The first time Kael heard it, he thought it was a trick of the wind.
A whisper, faint and broken, carried through the trees while the sky was still gray with sleep. It was the kind of sound you could easily explain away — the rustling of leaves, the sigh of a bird taking flight.
But Kael knew better.
You don't fight gods and live through time itself without learning to listen closely.
---
He sat beneath the old birch near the stream, his usual spot — not too close to the house, but near enough that Lira could still glance over and smile, thinking her son was just playing.
He wasn't.
He never was.
Kael sat with his eyes closed, breathing in slow, steady rhythms, letting his awareness sink past the surface of his senses. He wasn't trying to use mana this time. He was trying to feel it.
The way he would in the quiet just before a battlefield went still. When every fiber of your being was tuned to the moment. When you could feel a heartbeat that wasn't your own.
And today... he felt something.
A flicker.
A presence.
Not close — but not far, either. Somewhere beyond the tree line, nestled in the hills that surrounded their quiet village.
Not wild. Not animal.
Human.
But not like the others.
Not like them. Like me.
The realization settled into his bones like the chill of early autumn.
He wasn't alone.
---
He waited three days before acting.
Kael had never been impulsive. Not in his past life, and certainly not now, trapped in the fragile body of a boy who still needed help tying his shoes. But those three days tested him.
Each night, the whisper returned. Not words, but intention — something pulling at the edges of his awareness. Like two stars caught in the same orbit. Something out there was reaching.
On the fourth morning, he told his mother he wanted to explore by the woods.
She hesitated, but Dren waved her worry off with a grin. "He's got his father's eyes. Let him wander. He'll come back when he's hungry."
He would. He always did.
---
The forest beyond the village wasn't dense, but it felt old. The trees were wide and gnarled, their roots tangled like sleeping serpents beneath the moss. The air smelled of damp earth and sun-warmed bark. To most, it would feel peaceful.
To Kael, it felt like holding your breath before a duel.
He moved slowly, feet silent, eyes sharp. Not hunting — listening.
The presence was clearer now. It had a rhythm, almost like mana, but not quite. It resonated with something in him. A tether he didn't remember forming, pulling gently in one direction.
Left. Up the ridge.
He followed it without question.
---
At the top of the hill, beneath a crooked pine, he found a girl.
She couldn't have been older than six. Her hair was silver — not pale blonde, not white. Silver. Like moonlight in motion. She sat cross-legged in the dirt, her eyes closed, fingers curled around a small, polished stone that shimmered faintly with residual energy.
Kael froze.
Not because she was dangerous — not yet — but because he recognized her.
Not her face. Not her voice. But the aura.
She was like him.
Not reborn, maybe. Not a warrior. But touched. Woven with something ancient. Something awakened far too early for her age.
And in that moment, her eyes snapped open.
Not slowly. Not dreamily.
Snapped.
They locked onto him with a clarity no child should possess. And he knew: she sensed him, too.
They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. The wind stirred the leaves. A bird called in the distance. But here, between them, the air stood still.
"You're not normal," she said plainly.
Kael didn't flinch. "Neither are you."
She tilted her head slightly. "I saw you in a dream."
That threw him off.
He took a cautious step closer. "What did you see?"
Her lips twitched — not quite a smile, but close. "A star falling. And a sword in its heart."
Kael swallowed hard.
This wasn't a coincidence.
---
They spoke little after that.
Names were exchanged — hers was Elira. Her parents lived further north, in a cottage nestled between farms. She came here sometimes to "listen to the quiet," though Kael could tell that wasn't the full truth.
They sat side by side under the crooked pine for a while, neither speaking, both simply aware.
And Kael realized something strange.
For the first time since his rebirth… he didn't feel alone.
---
On the way home, Kael didn't walk like a child.
He moved like a sentinel — slow, steady, deep in thought.
Elira's words echoed in his mind. A sword in its heart.
What did she know? What had she seen?
Was she a seer? A fragment? A vessel?
He didn't know.
But he knew this: their meeting wasn't an accident.
The universe — or whatever remained of its cruel mechanics — was still moving pieces.
And Kael, whether he liked it or not, had just been reminded of the game.
---
That night, he didn't sleep.
He sat by the window, watching the stars, listening again to the wind.
It whispered still — softer now.
But no longer alone.
There were others.
Some would be allies.
Some would be monsters.
Kael didn't know which Elira would become.
But he would be ready for either.