The days continued to drag on in that desolate plain, and Kyan felt the weight of repetition. Each morning brought the same routine: he would wake up early, eat the simple food Krelan prepared with a grumble of dissatisfaction, and unsuccessfully try to understand the power now dwelling inside him.
The old man remained grumpy, but there was a certain constancy to his presence. Despite his complaints, he never denied help when Kyan needed it, whether it was tending to his wounds or providing vague advice about the world around them.
However, what intrigued Kyan the most wasn't the old man, but the girl. She came and went like the wind, without warning or explanation. Whenever she appeared, her presence was discreet, but her bright, almost hypnotizing eyes never stopped watching him. It was as if she was waiting for something, something he himself didn't understand.
...
One afternoon, Kyan was in the garden, watching the sky painted in orange tones by the setting sun. He sat on a fallen log, his body still weary from the fruitless attempts to invoke his gift. The girl appeared again, as silent as ever, sitting a few meters away, her black wings swaying gently in the wind.
He stared at her for a moment, still uncomfortable with that persistent gaze.
"Don't you ever get tired of looking at me like that?" he finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice carried a tone of exasperation but also a hint of curiosity.
The girl tilted her head as if pondering the question but remained silent. Instead, she pointed a finger at Kyan's hands, where a faint purple glow still tried to form.
Kyan sighed and looked at his own hands. "This? It's just a trick I can't make work. There's nothing to see here."
The girl shook her head slightly, her eyes shining more intensely, as if disagreeing with him. Then, for the first time, she opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was so soft it was almost lost in the sound of the wind.
"It's not just a trick," she murmured. "You just don't understand it yet."
Kyan raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Ah, so you talk. That's new. And what do you think you know about this?"
She didn't answer, merely diverting her gaze to the horizon. The silence that followed was no less enigmatic than her words.
...
Later that night, as the fire in the hearth crackled softly, Krelan tossed some dried herbs into a wooden bowl, grinding them with a pestle. Kyan, sitting close to the warmth of the fire, was still pondering the girl's words.
"She spoke to me today," he said casually.
Krelan raised an eyebrow but didn't stop what he was doing. "Oh? And what did she say?"
"That I don't understand my own power. That it's not just a trick." Kyan shrugged. "Do you think she knows something I don't?"
Krelan let out a short, dry laugh. "Boy, in this world, even the wind knows things you don't. But the little raven... she has her own secrets. Maybe she sees something in you that even you can't see."
"Great. More mysteries," Kyan grumbled, leaning back in his chair. "Just what I needed."
The old man shrugged, returning to his work. "If it bothers you so much, maybe it's time you started asking better questions. Or maybe stop trying to force answers you're not ready to hear yet."
Krelan's words lingered in the air, weighing on Kyan more than he cared to admit. Deep down, he knew there was truth in them. But how could he accept answers when he barely knew what questions to ask?
Outside, the cold night breeze blew, carrying with it an almost imperceptible whisper. It was a sound Kyan didn't recognize, but it made the girl's wings flutter as if responding to a distant call.
And, for the first time, Kyan wondered if her silence hid more than he imagined.
...
The next morning, Kyan woke up with a strange feeling of emptiness. There were no sounds—no usual grumbles from Krelan moving around the cabin, no creaking of the old kettle being set over the fire. Just silence.
He frowned, still lying down, waiting to hear any sign of movement. Nothing came. After a few minutes of restless waiting, he sat on the edge of the makeshift bed and looked around. The cabin was engulfed in an unnatural stillness.
"Old man?" he called, his voice hoarse from sleep. No response.
Kyan stood up, his feet touching the cold wooden floor, and began inspecting the space. The table was empty, with no sign of breakfast having been prepared. Krelan's usual chair was empty, and even the hearth, typically lit even through the night, was extinguished and cold.
He stepped outside the cabin, the fresh morning air hitting him like a slap. The vast plain stretched out before him, the cloudy sky casting everything in a grayish light. There was no sign of Krelan or the girl. He glanced to the sides, towards the garden where he often trained, but it was also deserted.
Worry began to gnaw at him. Kyan had never woken up alone since arriving in that place. He walked around the cabin, looking for any clue about where the two might have gone. The ground was untouched, with no fresh footprints or signs that anyone had left in a hurry.
"Krelan?" he called again, louder this time. The plain only echoed back his own voice.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to control the growing unease. Something was wrong. The old man was grumpy and unpredictable, but he would never leave without saying anything. And the girl... she was always nearby, like a silent shadow. Where could they be?
Kyan returned to the cabin, rummaging through everything for any clue: papers, out-of-place objects, anything that might indicate where they had gone. But everything was exactly as he had left it the night before.
"This doesn't make sense..." he muttered to himself, feeling his throat go dry.
For a moment, Kyan stood still, straining to hear anything—a sound, a whisper, even the wind. But the absence of noise was almost deafening. It was as if the world around him had completely stopped.
He felt a shiver run down his spine. The silence, once merely strange, now seemed... unnatural. The kind of silence that heralded something bigger, something he didn't understand.
"What the hell is going on here?" he asked aloud, but again, there was no answer.
Kyan took a deep breath, forcing himself to think clearly. If there were no tracks and the silence was so absolute, it meant something very unusual had happened. But exactly what, he didn't know.
Determined, he left the cabin again, this time walking beyond the garden. Perhaps he would find something in the vastness of the plains—some sign that Krelan and the girl were safe, or at least that he wasn't entirely alone.
As he walked, the wind began to blow softly, bringing a slight chill that made his skin prickle. The desolate landscape offered no clues: just low grass and scattered stones. Kyan quickened his pace, his worry turning into frustration.
"Stubborn old man... why the hell would you leave without saying anything?" he muttered to himself, kicking a stone along the way.
But he found nothing, not a single hint. After walking for a while, he stopped and looked around. The cabin was now a distant speck behind him, and all around him was emptiness. Kyan clenched his fists, frustrated.
"So, this is how it's going to be now?" he asked the void. No one answered. The silence remained absolute, the wind only a faint memory. He took a deep breath and headed back to the cabin, feeling the weight of Krelan and the girl's absence like an invisible shadow hovering over him.