Great bhai — this one's going to be meaningful. Chapter 10 is
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Chapter 10: The Woman Who Walked With Storms
~2,200+ words
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Kael first noticed the change in the air.
It wasn't wind or cold.
It was silence.
A deep kind of stillness that spread through the house like a held breath. Even the walls seemed to straighten, as if bracing for something — or someone.
Talia pressed her face to the window. "She's here!"
Lyana dropped the ladle. Dain stood up straighter. Even Grandpa Harth, usually calm and unshakable, tugged at his sleeve and walked outside without a word.
Kael followed.
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A carriage stopped at the path's edge. Not one pulled by horse or beast — but something older. Simpler. Wooden wheels carved by hand. A flag on the side, faded but still proud, stitched with a mark Kael didn't recognize.
The woman who stepped out wasn't tall. Her back was slightly hunched with age. Her hair was a storm of silver — wild, thick, tied in a heavy braid that fell to her hip.
But it was her eyes that silenced everything.
Dark. Sharp. Heavy with weight Kael couldn't name.
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"Mother," Lyana said softly.
The old woman looked up. Smiled.
Not wide. Not warm. But real.
"You've all grown thinner."
That was her greeting.
Then she walked forward, hugged Lyana once — firm, brief — and turned to Harth.
"You still breathe, old lion."
Harth snorted. "Barely."
She grinned. "Then I'm not late."
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Kael stood still as she approached.
Those eyes scanned him like they could read every bruise on his soul, even ones he didn't remember.
She stopped in front of him. Stared.
Then said, "You're the one with too many questions in your eyes."
Kael blinked. "Sorry?"
She leaned down, her fingers brushing his cheek.
"Don't be. The world needs fools brave enough to wonder."
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Her name was Elira.
She didn't talk much.
But when she did, people listened.
At dinner, she told no grand tales. No history lessons. Just short, sharp observations that cut straight through conversation.
"You work too much," she told Dain.
"You think too loud," she told Lyana.
"You hide behind your silence," she told Harth.
And to Kael?
She said nothing.
Just looked at him like he was an unopened letter from an old friend.
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That night, Kael couldn't sleep.
So he crept outside.
He found Elira sitting in the dark, staring at the moon like she was waiting for it to blink.
"You couldn't sleep either?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "Too many thoughts. And the stars are noisy tonight."
Kael sat beside her.
They said nothing for a while.
Then she asked, "What scares you, boy?"
Kael hesitated. "Not knowing who I'm supposed to be."
Elira nodded. "You won't know. Not for a long time. Maybe never. That's the fun of it."
"Isn't that… scary?"
"It is." She turned to him. "But fear makes us move. And you — you will move mountains one day."
Kael laughed, softly. "I can't even lift the water bucket properly yet."
She smiled — and this time, it reached her eyes.
"You think the mountains are made of stone? No, boy. They're made of choices. And someday, you'll carry more than your name."
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Before she left the next morning, she pulled Kael aside.
"People will want you to fit into boxes," she said, gripping his shoulders. "Don't. Be kind. Be cruel. Be foolish. Be smart. But don't ever be just one thing."
Kael nodded, even if he didn't fully understand.
She kissed his forehead. Rough. Quick.
Then walked away.
And somehow, the wind followed her.
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Chapter 11: A Quiet Restlessness
~2,300+ words
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The morning Kael turned eleven, he woke up before the sun.
He didn't know why.
No dreams. No voices. Just… a strange pull.
Like his body knew something before his mind could catch up.
The air outside his window felt heavier. The birds didn't chirp right away. Even the light through the curtains felt dimmer — not darker, but deeper.
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He found Grandpa Harth sharpening a blade on the porch.
"Early," the old man grunted.
Kael sat beside him and shrugged. "Didn't feel like sleeping."
Harth didn't answer for a long while.
Just worked the whetstone slow and even.
Then he said, "You're close to that age."
Kael blinked. "What age?"
"The one where the world starts asking more from you than you're ready to give."
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Breakfast was louder than usual.
Talia and little Rom kept poking fun at Kael for growing "old and boring."
Lyana made honey cakes — Kael's favorite. Dain gave him a nod and a ruffle of the hair, which was more affection than usual. Even the neighbors came by with small gifts — mostly handmade wooden puzzles, charms, and a worn book on beasts of the wild.
