Kyan found himself lost in his own thoughts, his mind clouded with worry. The old man and the girl were missing, and with the weight of doubt pressing on his shoulders, he decided it was time to use his last card. He knew there was a way to escape this reality, to go back, correct the mistakes, and maybe even understand what was happening.
With a deep breath and a sense of resolution, he closed his eyes and did the impossible: his life was interrupted, a cycle of pain and suffering coming to an end as time bent to his will. He felt his body being pulled backward, as if the very essence of his existence was being sucked into the spiral of time, until finally, the void dissipated, and he awoke. No longer in the silent, empty cabin, but in a familiar place, yet slightly altered. Time had turned back ten days.
The air felt lighter, and the wounds that had healed on his body returned, now visible as fresh marks on his skin. But as he looked around, something was wrong. The routine he expected wasn't unfolding as before. There was no sound of coffee being made by Krelan, nor the silent presence of the girl, whose bright eyes always seemed to follow his movements.
Kyan quickly got up, heading to the garden, and then toward the cabin. His hurried steps echoed in an unsettling silence. He entered the house but found neither of them. Krelan's chair was empty, the table, which should have been covered with coffee preparations, was untouched. The place was empty of any sign of life, once again.
Frustrated, he stepped back outside, feeling the cold morning wind on his face. The vastness of the plain before him seemed more oppressive than ever. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had returned, but they were still gone, as if they were beyond time, somewhere out of his reach.
He walked for hours, searching for any sign, any trace that could indicate where Krelan and the girl were. But there was nothing. The horizon showed nothing but its own emptiness. No trace. No footprints.
The feeling of powerlessness took over Kyan. Even with his ability to manipulate time, even with the power he now possessed, he couldn't reach what was beyond the reality he knew. It was as if the old man and the girl were beyond his reach, in a place where even time couldn't touch them.
"Why... why aren't they here?" Kyan murmured to himself, frustration mixing with growing fear. Something bigger was happening, and he still didn't know what it was.
The truth was, even having gone back in time, he was no longer in control. He didn't know where they were or why they were missing, but he knew something was terribly wrong. And he discovered that time, in fact, was not his ally.
...
Time passed slowly, an entire month dragging on like a distant echo. Kyan no longer sought to improve his body, nor did he care about the exercises that once sustained him. He was somewhere else, further away, lost in an abyss of thoughts and failed attempts. His body still carried the marks of the battles he had fought, but his physique had become irrelevant. He focused only on one thing: mastering the gift that still eluded him.
He spent his days in silence, training his skill with the invocation of the specters. It wasn't easy. For weeks, he struggled against emptiness and failure. Every time he tried, the specter would appear, but quickly vanish, without form or consistency. The shadow that appeared before him had no consciousness. It was merely a remnant from beyond, without depth, without purpose.
But, over time, Kyan began to notice something. After countless attempts, something different happened. At first, it was nothing more than a diffuse shadow, like a passing breeze that soon dissipated. But then, during a particularly cold night, he finally managed to summon something more solid. A weak figure, a pale silhouette, without consistency. A specter that appeared before him, trembling and hesitant. He could almost hear its breath – or what remained of it. The creature's eyes were empty, expressionless, but Kyan felt a slight tremor in the air when it tried to speak.
"Rain..."
The word was dragged out, meaningless, almost a sigh of something that no longer had form, a vague attempt to communicate. Kyan barely managed to understand. The specter floated before him, a weak presence, unable to maintain itself. He extended his hand, trying to grasp what remained of its essence, but before he could take a step forward, the shadow vanished, dissipating like smoke in the wind.
Kyan stood in silence, staring at the emptiness where the figure had been. The feeling of frustration gripped his chest, but he knew that he had progressed in some way, even if it was only a small step. He had summoned something, but not what he had expected. The specter didn't have the power he had imagined, it lacked consciousness or control. It was just a memory of what could have been, a shadow without a story.
He walked away, but didn't feel satisfied. On the contrary, the feeling that something was still out of his reach only intensified. The control he sought seemed as distant as it did on the first day. He was still trapped in his own pursuit, lost in the attempt to understand what was real and what was merely illusion.
The hope he had felt at the beginning of the journey was beginning to dissipate, but he refused to give up. Even if the darkness surrounded him, he still sought a way to master what controlled him. But as his specters failed, he became more skeptical. They were only shadows, and he, just a man trying to forge something more.