Leap of Fate

IV

Leon's cries pierced through the stillness of the cave, pulling me out of a dreamless sleep. Groggy, I turned to check the clock. 3 a.m. Fantastic. The dead of night. I groaned, dragging myself up and stumbling toward his makeshift crib.

"Alright, alright, calm down, buddy," I mumbled as I scooped him up. His little fists flailed for a moment before he settled against me, his cries softening into tired whimpers. I rocked him gently, humming a tune that was more noise than melody until his breathing evened out and he drifted back to sleep.

Once he was tucked back in, I stretched, my muscles protesting with every movement. The exhaustion weighed heavy, but I wasn't about to let it win. If I was up anyway, I might as well make use of the time.

I started with a few warm-up exercises, trying to shake off the grogginess and keep my body from going soft. Living out here wasn't just about surviving—it was about staying ready for whatever might come. Afterward, I headed to the water system I'd rigged up, filling a barrel with drinkable water. It was tedious work, but essential. I wasn't about to haul buckets every day.

Next, I prepped a bottle of warm milk for Leon, knowing he'd be hungry when he woke up again. The routine had become second nature by now—chores, survival, repeat. By the time I finished, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. I barely made it back to my bed before collapsing. Sleep came fast, dragging me under before I could even think about the next day.

I sat down on the cold, uneven boulder that served as my bed, letting out a long, measured breath. Hiding in the mountains was only a temporary solution. Sooner or later, the world—or someone worse—would find us. I needed power, but I wasn't sure I was ready to pay the price.

Still, hesitation wasn't a luxury I could afford.

I glanced at Leon, peacefully sprawled out beside the smoldering remains of last night's fire. His tiny chest rose and fell with each soft breath, completely oblivious to the danger that loomed over us like a shadow. For his sake, I couldn't afford to fail.

The thought kept me restless, even as exhaustion weighed on my body. I tried to close my eyes, but the chill of the cave cut through my cloak, and the hardness of the boulder beneath me only made it worse. Sleep refused to come, no matter how much I needed it.

Frustrated, I gave up. Standing, I stretched and rubbed the stiffness from my neck. The cave was bathed in the faint, deep purple hue of pre-dawn, the sky caught in that fleeting moment between night and morning. I glanced at Leon again, his tiny face slack with sleep.

"Please don't burn the cave down while I'm gone," I muttered under my breath. It wasn't like he could hear me, but saying it made me feel a little better.

I grabbed my bag and headed out, descending the mountain with care. Loose rocks shifted beneath my boots, and overgrown shrubs snagged at my cloak. The descent was always tricky, especially in the dim light, but I'd done it enough times to avoid any serious missteps.

At the foot of the mountain, Aunt Marie was waiting, just as she always did. Her arms were crossed, her weathered face looking even more tired than usual. She didn't greet me with a smile—she never did. Our arrangement wasn't built on pleasantries. It was strictly business: she got me supplies, and I paid her. That was it.

"Morning," I said as I approached, keeping my tone neutral.

Marie handed me a plastic bag, her sharp eyes scanning me before narrowing at the contents inside. "I've always taken it upon myself not to ask about your past or your… peculiar habits," she began, her voice low and edged with curiosity. "But this? This is a bit much."

I knew what she was referring to without looking. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, ash dirt, dung beetles, a mortar and pestle, and even a Bunsen burner—yeah, I'd really gone all in this time.

She raised an eyebrow. "You making soup, or did you suddenly decide to become a witch?"

I scratched the back of my neck, sheepish. "It's, uh… for something specific."

Marie wasn't amused. "You don't say."

Without another word, I handed her a plastic bag stuffed with cash. It was enough to cover the supplies and leave her with a little extra for her trouble. She stared at the money for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. I could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted to ask more, to understand what a man like me was doing in the mountains with a kid and a shopping list fit for an alchemist.

But she didn't ask.

Instead, she tucked the cash away and handed over the supplies. "Be careful," she said, her tone softer now. "This world's not what it used to be."

I nodded, avoiding her gaze. "I'll manage."

Marie hesitated, then glanced up toward the mountain. "And the boy?"

"He's tougher than he looks," I said, my voice steady this time. Leon had his quirks—some more dangerous than others—but he was resilient. He had to be.

Marie didn't push further, and I appreciated that. We exchanged a quick goodbye, and I began the climb back up the mountain. The bag of oddities rustled with each step, a stark reminder of the gamble I was about to take.

By the time I reached the cave, the sky had brightened, but Leon was still fast asleep. No fires, no chaos—just peace, for now. I set the bag down and unpacked the items, laying them out on the ground.

Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, ash dirt, dung beetles. The ingredients looked absurd, like props for some amateur magician's trick. But I wasn't playing games. Each item had a purpose and a role in the risky process I was preparing for.

This was my shot—my chance to awaken aura, to protect Leon, to survive. If it worked, everything would change.

If it didn't… well, failure wasn't an option.

I laid out the ingredients on the flat rock I'd repurposed as my worktable. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, dung beetles—each item looked as absurd as it sounded. But this wasn't a joke. I knew this concoction had worked in the novel. The antagonist had used it to fake his death so convincingly that even the most skilled hunters were fooled. If it worked for him, it could work for me.

Still, I muttered under my breath, "It isn't a surefire method to awaken aura, though…"

The process was intricate, and I wasn't an alchemist or herbalist. But I'd studied enough from the novel to piece together how it should go. The concept was simple in theory: slow my body's vital signs to the point where I'd appear dead, even to someone capable of sensing aura. The execution, however, was anything but simple. One misstep and I'd actually be dead.