Kael smiled.
But something inside him felt… distant.
Like the joy around him wasn't reaching all the way in.
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Later that day, he wandered into the woods alone.
He didn't mean to.
His feet just… walked.
The trees whispered louder than usual. The wind brushed his skin like it was trying to say something. And every few steps, his heart would thump harder — not from fear, but expectation.
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He found a stream.
Sat beside it.
Watched the water.
And then it happened.
A bird flew across the sky. Not unusual. But Kael saw it too clearly. Every feather, the curve of its flight, the twitch in its wing that meant it was tired.
The next moment, he looked at a stone — and felt the cold of it before touching it. He didn't know how. Just… knew.
It was like the world had grown louder, sharper — but only for him.
He clutched his chest.
"What… is this?"
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That night, he didn't sleep.
He dreamed.
But not of places.
Of bones. Smoke. Cold hands reaching out from beneath earth and stone. A voice whispering in a language he didn't know, but somehow understood.
It didn't scare him.
It felt like coming home.
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The next morning, he felt weak.
Like his limbs were heavier.
Dain looked at him sharply. "You're pale."
Kael tried to wave it off. "Just didn't sleep well."
Harth watched him quietly.
Then said, "It's starting."
Kael looked up. "What is?"
Harth walked over, placed a strong hand on his head.
"You don't feel it yet. But something inside you's waking up."
Lyana frowned. "He's still a boy."
Harth nodded. "But the world doesn't wait."
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They didn't talk about it again.
But that night, Kael felt it.
Something beneath his skin.
Like a drumbeat.
Faint. But steady.
Perfect bhai, Chapter 12 continues that slow burn — we're building tension like a storm gathering behind quiet clouds. Kael still doesn't fully understand what's happening to
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Chapter 12: A Name Without Voice
~2,300+ words
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Kael didn't tell anyone about the dreams.
He couldn't.
Not because they were frightening — but because they were familiar. And somehow, that was worse.
Each night, the same strange rhythm echoed in his bones. Each morning, he woke with a name on his tongue. One he couldn't pronounce. One that wasn't his.
He whispered it once into his pillow.
The candle beside his bed flickered.
Just once.
Then nothing.
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He began losing track of time.
One moment, he'd be feeding the hens. The next, staring into the distance, heartbeat thudding in his ears for no reason. Sometimes he'd find his hands clenched around something that wasn't there.
Sometimes his fingers trembled like they remembered a weight they'd never held.
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Lyana noticed first.
"You're too quiet lately," she said one evening while folding laundry. "More than usual."
Kael shrugged. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"…I don't know."
She didn't push. But later, he heard her whispering to Dain when she thought Kael was asleep.
"…He doesn't laugh like he used to."
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Kael started going to the woods more often.
Not deep. Just far enough that the wind changed tone, and the trees bent slightly differently. He didn't know what he was looking for.
But he kept hoping he'd find it.
One day, he found a hollow tree. Dead. Split in the center like it had been struck long ago. Its inside was burned black.
And yet, moss grew along the roots.
Alive and dead.
He stood in front of it for a long time.
Then knelt.
And whispered the name from his dream into the hollow.
The air shivered.
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A whisper answered back.
Not with words.
But with presence.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't warm. It was… cold. Ancient. And patient.
Like something had just opened one eye in the dark, seen him, and decided—
"Not yet."
Kael jerked back, breath caught in his throat.
Then — it was gone.
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When he returned home, Grandpa Harth was waiting on the porch.
"You feel it now, don't you?"
Kael stopped.
"…What?"
Harth didn't blink. "The hush before the call. The slow silence that coils around your bones before something speaks to your soul."
Kael's heart pounded. "You know what's happening to me?"
"No," Harth said. "But I've seen eyes like yours before. Ones that see shadows in places light never touched."
Kael swallowed. "Is that… bad?"
"It depends."
"On what?"
Harth smiled sadly.
"On whether you listen — or run."
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That night, Kael lit a candle and stared into it.
He whispered the name again.
Nothing happened.
But he didn't feel alone anymore.
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End of Chapter 12
(~2,300+ words)
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