Chapter Seven: Whispers in the Wind

Morning came like a sigh, silver and cold, slipping through the thin slits of my window. My body protested as I sat up—every muscle sore, joints tight, skin carrying the sting of yesterday's lessons. I had dreamed of falling again and again, the rock tumbling from my palm, only to rise from the dirt with something glowing faintly in my chest.

That flicker.

I clung to it.

The cottage was quiet. Sable had left before sunrise, likely to hunt or scout or simply vanish like she always did. She gave me space, but not kindness. Her way of teaching didn't include coddling. It was fire and pressure—either you broke or you became something new. I didn't know which I was becoming yet.

Outside, the world smelled of frost and pine. My boots sank slightly into the cold earth as I walked the path to the clearing again. The trees stood tall and ancient, their branches whispering as if they knew more than they let on. I pressed my hand to the trunk of one, grounding myself.

Today was different.

I wasn't sure why. The air had a tension to it—like something was approaching, just beyond the veil of understanding.

I started training on my own. No voice barking commands. No bursts of force to knock me off my feet. I lifted the rock again, sat in silence, reaching in.

Stillness. Breath. Focus.

Flicker.

And then it was gone again.

It wasn't much, but it was more than before. I sat with it, learning the rhythm. The way my pulse quickened when I found it. The exact moment fear crept in and made it vanish.

Before noon, I heard the wind change.

Not just a breeze. It shifted—carrying voices, a faint echo. Not human.

I turned sharply. The forest had gone silent.

"Sable?" I called, uncertain.

No answer.

I stood, alert. That's when I saw him.

Not one of the rulers. Not yet.

He stood at the edge of the trees—a boy no older than me, dressed in simple forest leathers, dark hair tangled, his skin like bark and eyes green as moss. A scout, maybe. Or something more.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He didn't answer. Instead, he tilted his head, studying me like I was the oddity here.

"I'm not here to harm you," he finally said. His voice was soft, barely louder than the wind. "I've been sent to observe."

"By who?" My fists clenched. Power surged under my skin and quickly retreated again.

"By one who's watching," he said, eyes narrowing slightly. "They all are."

He meant the demi-gods. Or worse—the rulers.

I swallowed. "Why now?"

"Because the wind shifted. Because you woke it up."

"I didn't—" I stopped. I had felt something last night. Something opening.

"They want to know if you're ready," he said. "But others… they want to stop you first."

I stepped forward. "Why would anyone want to stop me?"

He stared for a long beat. "Because you're the beginning. And beginnings threaten endings."

That made no sense, and yet it made perfect sense.

He nodded toward the clearing. "Your power. It's older than you think. It echoes. It calls."

"Calls to who?"

But he was already walking backward, vanishing into the trees.

"To all of them," he said, and then he was gone.

I stood frozen. My breath came in shallow bursts.

I didn't know his name. I didn't know if he was real. But his presence changed something.

The world was stirring. Watching.

I wasn't alone anymore.

The flicker inside me burned a little brighter.

Because now I knew:

It had begun.

And once something begins, it cannot be undone.

The ancient wheels were already turning—grinding forward, slow but unstoppable. I felt them deep in the marrow of my bones, heard the soft groan of the world as if it were shifting to make room for me. Not me as I was now, but me as I would become.

The Vessel.

The thought still didn't sit right in my mouth. I wasn't divine. I wasn't powerful. I was a girl raised in the shadows, hidden from fate like a secret too dangerous to speak aloud.

But now the silence was breaking.

Above me, the clouds churned slowly, as if stirred by unseen hands. The wind grew colder. Sharper. And with it came something else—a whisper just beyond hearing, brushing the edge of my awareness like a fingertip on skin.

It said nothing I could understand, but I felt its meaning:

Move.

The path had opened.

Whether I was ready or not no longer mattered.

I had to walk it.

And every step from here would echo through realms I hadn't yet seen—drawing rulers, demons, and dreamers toward me. Allies and enemies both.

I inhaled, grounding myself one last time in the stillness of this place.

Tomorrow, I would leave the clearing.

And my real journey would begin.

But the night was long.

Sleep never came easy, not when my thoughts chased each other in endless loops, spiraling between fear and determination. I lay beneath the worn blanket Sable had given me, staring at the wooden beams above, tracing the cracks in the ceiling as if they were maps to something unseen.

Tomorrow, I would leave.

Tomorrow, I would step beyond the only safety I had known.

I turned onto my side, listening to the wind outside. It hadn't stopped moving since the boy disappeared, rustling through the trees like a breath that never quite exhaled.

Had he truly been here? Or had I imagined him?

No—his words had weight. They settled in my chest, pressing against something I didn't yet understand.

"Because you're the beginning. And beginnings threaten endings."

What ending? Whose?

I closed my eyes, but even in the darkness, I felt the world shifting beneath me. My power—small, flickering, untamed—stirred again, humming softly under my skin. It felt different now. Not like an accident. Not like a mistake.

Like a call.

And someone, somewhere, was listening.

The Last Night in the Clearing

Sable returned just before dawn. I heard her boots crunch against the frost-bitten earth before I saw her, the door creaking open to let in a gust of cold air.

She smelled of the forest—of pine, damp earth, and something wilder beneath it. Her hood was pulled low, but I caught the sharp glint of her eyes, studying me in the dim light.

"You're awake," she said. Not a question. A fact.

I pushed up onto my elbows. "Couldn't sleep."

She hummed, setting down a bundle of wrapped meat and dried herbs on the small table by the fire. "Good. You'll have plenty of time for that when you're dead."

I didn't ask if she was joking.

Instead, I sat up fully, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "You knew, didn't you?"

Sable didn't turn around. "Knew what?"

"That someone was watching."

A pause.

Then, slowly, she glanced over her shoulder, expression unreadable. "And what did they tell you?"

I hesitated. "That the rulers are watching. That I've… woken something up."

Sable exhaled through her nose. She turned back to her work, unwrapping the bundle with steady hands. "Then they know more than they should."

A chill crept down my spine. "What does that mean?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she reached for her blade, slicing through a thick root with a practiced hand. The fire crackled between us, the only sound in the cabin.

Finally, she spoke.

"It means you don't have time to waste. If they know you're awake, others will too." She looked at me then, her gaze sharp as steel. "And not all of them will wait for you to be ready."

The wind howled outside, rattling the wooden walls of the cabin.

I swallowed hard.

Tomorrow, I had planned to leave.

But now, it felt like the world was already coming for me.