I woke and for a few seconds just lay there, staring at the dim wooden ceiling above me. Then I noticed something strange about this hut.

  A silence.

  In Blackwater, silence was suspicious. But here it felt… different. Like the world was holding its breath.

  I sat up slowly. My back still hurt, but not like yesterday. The wounds had dried, though the ache still faithfully accompanied every movement. Then I glanced around.

  No Master. No fire in the hearth. Just cold ash and the remains of charred wood. The wooden table in the corner—empty. No bread. No signs of life.

  My stomach growled loudly. The sound shattered the silence, like a stone dropped into an empty well.

  I sat on the threshold of that low door, waiting. Maybe Master was out. Maybe he'd return with food. Maybe this was just another test.

  Time passed quickly. The sun crawled toward midday, but the fog still clung stubbornly to the trees. The cold air bit my skin. My stomach churned, like it was being wrung from inside.

  No one came.

  I looked outside, at the expanse of silent spruce forest before me. In the distance, between the tree trunks and bushes, I saw strange stones. They looked like small menhirs, only about knee-high to an adult, or even shorter. Some stood alone, some in clusters. I didn't know what they were. But something about their arrangement made me uneasy. Strange symbols that rippled faintly.

  I ignored them. My stomach was more important.

  In Blackwater, I survived because I knew how to steal. Here, I didn't even know what was edible. But that didn't mean I didn't know how to survive. My father taught me before he died.

  'If you're hungry, find something to eat, even if you have to steal. If you're afraid, try to overcome your fear. Never wait—walk, even if it's just one step. This world will ignore you. Because you were never meant for this world.'

  I stood, trying to move my leaden legs. My back throbbed with every movement. But I walked.

  My eyes began to work—not to see the view, but to search. This, I thought, was where my eyes were useful. Not for seeing beautiful things. But for surviving and finding something.

  On the damp ground near the bushes, I found it. Tracks. Small, with four toes, tiny claws. Still fresh. I bent down, touching the ground beside the track. Damp, but not wet, hidden in the lengthening shadows of the spruces.

  I followed the tracks.

  Every step felt like torture. My back screamed. My thighs trembled. But I kept walking. Among the trees, I saw movement. Brown and furry. A rabbit.

  It was eating grass, its ears twitching, unaware I was here.

  I lowered myself. Held my breath. One step. Two steps. I could hear my own heart beating too loudly. I could see the fine fur on its back moving in the wind. I could see its restless feet, as if it knew when it would have to leap.

  I pounced.

  Failed.

  The rabbit darted left. Because just as I was about to spring, my head suddenly throbbed with pain, making me miss. I fell flat on my face, chest hitting the ground. The wounds on my back burned like I'd been doused with salt water. I curled up there, catching my breath, holding back my rage.

  Stupid. I was too weak.

  But I didn't give up. I got up again. Warm blood seeped from beneath the bandages on my back. But I kept walking. Following those tracks again. This time slower. More careful.

  Some time later.

  I found it near the roots of a fallen tree. It was hiding behind a bush, thinking I wouldn't see it. But my eyes saw. My eyes always saw.

  This time I didn't pounce. I crawled. Slowly. Inch by inch. My hands felt the ground, sensing every tiny twig before touching it. I heard the rabbit's breath—fast, scared. But it hadn't run. It didn't see me. It didn't smell me. It just trembled, relying on stillness as its shield.

  One more inch. One more inch.

  With a swift movement, I caught it off guard. Its fur was warm. Its small body trembled violently. I could feel its heart racing in my grip. Its eyes—black, round, full of fear—stared at me.

  For a moment, I stopped.

  It was afraid. Just like I used to be.

  But my stomach screamed. The wounds on my back throbbed. And I remembered. In this world, only the strong survive and the weak die.

  Without a second thought, I twisted its neck.

  Crack!

  That small body went limp. Its warmth still lingered in my hands, but there was no more trembling. No more breath. Just meat.

  I sat on the ground, holding the rabbit in my hands. My breath came in ragged gasps. My back pulsed with pain. But in my hands, there was food.

  I had done it.

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  But why did my chest feel so tight?

  I stared at the dead rabbit. Its eyes were still open, but empty. Its fur was still warm. Minutes ago it was alive, eating grass, unaware that beyond the bush, eyes were watching.

  Just like me.

  I bit my lip. Swallowed something that stuck in my throat.

  Then I stood on shaky legs. I walked back to the hut, through the thinning fog. Rabbit blood dripped along the way, leaving a red trail on the moss. I passed those strange stones again. They were still silent, as if watching.

  And in the distance, from the hut's chimney, smoke rose.

