NOVEL NEXT Chapter 13: Forgotten Spark
I wiped the sweat off his brow as I finished my training routine for the day. My muscles ached pleasantly, a sign that the effort was paying off. In the distance, Sylva sat cross-legged on a mossy rock, her green hair shimmering like leaves in sunlight. She seemed lost in thought, her gaze soft and distant.
I smirked. Perfect opportunity.
Quietly, I picked up a small pebble and hurled it gently toward her, aiming for the ground near her feet. The pebble bounced off the moss with a faint thud.
Sylva flinched slightly, blinking out of her reverie. "Greg…" she said, her tone warning but not unkind.
"What? It wasn't me," I replied innocently, shrugging as I leaned against a tree.
Her eyes narrowed playfully, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward. "You're a terrible liar, you know."
I grinned. "Maybe, but you were so zoned out, I couldn't resist. What were you thinking about? Planning my untimely demise for the pebble, or something deeper?"
Sylva sighed, though there was no annoyance in her expression. She glanced toward the forest canopy, her green eyes reflecting the light. "I was… reminiscing."
"About what?" I asked, genuinely curious now.
She hesitated for a moment, as though weighing her words. "You, actually. Or rather, the many versions of you I've known."
I blinked. "That's… vague and a little ominous. Care to elaborate?"
Sylva chuckled softly. "You've lived many lives, Greg, though you don't remember them all. In one of them, you were a simple farmer. Kind, hardworking, with a love for growing things. One day, you found a sapling in the woods different from any you'd seen before. You brought it home, cared for it, nurtured it." She smiled wistfully. "That sapling was me."
My mouth fell open slowly. "Wait. You're telling me I planted you? Like, literally?"
Sylva laughed, the sound like the rustle of leaves in the breeze. "Yes, literally. It was your care that allowed me to gain my consciousness, to grow into what I am now. But you didn't know back then and just think that I'm just an ordinary sapling."
I rubbed the back of my neck, my face flushing slightly. "Well, I've always had a green thumb, I guess…"
Sylva shook her head, her laughter subsiding. "You didn't just care for me like a plant, Greg. You talked to me, told me about your dreams, your hopes, even your silly little fears. I grew to understand the world through you."
I slowly grinned and faltered, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "That's… kind of incredible. And a little overwhelming. No wonder you're always looking out for me."
Sylva tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Always? As far as I recall, I'm the one cleaning up after your messes."
I raised my hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't ask to be thrown into this crazy life. And besides, I didn't see you complaining when I saved you from that mutant wolf the other day."
She smirked. "Fair point. Though I'm still debating whether it was bravery or recklessness."
We both laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the clearing.
"So," I said after a moment, crossing my arms, "you were daydreaming about my glorious farming skills and how you owe your existence to me. Got it. But what brought that up?"
Sylva hesitated again, her gaze softening. "I suppose… it's because I finally found you. After so many lives, so many searches, you're here. The same stubborn, compassionate, and infuriating soul I've always known. And it makes me… happy."
I scratched the back of my head, unsure how to respond to such an earnest confession. "Well, you've got a weird way of showing it," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, watching me train while you daydream? Not exactly cheering me on, Sylva."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Would you like me to shower you with praise, Greg the Mighty Warrior?"
I grinned. "A little enthusiasm wouldn't hurt."
Sylva stood and gave an exaggerated bow, her green hair cascading like a waterfall. "Oh, great and valiant Greg, slayer of trees, conqueror of shadows, and occasional pebble-thrower. Truly, the world trembles at your feet."
Sylva straightened, her laughter joining mine. For a moment, the forest around them seemed to hum with their shared joy, the bond between them growing deeper with every word, every laugh.
"Thanks, Sylva," I said softly, my tone suddenly became serious.
"For what?" she asked, tilting her head.
"For sticking around. For putting up with me. For… everything."
Her expression softened, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Always, Greg."
The warmth of her touch lingered as they stood there, the forest around them alive with quiet magic.
The days fell into a comfortable rhythm. Each morning, I would rise early, often to the soft chirping of birds and the golden light filtering through the dense canopy. Sylva's cabin, nestled in the heart of the forest, became my temporary haven. I would step outside to find Sylva tending to her plants or quietly observing the wildlife, her connection to the forest evident in every graceful movement.
"Morning," I greeted her, my voice is still groggy.
Sylva would glance at me, a teasing smile on her lips. "Morning. You look like you wrestled a bear in your sleep."
"Hey, it's all part of the training," I'd retort, stretching my arms above my head.
Once breakfast usually a mix of foraged fruits and Sylva's herbal concoctions was done, I would head to the clearing to train. M swordsmanship grew sharper each day, and I begun incorporating mana control into my routines, a skill that was as exhilarating as it was exhausting.
Sylva often watched me from a distance, occasionally offering pointers. "Your grip's too tight," she'd call out, or, "Stop overthinking. Trust your instincts."
"You know, for someone who's never held a sword, you sure have a lot of advice," I would grumble, wiping sweat from my brow.
She'd smirk. "Wisdom isn't bound by experience with weapons, Greg. It's about observation. And you're painfully obvious."
Their banter became a staple of his training, as vital as the exercises themselves. It was during those moments, surrounded by the forest's tranquility and Sylva's unyielding presence, that I felt a sense of peace I hadn't known was missing.
