Autumn painted the leaves in fiery hues before surrendering to the icy grip of winter, which eventually softened into the gentle embrace of spring. Another spring painted the forest in vibrant hues, marking the third year since Elaraion Vance had become Prince Silak of the Tala ng Gubat.
Flip, flip, whff
Dayang Iskra smiled as she entered the tribe's library. Sunlight streamed through the woven bamboo walls, illuminating the dust motes dancing above Silak's head as he meticulously turned the brittle pages of an ancient book, his brow furrowed in concentration. "So, what fascinating secrets do the old scrolls hold for you today, little scholar?" she asked, her smile warm as she approached him.
It was an uncommon sight, a child of three so engrossed in the weathered books, scrolls, and inscribed stone tablets salvaged by the tribe over generations. While other children his age chased butterflies and climbed trees, Silak was drawn to the silent wisdom of the past. They had, over time, come to accept his unique inclination, whispering amongst themselves that the Goddess had surely blessed the young prince with exceptional intellect. He had walked early, his first words forming before his second birthday, and now, he absorbed knowledge like a seasoned scholar despite his tender age.
Lifting his gaze, bright with youthful earnestness, Silak said, "Mother, I wanted to learn more about cultivation so I can become a strong hunter too." A flicker of worry crossed his brow, a silent fear he couldn't quite articulate. 'If not,' he thought, 'I might really die early, never truly living in this world.'
Dayang Iskra gently placed a hand on his small shoulder. "Our tribe's collection holds fragments of a long history, knowledge painstakingly gathered by our ancestors. Deciphering it all in our current circumstances is a challenge, my son." She offered a gentle warning, hoping to temper his inevitable curiosity. She cherished his bright spirit and dreaded the thought of him being disheartened.
"For the past year," Silak frowned slightly, his little fingers still holding his place in the scroll, "all I've studied has been general knowledge. I haven't found anything about cultivation. Did those books and scrolls get lost somehow?" His heart gave a small, anxious thump at the prospect. He was perceptive for his age and understood the subtle hesitation in his mother's words.
A soft chuckle escaped Dayang Iskra's lips. "You silly boy," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement at his sharp mind. "That's not what I meant at all. Of course, we still have texts on cultivation. However, I cannot guarantee their completeness. What we possess right now primarily concerns the mortal realm."
"Cultivation," she continued, settling beside him on the low woven mat, "is a path without a known end. Even within our tribe, knowledge of its deeper mysteries is limited. The mortal realm cultivation, as we understand it, is merely the first step, preparing the physical body to withstand powers beyond the ordinary. Do you understand, Silak?"
"Yes, Mother," he replied, his brow furrowed in contemplation. 'Like holding water,' he mused, a sudden understanding dawning in his eyes. 'A cup can hold water, and so can a well, but the well's capacity is far greater.'
"Then," he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice, "is there a way for me to start early, Mother?" He was acutely aware of his small stature and young age.
Dayang Iskra paused, her gaze thoughtful. "Yes and no."
"Yes, we can begin your training early. Given the blessings bestowed upon you by the Goddess, it would be a waste to let your potential lie dormant. However, we will need to adapt certain practices and limit them to what is safe and suitable for your age and physical development."
Her voice softened, yet held a firm undertone. "I see your eagerness to grow stronger, my son, even if I don't fully understand the reason behind such a strong desire at your age. As your mother, I will guide and support you. But you must promise me to listen carefully, especially while you are still so young. Is that clear?" She had witnessed others stumble and fall in their pursuit of power, their ambition outstripping their wisdom. True strength, she knew, began with understanding one's limits.
A wide, innocent smile bloomed on Silak's face. "I promise to follow your every word, Mother." His eyes twinkled with unconcealed excitement. 'So, it wasn't just common knowledge tucked away in the library,' he realized. 'That explains why I couldn't find any of those cultivation books after a whole year of searching! It makes sense. Imagine if a child tried to follow a cultivation method meant for an adult!'
"Alright, now that you've given your word, I will speak with your father tonight. We will begin your training tomorrow." Dayang Iskra's heart swelled with affection at her son's obvious joy. His happiness was her happiness.
"I will leave you to your reading for now, but be sure to rest early. Our training will begin before the sun rises tomorrow," she reminded him gently before stepping out of the library.
"Yes, Mother. I will just finish a few more pages of this book." He nodded respectfully.
'Having such wonderful, loving, and supportive parents truly makes me feel like I can achieve anything,' Silak mused, a familiar warmth spreading through him as he compared his present life to the fragmented memories of his past. This constant comparison fueled his determination to grow stronger.
"Mother," he murmured into the quiet of the library, his small voice filled with a conviction beyond his years, "I am weak now, but I will become a powerful cultivator one day. I will bring glory to our tribe! And when that day comes, it will be my turn to protect you and support you."
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"Don't worry, little one. I will be with you every step of the way as well."
A mysterious woman, her form shimmering as if woven from moonlight, watched Silak's small figure within the library without his knowledge. Her gaze transcended the physical realm, and across heavens, shrouded in the majesty of moons and stars. To behold her was akin to gazing into the depths of a silent, starlit night, a beauty both breathtaking and profound.