The forest was not quiet.
Even at night, the wind whispered through the leaves like a living breath. Insects chirped, small animals rustled in the underbrush, and the distant howl of wolves sent a cold shiver down Kahel's spine.
On the first day, Kahel walked. The ember in his chest pulsed faintly, but it gave him no answers. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, a dull ache that grew sharper as the hours passed. His body ached from the days of training in the cave, and every step sent a jolt through his sore muscles.
He tried to find food, but the forest gave nothing easily. The berries he found were bitter and left his mouth dry. His hands trembled as he tried to catch a rabbit, but the creature darted away, faster than his sluggish reflexes.
By nightfall, exhaustion settled over him like a heavy blanket. He lay against the roots of a large tree, arms wrapped around his chest for warmth, shivering in the cold. His stomach twisted with hunger, and his throat burned with thirst.
The ember pulsed in his chest, steady but distant.
"This is nothing," Kahel whispered, his breath misting in the dark. "I can handle this."
But he couldn't ignore the way his hands trembled or how his mind drifted, fogged by fatigue.
On the second day, he woke sore and stiff. His clothes clung to his skin, damp with sweat and dew. His lips were cracked, and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth.
The hunger sharpened, a gnawing, twisting pain that left him dizzy. His steps grew slower, and his legs felt like stone.
He found a small stream and drank greedily, water spilling down his chin. The relief was brief. His stomach cramped, hollow and empty.
When he tried to draw on the ember, it flared faintly, but it was like trying to hold smoke. He couldn't control it. Couldn't make it help him. The energy sat just out of reach, warm but distant, as if waiting for something.
The sun beat down, and the forest seemed to press in from all sides. The trees loomed tall, their branches clawing at the sky. The sounds of animals grew louder, sharper, more menacing.
By the end of the second day, Kahel could barely stand. His vision blurred, and each step felt like dragging himself through mud. He stumbled over roots, his knees scraping against the earth, the scent of damp moss and rotting leaves filling his nose.
His stomach twisted in agony, and he doubled over, gasping. His breath came in ragged pulls, and for a moment, he felt the ember pulse harder, a sharp heat in his chest.
But it gave him no strength. Only a reminder of what he lacked.
Kahel curled up beneath a tree, arms wrapped around his body, the cold seeping into his bones. His thoughts drifted, blurred by exhaustion.
He thought of his mother.
Her face blurred, but he could hear her voice, soft and warm, calling his name.
He thought of Velka, alone in the cave, and the quiet promise he had made to protect the small fox.
He thought of Thalen's voice, cold and steady, warning him that power without control was a curse.
Kahel's hands clenched into fists. His nails bit into his palms, and the ember pulsed once, faint but insistent.
"I won't die here," he whispered, though his voice was weak.
He forced himself to stand. His legs shook, his vision swam, but he stood.
The forest was vast, dark, and unforgiving, but Kahel's breath came steady, even if shallow. His body trembled, but the ember pulsed in his chest, a quiet reminder that he had more to give.
The survival test had only just begun, and already he felt the weight of it pressing down on him, grinding him to the bone.
But he would not break.
Not yet.