The cold stone beneath Jaxon's bare feet was unforgiving, but he barely noticed. He was too lost in the sight before him—the sight of his younger self, training tirelessly as he had done all those years ago.
It was a version of him that didn't question, didn't doubt. The young Jaxon before him was focused, every movement driven by the rigid instructions hammered into his body day after day. But there was something hollow in his eyes—a dullness, as if he didn't truly understand why he was here. What was the purpose of all this? What was he striving for?
Jaxon watched his younger self struggle through the same training he had once done, but now, as a ten-year-old, the weight of it felt so much heavier. The clarity that had once driven him seemed to fade with each passing year.
The air around him seemed to pulse with the weight of the trial. Was this really his path? He hadn't thought about it in years, not with the pressure of being chosen as a protector, a leader, someone destined for greatness. Now, standing on the precipice of his future, the truth was finally clear.
What was the point of all this training?
He wanted to be strong. But why? Was it because of his future role? Or had it all been for the wrong reasons? The desire to protect, to prove himself, to fulfill others' expectations… It had been enough then, but now it seemed so fragile.
He watched as his younger self faltered, stumbling as his body gave out from exhaustion. His small hands trembled, and his face twisted in frustration. Jaxon's heart clenched—he could feel the pain of that child as if it were his own. Why was he still doing this?
A voice echoed in his mind, breaking through the fog of doubt. "Jaxon… You're here for a reason. Remember what you wanted, before all of this… what made you start training in the first place?"
Jaxon didn't respond, his gaze still fixed on the young version of himself. His heart was heavy. What was he supposed to do?
The silence in the air grew thick, almost suffocating. His younger self collapsed to his knees, unable to continue. There was nothing but exhaustion, frustration, and confusion in his eyes.
That's when the clarity came. He was lost. Lost in the endless cycle of training and expectation.
He'd never stopped to ask why. Not until now. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He had become so focused on the future that he'd forgotten to live in the present.
The weight of that truth sank in. Jaxon's throat tightened as he watched his younger self—he had been so desperate for approval, so afraid of failure, that he'd lost sight of what truly mattered.
It wasn't about being the strongest, the most powerful. It wasn't about proving something to others. It was about being true to himself, to his desires, his curiosity about the world. The thirst for knowledge, for understanding, was what had always driven him—before it was twisted into the relentless pursuit of strength and glory.
Jaxon took a deep breath. He could feel the weight of time pressing down on him, the heavy burden of his choices and fears. But as he stood there, watching the boy he once was, something inside him shifted. He understood now. The fear of failure, of not living up to expectations, was only holding him back.
A flicker of a smile tugged at his lips. Maybe, just maybe, there was another way. A path where he didn't have to be bound by the past or the future. A path where he could still move forward, but without the weight of expectations hanging over him.
The younger Jaxon looked up at him, eyes wide with uncertainty. What are you going to do now? The unspoken question hung in the air between them.
Jaxon nodded to his younger self. "It's okay," he whispered, the words carrying the weight of his realization. "You don't have to carry this burden alone anymore."
The trial was not about overcoming the past—it was about accepting it. About recognizing that the future was unknown, but the present, the now, was what mattered.
As the vision of his younger self began to fade, a sense of peace settled within Jaxon. He was ready to embrace his true self, the one who was no longer driven by fear of failure or the pressure to be perfect.
And for the first time in a long time, he understood what it meant to truly be present.