Kaelion couldn't sleep at all that night.
The adrenaline of the Awakening still coursed through his veins like fire.
His heart pounded relentlessly, and his mind spun with thoughts too large for the small room that surrounded him.
He had awakened Space and Time.
Two of the most elusive, powerful Laws in existence.
Not one — but both.
"This doesn't make sense…"
he muttered, lying on his worn mattress, staring through the cracked ceiling at the moonlight beyond.
"How am I supposed to understand something like that?"
He turned over again and again, restless.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same thing — the stars forming the words Space and Time, and the voice of the Dream Goddess echoing above them.
When dawn finally came, sunlight slipped through the broken roof, brushing against his pale skin.
Kaelion rose slowly, pulled his ragged cloak over his shoulders, and stepped outside.
Not to steal.
But to think.
—
He wandered aimlessly through the quiet morning streets, his eyes fixed on the ground, his thoughts drifting deep into the unknown.
"Where does one begin to understand Space? Or Time?"
"What does it even mean to 'comprehend' them?"
The questions felt impossible.
And each one led to more.
Lost in thought, Kaelion found himself in a part of the city he rarely visited —
a forgotten quarter, filled with broken homes and tents barely held together.
The air smelled of mold and decay.
People without names lingered in shadows.
And just ahead stood a shack he recognized immediately.
"Of course… I've walked right into that lunatic's nest."
It was the home of an old woman known simply as the Seer.
A fraud, everyone said.
She claimed to hear voices, to see the future, to speak of fate.
Kaelion was just about to turn around — annoyed with himself —
when a voice spoke behind him, low and dry:
"In the forest, ten kilometers east of the city…
there, you'll find the answer you're looking for."
He froze.
Turning slowly, he saw her standing right behind him.
Bent. Silent. Still.
"What do you know about what I'm looking for?"
he asked coldly.
She smiled — not kindly, but distantly, as if distracted by something far away.
"I don't know anything."
"But they do."
She tapped a finger against her temple.
"The voices told me you would come today.
Told me to give you that message.
Why? I don't know.
You don't have to listen, boy…
But if I were you, I would."
Kaelion's gaze narrowed.
He wanted to walk away.
Ignore her.
Forget she ever spoke.
But something in her voice — or maybe something deeper — had already taken root in his mind.
And before he could say another word, she turned and disappeared into her shack.
—
For a while, he just stood there.
Then, without speaking, he walked toward the river.
The water was clear, almost unnaturally so — like a mirror for the sky.
He filled his canteen and crouched by the bank, watching the current pass.
"Is it really me?"
he wondered aloud.
"Did I truly awaken both?"
His reflection stared back at him.
The red in his eyes glowed faintly in the sunlight.
He didn't look like a street thief anymore.
He looked like something… more.
"Even if it's a trap… I have nothing to lose."
He returned to his hideout, took the last piece of bread he had saved, packed it, and left.
—
The road to the forest was long.
Kaelion had no mount, no map, no real supplies.
The heat scorched his skin, and the dry roads battered his feet.
He rested only under scattered trees, taking small sips of water, forcing himself onward.
He didn't allow more than a few minutes of rest at a time.
"If there's even a chance I'll find a clue there… I have to go."
After nearly three hours of walking, a dark line appeared in the distance.
A stretch of towering trees, thick foliage, and shadows that whispered of danger.
The forest.
He reached it breathless, sweat pouring down his face.
His muscles ached. His arms were scratched. His cloak was heavy with dust.
But he was smiling.
Something was waiting in there.
He sat beneath a stone at the forest's edge, letting the shade cool his skin.
Ten minutes passed.
Then he rose.
And stepped into the trees.