Tomorrow, November 14th, would mark my 14th birthday. Thanks to my grandpa, my ability to manipulate the mana within me has gotten better day by day, although it was still a taxing process. We had also been developing my martial arts, as it was what he insisted. I can now manipulate mana to use the 4 elements, which according to grandpa is a not so common gift, although manipulation of fire was more my specialty. However, my mana heart was still weak and I could do very little before becoming drained and exhausted.
It was late and I had settled into bed when I heard my grandpa calling for me. His voice had that familiar authoritative tone, so somewhat reluctantly I went to see what he wanted. When I stepped into the room, I found him sharpening his sword. It wasn't just any sword; it was his prized possession, one he would reluctantly show. The blade gleamed in the dim light, casting reflections that danced across the room's wooden walls.
He noticed me and, without looking up from his task, said, "Ash, I need you to do something for me. I know it's late, but it's important. Go down into the forest, to the wood chopper, and fetch a bag of materials I left."
His request caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but protest. "Gramps, can I just get some rest? It's been a long day—we trained a lot harder than usual."
His eyes, usually warm with a twinkle of mischief, were grave and weighty when he looked at me. "Ashtyn, I'm not asking. Go. Now."
I let out a long sigh, the weight of fatigue making it feel heavier than usual. Reluctantly, I grabbed some clothes, slipping into a shirt, pants, and my boots. Another sigh escaped me as I stepped outside, the cool night air biting at my skin.
The journey to the wood chopper took about 20 minutes, the path familiar yet eerie under the pale moonlight. The forest was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. I searched around the wood chopper for the bag, but after a few minutes, it became clear that it wasn't there. Frustration bubbled up inside me. Has someone stolen it? Or was this some kind of test from Gramps? Either way, something didn't feel right.
Just as I was about to head back, the night was shattered by a deafening explosion. The ground trembled beneath me, and I could see bursts of blue and red flames, their light cascading shadows down the mountain side, mingling with ice and earth, tearing through the forest up the mountain—toward my home. My heart plummeted into my stomach.
Fear and adrenaline surged through me, and I took off running back up the mountain, almost instinctively pushing mana all throughout my body to move faster. Each step brought the mana signatures closer—powerful, chaotic, and terrifying. The explosions grew louder, shaking the forest to its roots, sending birds and beasts fleeing in all directions. The closer I got, the more I could feel the raw, malevolent energy tearing through the air.
When I finally reached the clearing near our home, I was caught in the shockwave of another explosion. This one was different—crafted by some unrecognisable magic. The force sent me sprawling, and my vision blurred as I crashed to the ground. When I finally managed to open my eyes, my home was a fiery ruin, collapsing in on itself. The forest surrounding it had caught ablaze, tearing and cracking apart due to the immense heat. Blood trickled down my face, and pain throbbed throughout my body. I tried to channel mana in a vain attempt to heal my wounds, but my reservoirs were nearly depleted, and my control was too weak. It was hopeless.
In my mind's eye, I saw the lush green meadows that surrounded our home, now engulfed in an inferno of fire and ice. The place that had always been my sanctuary was gone, reduced to ashes. I knelt there in shock, my hands trembling as I tried to process what had happened.
Suddenly, I sensed someone standing beside me. I turned to see a figure cloaked from head to toe in dark robes. His presence was suffocating, his mana oppressive.
"How weak." he said, his tone cold and dismissive. "But a promise is a promise after all, despite the fact I can't fathom what he sees..."
His words snapped me out of my daze, anger and confusion surging through me. "What do you mean, 'promise'? Did you do all of this?"
The robed man remained calm, his voice as cold as the night air. "Yes, who else in the desolate mountain could have it been. I see the denial on your face boy, it's ever so sweet. He fought well, but in the end, River knew he couldn't win. Made me promise not to harm you before he fell, such compassion, how I envy."
The man's words struck me like a physical blow. Gramps… defeated? It didn't seem possible. He had always been so strong, so invincible in my eyes. I could barely process what was happening. The man looked down at me, his gaze piercing through the shadows of his hood. "Oh Ashtyn, I'll be watching your progress. Don't disappoint me." He sounded almost joyful.
With that, he vanished in a small explosion of mana, leaving me alone in the smouldering remains of what used to be my home. I managed to pull myself to my feet, my body screaming in protest. I limped and crawled over to where my grandfather lay, his body battered and bloodied. Tears blurred my vision as I looked at him, my heart breaking into a million pieces.
Just as I was about to lose all hope, he coughed weakly, blood staining his lips. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me, a faint smile on his face. "Ash… you made it back. I'm glad you're safe… You need to get those injuries treated."
"Gramps, no—" I started to protest, but he raised a trembling hand to silence me.
"Let me finish, kid… I don't have much time left." I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay silent as he continued. "You were always my greatest pride, Ash. Remember that. Don't let this break you. Don't let revenge consume you. This is my gift to you, my last student, my grandson."
With shaking hands, he handed me his katana, the blade that had been his constant companion. I took it from him, clutching it tightly as he gently pulled me into his arms, holding me close one last time. His final words were barely a whisper, but they echoed in my soul.
"Live your life the way you want, one day you'll hear the songs of the sword, Ash. Make it count…." With that, he took his last breath, his body going still as he found his eternal rest.
For a moment, the world stood still. Then, a piercing scream tore from my throat, raw and filled with anguish, echoing through the forest like a wounded animal. It was a sound born from the deepest part of my soul, the sound of a heart breaking beyond repair. The scream died down, leaving me gasping for breath, the weight of my loss crushing down on me.
My vision began to blur again, not from tears, but from exhaustion and blood loss. The world around me started to fade, the flames and ruins blurring together into darkness. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was the image of my grandfather's peaceful face, his final words echoing in my mind like a fading dream.
And then, there was nothing but an infinite void of darkness.