The distant roar echoed, passing through the curtain of water, ricocheting off the stone walls, and dissolving into the cave. It was not the sound of a lone beast, but the collective scream of a world awakening in the wrath of the night. Any fragile sense of safety Aidan had just gained vanished like smoke. He shivered involuntarily, the chill coming not just from the damp air, but seeping from deep within his marrow.
If Kaelen Vance had been a solid rock before, then as night truly fell, he seemed to transform into a honed weapon. The relative ease in his posture disappeared, replaced by an intense focus that tensed every muscle. His assessing gaze turned cold and vigilant, constantly scanning the waterfall-shrouded entrance.
"Your first lesson begins now, Awakened," Kaelen said, his voice low and clear, cutting through the heavy silence. "The lesson of the night."
He didn't wait for Aidan's reply. He moved methodically. First, he tended to the small fire, adding a log of dark, dry wood he called "Ironwood." "It burns slow and gives off a lot of heat," he explained succinctly. "More importantly, its smoke has a smell that most night hunters dislike."
Next, Kaelen went to the entrance. He didn't rely solely on the waterfall for concealment. Aidan noticed him carefully wedging a few large rocks into the gaps on the side, creating a makeshift but sturdy wall, leaving only a small slit just wide enough to observe. Every action was calculated, with no wasted movement. This was a ritual repeated for hundreds, perhaps thousands of nights, a dance of survival etched into his very instincts.
"Listen," Kaelen turned back, the flickering firelight dancing across his long scar, making his rugged face look even more severe. "At night in the Whispering Labyrinth, your ears and eyes are more important than any weapon. Close your eyes. Listen. What do you hear besides the waterfall?"
Aidan complied. He tried to filter out the roar of the cascading water. At first, he heard nothing. But gradually, as he focused, another world of sound opened up. The whistle of wind through the rock crevices high above. The faint scrabbling of some small creatures in the earth. And... a low, almost imperceptible hum that seemed to come from all directions.
"A humming sound," Aidan said.
"Good," Kaelen nodded. "That's the sound of the air. During the day, it's still. At night, it's 'alive'. It carries information. Now, listen to that roar from before. What do you think it was?"
"A large animal... hungry?" Aidan guessed.
"Too shallow," Kaelen corrected him instantly. "That was the roar of a Ground-Shaker. It's large, yes. But that roar wasn't a hunting cry. It was a territorial declaration. It's telling the whole forest 'this is my land'. It's at least two valleys to the east of us. Tonight, it is not our concern. Do you understand? Every sound tells a story. You must learn to read them."
The lesson was cut short abruptly.
All the sounds of the forest suddenly fell silent. The wind, the insects, the mysterious humming... everything vanished. All that remained was the steady sound of the waterfall, but now it was no longer a concealing curtain but a deafening noise in the deathly silence.
Aidan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. This silence was more terrifying than any roar.
Kaelen said nothing. He signaled for Aidan to be quiet, then slowly pressed his ear against the rock wall. His eyes closed, his face a mask of pure concentration. Time passed in tense anticipation. Aidan held his breath, his heart pounding so hard he was afraid it would make a sound.
Then he heard it. A scrape. Very light. Not on stone, but on wood. Like a finger lightly scratching the bark of a tree just outside. Then another, in a different spot.
"They're here," Kaelen whispered, his voice almost merging with the water's sound. He moved away from the wall, his eyes as cold as ice. "The Weepers."
"The Weepers?" Aidan asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling.
"Ghosts of the forest. They don't hunt with strength, but with fear and cunning. They move in the shadows, silent as falling leaves. They can mimic sounds—a baby bird, a wounded rabbit... and even the crying of a child. That's how they got their name. Many fools have followed that cry and never returned."
As Kaelen spoke, Aidan stared at the entrance. The light from the fire projected strange, dancing shapes onto the curtain of water. And for a moment, he swore he saw a shadow flit past, a gaunt, elongated shape, darker than the night itself, moving at the edge of the light. It vanished so quickly he wondered if he had imagined it.
"Your mission tonight is simple, but also the most important," Kaelen said, placing a hand on Aidan's shoulder. The weight of his calloused hand gave him a bit of calm. "Tend the fire. Don't let it weaken, not even for a second. The light and heat of the Ironwood are our only shield. The Weepers fear strong light. Understood?"
