Growth - 1

Alex sat in quiet meditation, his mind extending outward, sensing the world in ways he never had before. The once elusive force of telekinesis had become an extension of his will, bending at his command with greater precision. Small objects floated around him—pebbles, pieces of parchment, and even a metal goblet—all rotating in slow orbits, guided by his sharpened control.

His telekinesis training had evolved beyond lifting objects. He had begun experimenting with telepathic transmission, an advanced extension of his mental abilities. So far, he could send vague impressions—nudges of intent, emotional cues—but refining it into clear communication was proving difficult. His mother, always a patient observer, had taken an interest in his efforts.

"You're awfully quiet today," his mother remarked as she sat beside him in the sunlit hall, watching him focus on a small metal pin hovering before him. "What are you working on now, Alex?"

He didn't answer immediately but instead focused his mind, forming a simple message: I hear you.

She blinked, tilting her head. "I... did I imagine that? I thought I heard something." Her gaze sharpened with curiosity.

Encouraged, Alex refined his effort, focusing harder. This time, he sent a clearer phrase: You didn't imagine it.

His mother inhaled sharply, her lips curving into a mix of delight and astonishment. "Alex, that's incredible! You—" She paused, as if weighing her next words carefully. "You're truly growing in ways none of us expected."

He lowered the pin onto the table, his mental strain evident but bearable. "It's difficult to get full sentences across," he admitted aloud this time. "It takes too much focus."

His mother reached out, brushing his hair gently. "Progress is progress. But remember, some gifts are best kept hidden until the right time."

He nodded, understanding her unspoken caution. While she had always been his greatest supporter, even she recognized the dangers of standing out too soon.

Aside from his mother, his interactions with the household continued to evolve. He had heard rumors of potential cousin siblings, though nothing was certain yet. The mere idea intrigued him—what kind of individuals would they be? Allies, rivals, or something else entirely?

Woden, ever the enigma, had taken an interest in him. Not in a way a mentor would, but in a way that left Alex questioning what kind of person he truly was. At times, he spoke like a war-hardened warrior, describing the battle in vivid, bloody detail as though reminiscing about a beautiful dream. Other times, he spoke like a would-be demonic trainer, questioning Alex's weaknesses, his fears, prodding his mind like an animal testing the limits of its cage.

And then there were the moments when he was unexpectedly… normal. A caring grandfather, dispensing wisdom with an amused glint in his eye. Or, most strangely, when his demeanor softened into that of a smooth, almost charming husband—though who he was directing that toward was something Alex dared not dwell on too much.

"You ever wonder, boy, what your first kill will be?" Woden asked once, his voice casual, as though discussing the weather.

Alex didn't answer.

Woden only chuckled. "Don't think about it now. But when the moment comes, you'll understand. It's not about whether you hesitate—it's about what you feel after."

It was unsettling, but also oddly grounding. Woden wasn't pushing him toward violence. He was preparing him for something inevitable.

Cecilia, his grandmother, was the opposite of Woden in every way. Ever since the ceremony, she had become more talkative, more emotional, showering Alex with a warmth that bordered on overwhelming.

"You precious little thing," she would coo, holding his face between her hands as though he were made of glass. "Look at you, growing stronger every day. Oh, your mother must be so proud!"

If Woden was an unpredictable storm, Cecilia was the embrace of an eternal spring. She would fuss over him, worry endlessly about his well-being, and yet—there was wisdom in her words, too. Unlike Woden's sharp, brutal lessons, Cecilia's teachings came wrapped in kindness, delivered with the patience of someone who had lived long enough to see countless stories unfold.

She spoke often of the past, of old traditions, of names and faces Alex had no reference for. But he listened. Because if there was one thing he had learned, it was that stories had a way of circling back when least expected.

Then there was Samuel—the Emperor. The least accessible of them all, and yet the one whose opinion likely mattered the most. Alex had spoken to him only a handful of times, each exchange brief but weighty. There was no room for idle talk when dealing with the ruler of the empire. Even when the Emperor did not speak, his presence alone carried the weight of a thousand expectations.

His telepathic abilities were showing clear progress—he could now send faint messages and impressions with effort—but his mantra's growth had become far less visible. Instead of immediate leaps, it had shifted into something deeper, something he could feel rather than measure. His connection to the elements had strengthened, giving him an almost instinctual awareness of the forces around him.

The rapid progress he had once enjoyed in the womb had now slowed, but in its place, a new kind of growth had taken root. His elemental sense had expanded far beyond what he had anticipated, becoming something instinctual rather than learned. He no longer needed direct contact with an element to feel its essence; he could now sense it instinctively, as if his very being resonated with the forces of the world.

For the first time, he perceived the distinct nuances between each element. The air around him no longer felt like a simple breeze—it carried currents of wind energy, whispering in a language he was only beginning to understand. The warmth of the sun that seeped through the windows wasn't just comforting; it pulsed with raw fire essence, beckoning him to reach out and harness it. The water in the courtyard's fountain had a cool, tranquil pull, promising hidden depths he had yet to explore.

As he continued to hone his abilities, Alex understood that his growth would not go unnoticed for long. The shifting dynamics around him signaled that his presence was no longer that of a mere child but of a force that others would have to acknowledge—whether they wished to or not.

He had to be prepared.

Because power, no matter how subtle, never remained in the shadows forever.