Kieran's legs ached, and his breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled along the forest's winding paths. His feet were cut and raw, his body drained from the constant flight through the night and into the morning. Yet, something in the air, some unseen force, pulled him forward. He couldn't explain it, but it was as though the forest itself was guiding him—leading him to something that had been waiting for him all along.
The further he walked, the more the trees seemed to close in around him, their gnarled branches twisting together overhead to form an almost impenetrable canopy. The light that filtered through was dim, making it feel as though dusk had already settled despite it being midday. The silence was unnatural. Even the wind had ceased its whistling, leaving only the steady rhythm of Kieran's breath and the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot.
Kieran felt something stir within him—a flicker, a spark in his chest that seemed to awaken with each step. His hand went to his side, where he had felt it before—the strange warmth, the power that had surged through him when the villagers had chased him, when the torches had gone out and the shadows had flickered.
A shiver ran down his spine as he realized it was happening again.
The woods were alive with an energy he didn't understand. And that was what terrified him. That power—it was his, but it wasn't. It felt as if it was being drawn from something deep, something old, and something dangerous. Yet he could not pull away. Every step felt necessary, as though this path, this force, was his destiny.
He reached a clearing, and there, at the edge of the woods, lay the lake.
The water was black as ink, its surface perfectly still, reflecting the dark trees that surrounded it. The air was thick with mist, curling up from the surface like tendrils reaching for the sky. Kieran stopped at the water's edge, mesmerized by its unnerving calm. He had never seen the lake before, but it felt familiar, as though he had always known it was here, waiting for him.
He stood there, frozen, until the world around him seemed to hum. A sound that was neither wind nor voice—something older—echoed through the clearing, rising from the depths of the water itself. The lake responded to him. He didn't know how, but he could feel it in the pit of his stomach, in the very marrow of his bones.
A voice rose from the depths, low and rippling like the water itself. It was not spoken aloud, but rather, felt—heard in his mind. "Kieran…"
He shuddered, heart pounding. The voice was familiar, yet foreign. It held a power that twisted through his thoughts, pulling at him, urging him closer.
He wanted to run. He wanted to flee from this, from the pull of something he couldn't explain. But his body refused to move. His feet were rooted to the ground, his gaze locked on the water as the voice called his name again, this time louder, more insistent.
"Come closer…"
Something in the depths stirred. The mist swirled violently, and the surface of the lake began to ripple as if something massive, something ancient, was moving beneath it.
Kieran's breath hitched. The warmth in his chest surged, pushing outwards, filling his veins with heat. The magic within him roared to life as he stumbled forward, drawn by a force greater than his fear.
"Kieran, you are chosen," the voice said, its tone cold, but undeniable. It resonated in his skull, vibrating through his teeth. "Come to me."
He knelt at the water's edge, trembling, and with a single breath, he dipped his fingers into the blackness.
The moment his skin touched the surface, the water reacted violently. It surged upwards in a great wave, curling around his arm, binding his fingers as though the lake itself had reached for him. The power inside him flared, and a fierce pulse of magic exploded from his chest, lighting up the clearing like a bolt of lightning. For a moment, the world was nothing but light and sound—the lake, the power, the pulse of magic.
And then, the lake fell silent.
Kieran pulled his hand back, gasping for air. His heart was racing, his head spinning. The air around him felt charged, like the world was holding its breath.
But something was different. He felt changed. A connection had formed between him and the lake—something deeper than his own magic, something more primal and old. The power inside him had been awakened, but it had been guided, shaped by the water, by the voice.
The lake still called to him, its ripples pulsing, and Kieran felt it now more than ever. The question, however, burned in his chest. What had he just done? What was this force? And what would it mean for him, for his future?
He rose shakily to his feet, the weight of the moment settling on him like a cloak. The magic inside him throbbed with life, the path ahead uncertain, but clear in its inevitability. He was no longer just Kieran, the silent twin. No longer the shadow. He was something more now. Something the world had not yet seen.
And the lake had chosen him.