I glanced over at Leon, still sleeping peacefully in his crib. His small form rose and fell with each breath, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. My chest tightened with a mix of anxiety and determination. I had to make this work. If I could pull it off, I'd have a way to hide from the hunter world long enough to figure out a real plan—or at least buy enough time for Leon to grow stronger.

I grabbed the mortar and pestle, grinding the ginseng roots and beetles into a fine paste. The smell hit me immediately, a bitter, earthy scent that turned my stomach. I clenched my jaw and kept going, knowing every step had to be precise. Too much of one ingredient, and I'd cross the line from "faking death" to "actual death." Too little, and the potion wouldn't be convincing enough to fool anyone.

As I worked, I couldn't help but feel the absurdity of it all. Here I was, a guy who once had a normal life, crouched in a cold cave, grinding beetles and herbs to brew a fake-death potion. If I didn't have a child to protect, I might've laughed at how surreal it all was.

Once the ingredients were reduced to a paste, I carefully added the mushrooms and ash dirt. The mixture thickened, its texture becoming almost clay-like. I set it aside and pulled out the Bunsen burner Marie had gotten for me. The setup was crude—just a burner perched on a flat rock—but it would do.

I transferred the paste into a small pot and began heating it, stirring slowly and evenly. The mixture darkened as it cooked, bubbling faintly, the bitter smell growing stronger. My heart raced with every passing second. This was it—the moment of truth.

As the potion cooled, I leaned back against the wall of the cave, staring at the dark liquid. A knot formed in my stomach. Was this really going to work? I'd followed every step as closely as I could, but there was no room for error. If I got this wrong, I wouldn't just be risking my life—I'd be leaving Leon alone in a world that wouldn't hesitate to crush him.

I glanced at him again, his small form still undisturbed by the chaos surrounding us. My resolve hardened. No turning back now.

The potion had cooled enough. I poured the dark, viscous liquid into a small vial and held it up to the dim light filtering into the cave. It shimmered ominously, an almost hypnotic swirl of colors I couldn't quite name. It looked as dangerous as it felt.

I took a deep breath, the weight of what I was about to do pressing against my chest. I wasn't sure how long the effects would last or how convincing they'd be, but this wasn't just about appearances. It was about survival—for Leon's sake, for mine. This was my best shot.

The first sip was bitter, burning its way down my throat like liquid fire. I grimaced, setting the vial down as my stomach churned. The taste lingered, metallic and earthy, a reminder of what I'd just committed to.

Now, all I could do was wait.

The dizziness hit me first, a slow, creeping disorientation that made the cave walls tilt and sway. I steadied myself against the rough stone, my breath shallow and uneven. My vision blurred, the edges of the world softening into an indistinct haze.

I stumbled outside, the cool mountain air slapping against my face like a wake-up call. The cliff's edge loomed ahead, the rocky drop beneath casting long, jagged shadows over my thoughts. My heart raced, doubt clawing at the edges of my mind.

It won't work, I told myself, this is insane. The concoction was designed to mimic death, not reenact it. There was no real danger—at least, that's what I kept reminding myself.

But the testimonials I'd read told a different story. Every account mentioned something visceral, something real about the experience. No one was told what to expect, yet they all came back changed, awakened in some way.

One conclusion was undeniable: danger was a crucial ingredient for unlocking aura.

I took another unsteady breath, fighting the dizziness as I climbed higher. The cliff stretched upward, jagged and unyielding, its peak shrouded in mist. My contingencies were in place. I'd written letters, set instructions for Leon's care, and even left messages for Leora, just in case. I'd covered every angle, and because of that, I could afford to be reckless.

Or so I told myself.

The thought of leaping to what might be my death made my limbs feel heavier than the rocks beneath my feet. Would the concoction really work the way it was supposed to? The hidden healing factor would only activate if my heart stopped beating.

That was the risk—if it stopped.

I stared out at the horizon, the rising sun painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple. The view was breathtaking, the kind of beauty that made you question your place in the world.

Everyone is afraid of death, I thought, my hands trembling. Why wouldn't I be?

But fear was exactly what I needed now. Fear would push me over the edge—literally and figuratively. If I was right, if the testimonials weren't exaggerated, there was no way I wouldn't awaken my aura after this.

I took one last deep breath, steadying my nerves. The doubts were still there, lurking at the back of my mind like dark shadows, but I couldn't let them win. Not now.

I stepped to the edge. And I jumped.

The wind roared around me, cold and biting, tugging at my clothes and whipping my hair into my face. My breath caught in my throat as the ground rushed up to meet me. For a split second, I felt weightless, suspended in midair.

Then the ground came rushing closer, faster than I expected, and that split second stretched into an eternity.

The impact was like a thunderclap, the force ripping through my body as everything went dark.

Silence.

I floated in an abyss, weightless and untethered, my senses dulled to nothingness. For a moment, I wasn't sure if I was alive or dead. The potion was supposed to work by shutting down my body's vital functions, but this… this felt like something else entirely.

Then came the pain. A sharp, searing heat radiated from my chest, spreading outward like wildfire. My limbs twitched involuntarily, and a faint hum filled my ears, growing louder with each passing second.

And then, I felt it.

A spark.

It started small, a flicker of energy deep within me, but it grew quickly, roaring to life like a firestorm. My body trembled as the aura surged, flooding my veins with raw power. It was overwhelming, like trying to contain a hurricane in a bottle.

My eyes snapped open, and I gasped, air flooding my lungs as if I'd been drowning. The world came rushing back in a blur of light and sound, and I found myself lying at the base of the cliff, the jagged rocks digging into my back.

I was alive.

And I wasn't the same.

~004