Date: Week of the Awakening
Location: Home, Edge of Valewind
---
I wake up earlier now.
Not from dreams. But something colder.
A whisper in my bones that tells me to rise. To prepare.
Even if I don't know what for.
The air feels different these days. Sharper.
Like the world has moved a step ahead and forgot to bring me with it.
I still smile at my mother's stew.
Still train with my father in the field behind the house.
But even they glance at me differently now.
Especially when I disarm my father without knowing how I did it.
He laughed.
But it didn't reach his eyes.
---
By day, I study everything I can get my hands on.
Not like a boy eager to impress.
But like a man running out of time.
History. Battle formations. Spell sigils. Sword stances.
The old me wouldn't have cared.
This me writes until the candle dies, then copies diagrams in the dark.
My body remembers things I've never learned.
My tongue speaks words I never studied.
Even when I look in the mirror… there's a faint, distant calm behind my eyes.
It's not peace. It's awareness.
As if someone else is watching with me.
As if… I am becoming them.
---
Second week.
We went to the Chapel of Flameveil. A yearly tradition.
The pastor paused during the blessing.
Told my parents, voice hushed:
> "This boy holds two souls. One now waking. A Divine Thread."
"He will not be the same."
My mother cried.
My father was silent. His hand stayed on my shoulder for a long time.
I said nothing.
Because something in me already knew.
---
At night I hear things.
Not voices. But… echoes. Like forgotten orders shouted across a field of ash.
A name I don't remember keeps ringing in my sleep.
But when I hold a sword,
When I read a war map,
When I speak without thinking —
That name feels close.
---
The boy who I was is fading.
And the one who watches from the mirror?
He's waiting for something.