor. "Chop chop."
The forest echoed with the sounds of Connor's frustration. His fist slammed into the earth, and the resulting slab of rock shot up violently, crooked and ugly. He cursed, frustration leaking into every movement.
"Dammit!" he gritted through clenched teeth, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
Again, he tried, this time focusing harder. Stone walls rose from the ground, but they collapsed almost immediately.
He swore under his breath, steadying his breath as the weight of failure pressed down on him. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his shirt sticking to his back, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
This time, he moved slower, more deliberately, as the earth responded. His fingers trembled with the effort, but this time, the stone didn't resist. It flowed beneath his hands, smooth and controlled.
Pillars rose. Stone arches arced naturally. He shaped the edges with trembling fingers, his scar burning faintly as he worked. His breathing steadied. With each motion, it was as if the earth itself was yielding, guiding him. But still, his body trembled with the effort.
By the time the sun had begun to dip in the sky, a structure stood where before there had only been empty ground. It wasn't perfect. A stone tower tilted slightly to the left. The gate wasn't symmetrical. But it was real.
Connor dropped to his knees, the exhaustion hitting him all at once. Sweat soaked his clothes, his fingers aching from the effort. "I did it," he muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
The hooded figure walked around the structure, inspecting it with an appraising eye. He tapped a wall, knocked on a pillar, and paused to consider each imperfection. Connor sat there, waiting, tense, not knowing what to expect.
The hooded figure straightened up, glancing at Connor. "It's ugly."
Connor groaned, his head falling back. "Of course it is."
The hooded figure tilted his head, considering the structure one last time. "But you didn't destroy ," he said, his tone serious. "You built something. That's progress."
Connor looked up, his gaze hard. "It's not perfect. It's a mess."
The hooded figure shook his head. "You didn't destroy it. You built it."
The sun began to set, its warm orange light bathing the structure in a soft glow. For the first time, Connor allowed himself a smile, faint but real.
"So… what's next?" he asked, his voice almost hopeful.
The hooded figure turned toward him. There was a brief, almost imperceptible pause before he spoke. "Now we tear it down."
Connor's smile faltered, his face hardening. "You're sick."
The hooded figure chuckled, but it was soft, almost sheepish. "You'll thank me later."
Connor stood slowly, his gaze lingering on the creation he had spent hours forming. It wasn't much—just stone and sweat and hope—but for the first time in a long time, his power didn't feel like a curse. It felt like a step toward something bigger.
As the hooded figure turned to leave, Connor stood still, staring at the structure. The sunset bathed the stone in a warm light. A symbol of creation.
Not destruction.
For once, Connor didn't feel the weight of his past crushing him. Just for a moment, it was enough.