Aidan nodded, his throat dry.
He sat by the fire, hugging the spare Ironwood log. The responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. This fire wasn't just a source of light and warmth; it was the boundary between life and death.
The psychological assault began.
From outside, strange sounds began to drift in. First came the whispers, indistinct, like the wind rustling leaves but carrying a clear malice. Then the scraping, closer this time, right on the rock face above the cave. Occasionally, a faint sob would rise, a sound so heart-wrenching it made one instinctively want to find and comfort its source. Aidan had to remind himself it was just a trap.
He tried to focus on the fire, but his mind was restless. Every dancing shadow on the cave wall made him jump. The pain in his side seemed to throb with every beat of his heart. Fear was a cold poison, slowly seeping into him, threatening to paralyze his will.
In that state of extreme tension, the strange sensation returned.
It wasn't like before. No combat knowledge flashed in his mind. Instead, Aidan's awareness seemed to expand beyond his normal senses. He didn't "hear" or "see" them, but he "felt" them.
He felt a cold, empty presence to the left of the waterfall. Not one, but two. They were standing still, hidden, their patience like that of a spider waiting for prey. And there was another presence, above, moving slowly on the clifftop. It was searching for another way in, a fissure from above.
"Three of them," Aidan suddenly whispered, surprised himself at the certainty in his own voice.
Kaelen, who had been standing motionless as a statue near the entrance, turned to look at him, a flicker of astonishment in his eyes. "What did you say?"
"There are three," Aidan repeated, his eyes still fixed on the fire but his mind "seeing" what was outside. "Two on the left of the waterfall. One is on the summit, looking for a way down."
Kaelen didn't ask how Aidan knew. In this world, such questions were less important than results. He just nodded slowly, his vigilance ratcheting up another notch. He glanced up at the cave ceiling, as if calculating the trajectory of the invisible enemy. The confirmation from Aidan, someone who couldn't see anything, had reinforced his own experience.
Suddenly, a gaunt, black hand with fingers as long and sharp as daggers reached through the curtain of water, trying to grip the stone ledge of the entrance. It appeared for only a fraction of a second before the strong light from the fire made it retract instantly with a faint hiss, like compressed air being released.
Aidan jumped, his heart stopping for a beat. He hastily threw another small log into the fire, making it flare up brightly.
That was the only direct attack of the night. The rest was a war of the mind. The crying, the whispers, the flitting shadows... they lasted for hours, gnawing at Aidan's sanity. He had to fight against sleep, against exhaustion, and against the fear that rose ceaselessly from the depths of his being. Beside him, Kaelen remained still, a silent and steadfast guardian.
Finally, just as Aidan felt he couldn't take it anymore, a change occurred.
The deathly silence outside began to break. A faint bird's cry echoed from the distance. Then the first grey sliver of dawn snaked through the high leaves, casting a new light on the curtain of water, banishing some of the darkness.
And as suddenly as they had arrived, the presence of the Weepers vanished. The cold, empty feeling dissipated, returning the forest to its normal sounds. The night was over.
Aidan let out a long breath, his entire body limp as if he had just been through a real battle. He was exhausted, but he had survived. He had fulfilled his duty.
Kaelen finally moved. He relaxed his shoulders, the tension on his face easing. He turned to look at Aidan, and for the first time, Aidan saw a flicker of genuine approval in the man's sharp eyes.
"You did well," Kaelen said. "You didn't panic. You listened. And you... 'saw' them. That Spark of yours, it's nothing trivial, Aidan Cross."
He went to his supply bag, took out a piece of dried meat and a waterskin, and handed them to Aidan. "Eat. Get your strength back. Today's lesson was about defense. About patience and discipline."
Aidan took the food, his hands still trembling. He ate ravenously, feeling his strength gradually return.
"Tomorrow," Kaelen continued, his gaze looking out at the brightening forest. "We go hunting. And I will show you why that peculiar 'sight' of yours, if honed, is more valuable than any sword or spear in this godforsaken place."
The promise of a new, challenging day hung in the air. But this time, Aidan didn't just feel fear. He also felt a glimmer of hope. He was no longer completely lost. He had a purpose, a lesson to learn, and a mysterious ability waiting to be discovered. His journey had only just truly begun.