Chapter Three: Hesitation in the Veins
In the days that followed, Lian wasn't the same.
He would wake up early and help his mother, smile at people in the market, talk to children... everything seemed normal. But inside, he was a whirlwind of thoughts.
Sometimes, carrying a basket of vegetables, he would feel the basket feel lighter for a moment, then feel heavier again.
Sometimes, washing his face in the river, he would see strange ripples of silver light between the drops of water.
A small cat that had once followed him suddenly stopped, stared at his trembling hand, and then ran away in terror.
None of these signs seemed to go unnoticed... or so he thought.
One evening, the villagers gathered around a large fire to celebrate the harvest. The flames lit up faces, and children ran around laughing. Lian sat among them, trying to look normal, but something felt off.
The fire itself... seemed to glow with a silvery glow deep within, invisible to others.
"Lian?" his little friend Mark suddenly asked. "Huh?"
"You're staring at the fire as if you're seeing it for the first time."
Lian was confused and laughed. "Just thinking."
But Mark's eyes narrowed, as if he didn't like something.
The next day, while Lian was gathering firewood, Uncle Vitor, one of the village elders, passed by.
He paused to consider him for a moment and said, "I heard you've changed, boy. You don't play like you used to, and you don't talk as much. Has something happened?"
Lian trembled, but composed himself. "No, you've just grown a little older."
Vittor laughed lightly. "Older doesn't make your eyes shine in the dark." Then he walked off, leaving Lian puzzled.
Another night, he returned to the riverbank as usual. He sat watching the water, trying to summon the thread. He concentrated so long that sweat dripped from his brow.
Finally... a thin, short, almost invisible silver thread appeared.
But this time, it didn't fade so quickly. Instead, it continued to sway in front of him as if watching.
He extended his trembling hand, trying to touch it... Suddenly, he heard a faint voice in his ear:
"Power is not a gift, but a question. What will you answer?"
Lian jumped to his feet and looked around. There was no one there.
But on a nearby rock, he found a small inscription that hadn't been there before:
🌑 A gray circular mark, like a half-closed eye.
He felt a chill run through his blood. He didn't understand what it meant, but he knew one thing: he wasn't alone.
Elsewhere in the village, the man in the gray cloak sat in the shadows, smiling faintly as he watched from afar.
"He's starting to hear. The seed is responding faster than I expected. The next stage will be more exciting."