The morning sun cast its golden rays through the forest, painting the trees in hues of amber and green. Kaidan rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his mismatched gaze still heavy with exhaustion from days of wandering. The vast wilderness stretched around him, a constant reminder of his isolation. His body ached, but today he resolved to do more than merely survive.
He walked until he found a secluded clearing bordered by towering oaks. It was quiet here, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. Dropping his satchel, Kaidan stretched, mimicking the fluid motions he'd seen his father, Alric, perform each morning. Though his body was lean and untrained, Kaidan carried the spark of determination.
A Humbling Beginning
His eyes settled on a fallen log lying across the clearing. It reminded him of the massive trunks Alric used to split for firewood. Kaidan approached it, his hands curling around the rough bark as he squared his stance. "If Dad can do this, so can I," he muttered.
Gripping the log with all his strength, Kaidan bent his knees and heaved. His arms shook, his legs burned, and his face turned crimson as the weight refused to budge. He gave one final, desperate pull before slipping backward, landing on the ground with a graceless thud.
He lay there, staring at the canopy above, his embarrassment burning hotter than the sun overhead. "Well," he muttered to himself, "it's a good thing no one's around to see this."
After a moment, Kaidan pushed himself up and dusted off his tunic. "Okay, start smaller," he said, scanning the clearing. Nearby, he spotted a rock about the size of a melon. He picked it up, testing its weight. Though it was modest compared to the log, the rock felt heavy in his hands. Adjusting his grip, he pressed it above his head, his arms trembling with the effort.
The first few attempts were awkward and unsteady, but Kaidan soon found a rhythm. He carried the rock across the clearing, lifted it repeatedly, and swung it like a hammer. Each movement built a foundation of strength, no matter how small.
A Day of Effort
As the hours passed, Kaidan pushed himself through a series of improvised exercises. He filled his satchel with smaller stones, slinging it over his back to jog laps around the clearing. His legs burned as he performed squats and lunges, each repetition drawing on reserves of determination he hadn't known he possessed. When he grew too tired to lift anything, he switched to bodyweight exercises—push-ups, planks, and sit-ups that left his muscles trembling.
The physical strain was grueling, but it brought a clarity Kaidan hadn't felt in days. For the first time since fleeing Kaelith, he wasn't just running—he was growing. Every drop of sweat felt like progress, a step toward survival in a world that had shown him no mercy.
By late afternoon, Kaidan collapsed against a tree, his chest heaving. His clothes clung to him, soaked with sweat. Despite the exhaustion, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He had spent an entire day working to become stronger, and though his progress was small, it was something.
The Flow Within
As the sky shifted into dusk, Kaidan sat cross-legged in the clearing, his body sore but his mind resolute. He closed his mismatched eyes, letting the evening sounds of the forest wash over him. The rustle of leaves, the distant hum of insects, and the cool breeze against his skin grounded him in the moment.
The Flow. It had saved him in Kaelith, surging through him in a moment of desperation. But what was it? And how could he summon it now? Kaidan focused inward, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to feel the energy that had once burned beneath his skin.
His breathing slowed, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he felt it—a faint warmth stirring within him, a flicker of light in the vast darkness. His mismatched eyes glowed faintly behind closed lids as he reached for it, willing the Flow to rise.
Nothing happened.
Kaidan frowned, frustration tightening his chest. He tried again, clenching his fists and focusing harder. The warmth flickered like a dying ember, teasing him before vanishing entirely. His jaw tightened as disappointment threatened to overwhelm him. Memories of his father's voice echoed in his mind: "Strength doesn't come all at once, Kaidan. You have to earn it, one step at a time."
Exhaling slowly, Kaidan relaxed his body. He let go of the frustration, allowing patience to take its place. He tried one final time, this time simply breathing and letting the Flow come to him. It stirred faintly, a whisper of potential, but nothing more.
Eventually, Kaidan opened his eyes. The glow faded, leaving only the dim light of the setting sun. "Not yet," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. His body ached, and his mind felt heavy with the effort.
Unrolling his blanket, Kaidan lay down beneath the stars, his gaze fixed on the infinite expanse above. As exhaustion pulled him toward sleep, he made a silent promise: tomorrow, he would try again—and the day after that, and the day after that, until he found the strength he sought.
With that resolve, Kaidan drifted off, the clearing falling silent save for the soft rustle of the night wind.