The first light of dawn pierces through the canopy of the sparse forest, bathing the world in hues of orange and gold. Kaien opens his eyes to the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds, the serenity of the moment sharply contrasting the chaos and bloodshed of the previous day. For a fleeting second, he wonders if it was all a nightmare. But the aching weight in his chest, the faint pulse of the Negative Current swirling inside him, and the sight of Lyra curled up beside the wooden box quickly dispel the thought.
He exhales slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The city of Sevryn is behind him now, but the memory of its destruction lingers, sharp and unyielding. He turns his gaze to Lyra, still fast asleep beneath the tree. Her small frame rises and falls with each soft breath, her face peaceful despite everything she's endured.
Kaien stands, stretching his stiff limbs. The morning air is cool against his skin, carrying with it the earthy scent of dew and distant salt from the Sea of Essence far below the cliffs. His thoughts drift to the power he had stolen—no, taken—when the Negative Current had awakened within him. The mercenary's Inner Tide, a Tide Shaper's strength, had felt foreign yet strangely intuitive in his hands during the chaos. He hadn't dared to test it further last night, too drained and wary of attracting unwanted attention.
Now, with Lyra still asleep and the forest silent around them, the opportunity to explore his newfound ability beckons.
Kaien steps a few paces away, ensuring he doesn't wake Lyra. Closing his eyes, he focuses on the unfamiliar tide within him. It feels cold, smooth, and malleable—like liquid metal flowing through his veins. He calls to it, letting the Negative Current guide him.
The response is immediate. A surge of energy floods his body, rushing to his fingertips like a wave crashing against the shore. His hand moves instinctively, tracing the air with deliberate motions as the essence within him begins to coalesce.
The mercenary had used this power to forge a hammer—Kaien remembers the weapon's weight, its devastating strength—but Kaien's vision is different. He shapes the tide with precision, willing it into a blade. The process feels natural, as though his mind knows exactly what to do.
The tide solidifies, and in his hand appears a sleek, curved sword. Its surface shimmers faintly, a muted silver glow rippling along its edge. The weight is perfect, the balance flawless. Kaien grips it tightly, the realization dawning on him: he can wield the mercenary's power in his own way.
For the first time since his awakening, a flicker of hope ignites within him. This ability—this stolen tide—could be his key to survival. No one would suspect a Tidelock of wielding such a power openly.
He swings the blade experimentally, slicing through the air with a satisfying whoosh. The energy responds to his every command, adapting to his movements like an extension of his own body. A grin tugs at the corners of his lips, though it quickly fades as he remembers their dire situation.
All of a sudden the sword dissolves back into raw tide energy, vanishing like mist in the morning sun. Kaien clenches his fists, his resolve hardening. He may have awakened to a power he doesn't fully understand, but he's not helpless anymore. Although he know that he needs time and proper training in order to master his newfound powers. A look of determination spreads across his face.
Kaien turns back to find Lyra stirring, her small hands rubbing her eyes as she sits up. She looks around, disoriented for a moment, before her gaze finds him.
"You're awake," she murmurs, her voice still groggy.
"And you slept through the whole night," Kaien replies, walking over to her. "That's good. You needed the rest."
Lyra looks down at the wooden box in her lap, tracing its edges with her fingers. "What about you? Did you sleep?"
Kaien shrugs. "A little." It's a lie, but he doesn't see the point in worrying her.
She glances up at him, her expression curious. "What now?"
Kaien crouches beside her, his tone gentle. "Now we survive. We need food, water, and a place to rest that isn't out in the open." He pauses, studying her closely. "But first, I need to know more about you."
Lyra frowns. "What do you mean?"
"Your Inner Tide," Kaien says. "I know everyone in this world has one, even if they're not warriors or mercenaries. What's yours?"
For a moment, she doesn't answer. Her fingers tighten around the box, her gaze dropping to the ground. Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I have the Healing Tide."
Kaien raises an eyebrow. "Healing?"
She nods, glancing up at him shyly. "It's not strong. I can't do much with it—just small wounds, like cuts and scrapes. It's… all I've ever been able to do."
Kaien studies her, his mind racing. Healing Tides are rare, even among those who actively cultivate their Inner Tides. The fact that she possesses one, even if it's weak, could be invaluable. But it also makes her a target.
"Have you ever used it on anyone else?" he asks.
Lyra hesitates. "Once. A long time ago. My—" She cuts herself off, her face tightening with grief.
Kaien doesn't push her to continue. Instead, he nods. "It's a gift, Lyra. Don't let anyone make you think otherwise."
She looks up at him, her expression softening. "What about you? You're different… aren't you? I remember that people used to avoid you back in Sevryn."
Kaien stiffens, the weight of her words settling over him. He could lie, brush off her question, but something in her gaze makes him stop. She deserves the truth—or at least part of it.
"I wasn't born with an Inner Tide," he admits quietly.
Lyra's eyes widen. "But… that's impossible."
"I thought so too," Kaien says, his voice steady. "But something changed yesterday. I don't know what it means yet, but I'll figure it out."
As the sun climbs higher into the sky, the two of them set off through the forest. Kaien keeps a careful eye on their surroundings, his senses alert for any signs of danger.
The journey is slow. Lyra's small frame and lack of strength mean frequent breaks, but Kaien doesn't mind. He uses the time to gather what little food he can find—berries, edible roots, and the occasional mushroom.
The forest begins to thin as they move further north, the rocky terrain giving way to rolling hills. Kaien spots a stream in the distance, its sparkling water cutting through the landscape like a silver ribbon.
"Stay here," he tells Lyra, setting her down beneath a tree. "I'll get us some water."
She nods, clutching the box tightly. Kaien heads toward the stream, his mind already calculating their next move.
The world is vast, filled with countless kingdoms, clans, and dangers. But somewhere out there is a place where they can be safe—where they can rebuild.
For now, survival is all that matters. But deep in his heart, Kaien knows this is only the beginning. The tides of fate have shifted, and he is no longer just a pawn in their flow.