  The hearth was lit.

  I clutched the rabbit tightly. Its body was already cold.

  As I approached the door, warm air greeted me. I entered. Master stood by the hearth, the fire already blazing warmly. But there was no roasted meat. Nothing on the stone. Just the fire, and Master staring at me.

  He looked at the rabbit in my hands. Then at the blood on my clothes. Then at my pale face.

  He said nothing. Just silence.

  I didn't want to say anything either. I just stood in the doorway, holding that rabbit, waiting for something—a reprimand, praise, anything.

  Nothing.

  'Sit,' he said finally. His voice was flat, not a command, just… a statement.

  I sat on the bench by the fire. The rabbit was still in my hands. I didn't know what to do.

  Master sat across from me. His grey eyes looked at me, then at the rabbit, then back at me. He saw my hesitation.

  'You see that animal?'

  His voice was calm. I nodded.

  'That's what human life is like.'

  He paused for a moment, letting his words settle in the air.

  'Even if you do no evil, death will still come for you. Only a matter of time. Only a matter of who's faster, who's stronger, who's hungrier.'

  He looked at me.

  'If you're weak, you'll be that rabbit.'

  I swallowed. My hands were still in my lap, gripping the rabbit.

  He was right. In Blackwater, I'd nearly died countless times.

  But this rabbit was different… it died by my hand. I killed it and twisted its neck. I felt its body tremble and then go limp.

  Suddenly, Master stood. He walked over, and without a word, took the rabbit from my hands. He began skinning it with quick, skilled movements—like he'd done it a thousand times before.

  I could only sit silently, watching the man.

  An hour later, the rabbit meat was cooked over the fire. The smell of smoke and meat filled the room. My stomach screamed. But when Master placed the meat before me, I just sat there, staring at it.

  I killed it. And now I had to eat it to survive.

  My hand reached out and tore off a piece. The meat was hot and juicy.

  I put it in my mouth.

  It tasted good—so good, I'd forgotten the last time I'd eaten roasted meat until my eyes felt hot.

  I bit again, again, and again.

  I ate ravenously, like an animal, like someone who hadn't eaten for days. Grease ran down my chin, but I didn't care, I just wanted to eat. Chew. Swallow and take more.

  But amidst it all, something lodged in my chest. Something hot and raw, like an invisible wound. Something that whispered… It was alive, and you killed it. You're eating it. But you're alive.

  My eyes burned. My throat tightened. But no tears fell. Maybe they were all gone. Maybe it was too deep to surface.

  I kept eating. Didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

  When I finished, small bones lay scattered before me. I stared at them, breathless. My stomach was full, but my chest felt empty.

  Master just watched in silence.

  Then he stood and walked to the door. But before leaving, he stopped.

  'Out there, there are stones. You passed them earlier.'

  I turned.

  'That's the boundary. From now on, you are not to step beyond those stones.'

  That was the first rule he ever gave me.

  He went out, the door closing softly behind him.

  I remained sitting, staring at the dying fire—then at the bones, and at my still-trembling hands.

  I didn't understand this man. But for the first time, I felt… utterly confused.

  He was the first to give me a rule without a whip.

  That night, I spent just brooding. I didn't know where Master had gone after the door closed. I tried to sleep, my feelings in turmoil. Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow it would all begin.

  The next morning, the lessons would start as he'd said. Master took me deep into the forest. We passed those boundary marker stones, and I remembered exactly where they were. Only then did I realise the stones had simple face-like carvings, their expressions making me uneasy. We walked deeper into a place I'd never been.

  The trees here were older, larger. Fog still lingered between the trunks, making everything look grey and damp. We stopped near a flat stone. Its edges were carved with strange symbols—circles, curved lines, shapes I didn't recognise.

  'Sit here,' said Master.

  I sat. The stone was cold. Dew seeped through the cloth.

  'Close your eyes. And be still.'

  'What am I supposed to do?'

  'Nothing. Just be still. And listen.'

  I closed my eyes.

  At first, there was only the wind. Then, slowly, other sounds began to emerge. Leaves rustling. Birds singing in the distance. My own heartbeat, slow and heavy.

  But the longer I sat still, the more my mind leapt uncontrollably. Leon, Father, the whip. And that rabbit. They all came in waves, like an endless tide.

  My breath began to quicken.

  'You're not still.' Master's voice cut through the silence. 'Your breathing is noisy. Calm it.'

  I took a long breath. Held it, and released it slowly. But the more I tried to be calm, the more something in my chest writhed. And at the edge of my vision, even with my eyes closed—those ripples began to appear. Subtle movements that shouldn't be there. Like the world vibrating beneath my eyelids.

