The days that followed bled into each other, painted with the hues of confusion and silent turmoil. Kaen tried to keep moving, to keep breathing, but the memory of that shadowed figure haunted him like smoke that clung to the corners of his mind. Each time he blinked, he saw that gaze—cold yet ancient, eyes that had seen too much and judged even more.
Training became his only escape. He pushed his body beyond exhaustion, drawing power from the pulsing storm within him. But no matter how hard he fought, no matter how deeply he reached into his core, the power remained wild—untamed. It surged like a beast caged too long, roaring in silence beneath his skin. And worse, the whispers were growing louder.
Fragments of memories surfaced like ghostly echoes—his mother's soft voice, his father's hardened glare, a lullaby he couldn't place. They came without warning and vanished just as fast, leaving Kaen grasping for meaning in shadows. Who was he? A weapon? A mistake? A legacy? The truth danced just out of reach.
One dawn, before the light could pierce through the mist, Kaen stood at the forest's edge. He had made his choice. He would not find answers here, trapped beneath these familiar trees. He had to go beyond the edge of the known—to chase the pieces of himself scattered across the world.
He packed lightly: his sword, weathered and steady; rations to last a few days; and a worn map discovered in a sealed chest—marked with cryptic symbols and a single name: The Shrouded Peak.
As he stepped into the wild, something stirred in the wind. It tugged at him—not with violence, but with purpose. As if the very world was watching, waiting for him to move.
The road was merciless. The forest twisted into broken cliffs and jagged terrain. But Kaen walked on. For the first time, he wasn't fleeing. He was pursuing something real. Something that might finally explain why he bled power and heard voices in silence.
At a shallow river, he paused to drink and breathe. His reflection stared back, a boy shaped by pain and promises. He unfolded the map again. The ink was faded, but the mark was clear—a circle slashed by an 'X' over an uncharted range.
"Shrouded Peak," he whispered, the name vibrating in his chest. It wasn't just a place. It was a calling.
He pressed forward.
As night fell, he reached the foot of the mountain. Mist coiled around its base, thick and alive, hiding its peak from the world. The mountain loomed like a sleeping giant. Silent. Watching.
Kaen lit a small fire, the flickering flames no match for the cold wrapping around him. But it wasn't the cold that unsettled him. It was the whispers—closer now, more urgent. The same voice from the forest repeated in his memory: "The power inside you is a legacy. A burden."
Kaen clenched his fists.
Was this the burden? The pull toward a mountain shrouded in secrets and fog? The legacy of blood and whispers?
He didn't have the answers.
But tomorrow, he would climb. Tomorrow, he would face whatever waited at the peak.
Even if it broke him.