  An hour might have passed. Or just a few minutes—I couldn't tell anymore.

  'I'm cold,' I said finally.

  Master nodded. As if that was the answer he'd been waiting for.

  'Cold is a sensation,' he said softly. 'Sound is a sensation. Pain is a sensation. They are all information. You must learn to listen to them, not be enslaved by them.'

  Then he stood, walking back toward the hut.

  'Tomorrow you'll sit longer.'

  In my mind, I wanted to curse him, but I was truly too tired to say anything, and ended up trailing behind him.

  The following days were filled only with cold stone and breaths that were never calm enough. The ripples didn't disappear. They only learned to hide.

  Master spoke less and less. He just sat on his stone, watching, as if recording something in the small book stored in his head.

  My eyes—those ripples never truly vanished. In quiet moments, they subsided. But when I was tired, hungry, or tense, the world would vibrate again. Small movements at the forest's edge were caught too clearly. A falling leaf. A crawling caterpillar. Far away, a squirrel leaping—and for a moment, I could see its trajectory before it moved.

  I didn't tell Master. But I knew he saw. He always saw.

  'Arghh!'

  The dizziness came more often now, more frequent than before. It used to be occasional, when I focused too hard or was too afraid. Now it came uninvited, stabbing from within, making me want to smash my head against the stone.

  I wanted to tell Master. But every time I looked at him, the words died in my throat.

  There was something in his eyes—not a threat, but… observation. Like he was waiting for something. Calculating something. And I didn't know if I wanted to be part of his calculations.

  That morning, before the sun fully pierced the forest canopy, he called me to the back of the hut.

  There was a small clearing there. Wooden training dummies. Worn-out weapons. But Master didn't point to them. He stood at the forest's edge, staring into the vast expanse of trees stretching beneath the fog.

  Strange. Every morning he did this. Standing like a statue, staring at the forest. For someone as cruel as him, this habit felt… wrong.

  But today, for the first time, I saw something different in his eyes. That look. I'd seen it before. On my father's face, when he remembered my mother.

  A look that shouldn't exist on the face of someone like him.

  He turned. His eyes met mine. My chest jolted.

  He approached. In his hand was a small bottle containing a greenish liquid. Something shimmered inside it.

  'Drink.'

  'What is it?'

  'Help.'

  'Help with what?'

  He looked at me. 'You often get dizzy. This will ease it, temporarily.'

  I held the bottle. Cold. I remembered the traders in Blackwater giving similar potions to unruly guards. They died convulsing within seconds.

  But I also remembered his words. Those who want to kill you would be more honest.

  I had no choice. I never had a choice.

  I drank.

  The liquid was cold. Not ordinary cold. A cold that spread quickly, like ice water flowing through my veins.

  I convulsed.

  Then the world exploded.

  Sound. All sounds came at once. Leaves rustling like a thousand knives. Insects on the ground—I could hear their feet, one by one, piercing the soil. Far away, beneath dry leaves, a worm crawled. I heard its soft body pressing against the earth.

  I fell. My knees hit the ground. But there was no pain. Only sound. Too much sound.

  I covered my ears, but it was useless. The sound came from within.

  Sunlight shattered into a million fragments. Each fragment danced before my eyes, too fast, too sharp. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could. But behind my eyelids, the ripples grew even wilder. They were no longer subtle movements. They were a storm.

  And within that storm, something rose.

  I felt the pulse of the earth. I felt the creeping roots of trees. I felt the hot trails of animals that had passed an hour ago.

  And I didn't want it to stop.

  I opened my eyes.

  Master stood before me. His face was calm. And on his lips—faint, but undeniably there—was a smile.

  I wanted to hate him. But that rage drowned in the flood of sensations. Blood flowed from my nose and eyes, and from my ears. I collapsed, helpless… as if I could no longer control my own body.

  I crawled, trying to reach his feet. Seeking purchase. Seeking something real.

  Then memories came.

  Leon with his empty eyes staring at me.

  Father and the coldness of his body as I held him.

  That rabbit and the warmth of its body as I twisted its neck.

  Everything came at once, wave after wave. Smashing and tearing apart the contents of my head.

  And Master just stood there, silent.

  I was still crawling. Still trying to reach him. B

  ut my body could no longer be reasoned with. All that remained were my eyes, still staring, and my consciousness, slowly fading.

  Sprawled on the ground, amid the rank smell of blood seeping from my ears. My eyes grew heavy, my vision blurring.

  I saw Master still there. Silent. Watching.

  Then—

  Darkness.