After an especially grueling session, I collapsed onto the cool grass, staring up at the sky. My body was heavy with exhaustion, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Sylva approached, a wooden cup of cool water in her hand.
"You overdid it again," she chided, kneeling beside me.
I took the cup gratefully, gulping it down. "Can't get stronger if I don't push myself."
"And you can't get stronger if you push yourself into the grave," she countered, a hint of worry in her tone.
I chuckled weakly. "Fair point."
As the days passed, our bond deepened. Sylva began sharing more about herself, about her connection to the forest and the countless lives she had observed.
"One thing I've always admired about you," she said one evening, as we sat by a small fire outside the cabin, "is your determination. No matter what life throws at you, you keep going."
I poked at the fire with a stick, a thoughtful expression on my face. "Yeah, well, when life keeps throwing curveballs, you either dodge or get hit."
Sylva smiled softly. "But you don't just dodge. You fight back. That's rare."
I looked at her, the firelight dancing in her emerald eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know. For someone who was literally a sapling not too long ago."
She laughed, the sound like the rustling of leaves in a breeze. "Careful, or I'll remind you just how stubborn saplings can be."
One particularly intense training session left me so drained that I barely made it back to the cabin. As I staggered through the door, my vision blurred, and the world tilted dangerously.
"Greg!" Sylva's voice was the last thing I heard before darkness claimed me.
When I woke, I was lying on a soft bed of moss and leaves, the soothing scent of herbs filling the air. The cabin felt different, more vibrant, as if the very essence of the forest pulsed within its walls.
Sylva sat nearby, grinding something in a stone bowl. When she noticed me stirring, relief washed over her face. "You're awake. You had me worried."
I groaned, sitting up slowly. "What happened?"
"You pushed yourself too far," she said, handing me a steaming cup of tea. "Drink this. It'll help."
I sipped the tea, grimacing at its bitter taste. "Thanks. Sorry for the trouble."
Sylva waved him off. "Trouble would be finding you face-down in the clearing again. You're staying here until you're fully recovered."
I nodded, too tired to argue. The next few days were a blur of rest, herbal treatments, and quiet moments with Sylva. She fussed over me with a stern kindness that reminded me of an old friend.
"You're more stubborn than a tree," she muttered one evening as she adjusted the bandage on my arm.
I smirked. "You'd know, wouldn't you?"
Sylva rolled her eyes but didn't hide her smile.
It was during one of these restful nights that I found myself immersed in a vivid dream. I stood in the shoes of another life this time, that of a young mage, newly inducted into a grand magic academy. The towering spires of the institution stretched toward the heavens, their glowing runes pulsating with the promise of untold knowledge.
But for this mage, the academy was not a place of camaraderie or shared passion. He was a lone figure in a sea of bustling students, his presence ignored or dismissed by most.
The mage was not talented by any measure. His spells fizzled more often than they succeeded, and his mana control was shaky at best. Among the nobles and commoners who thrived in the academy's structured teachings, he was an anomaly not for his brilliance, but for his dogged persistence.
Despite the sneers and cold shoulders of his peers, he remained steadfast. The rejection only fueled his desire to uncover the deeper truths of magic, truths that lay beyond the superficial displays of power that seemed to fascinate everyone else. While others competed in flashy spell duels and sought favor from influential mentors, he spent hours poring over ancient tomes in the library's dusty corners, searching for the origins of mana itself.
"Why stop at casting fireballs and summoning barriers?" he once muttered to himself, his ink-stained fingers flipping through a brittle page. "I want to know why magic exists. What lies behind the veil?"
It was an obsession, a passion that burned brighter with every passing day. The ridicule he faced no longer stung as it once had; instead, it became a backdrop to his unwavering pursuit. In the dream, the mage's life unfolded like a tapestry, each moment etched with determination and loneliness.
As my dream delved deeper into the mysteries of mana, the the me of the present world was undergoing a transformation of my own. My body thrummed with energy, a strange and potent shift in the qualities of his mana.
The air in Sylva's cabin felt heavier, charged with an unseen force. Even Sylva, attuned as she was to the natural world, paused in her evening routines to glance toward Greg's resting form.
"It's starting," she murmured to herself, a mix of wonder and trepidation in her voice.
I stirred, my breath hitching as the dream shifted. I felt the young mage's frustration, the aching loneliness, but also the quiet triumph in every small discovery. The mage's passion resonated deeply with me, as though this life was not just a distant memory but a part of my very soul.
When I finally awoke, my eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with an inner light before dimming to their usual hue. I sat up slowly, his entire being feeling different more attuned, more alive.
Sylva entered the room, her steps light but deliberate. She studied me for a moment, a small smile playing on her lips. "You've changed."
I nodded, still processing the dream and the sensation coursing through me. "It's like… I understand something I didn't before. Like a part of me has woken up."
Sylva walked closer, her gaze steady. "Your mana has matured. The qualities within you are evolving. You're stepping closer to what you're meant to become."
Her words carried a weight that made my chest tighten. I thought of the young mage in his dream, shunned but unyielding, and the fire of curiosity that drove him.
"Is this what it means to awaken?" I asked, my voice became quiet.
"Part of it," Sylva replied, her tone gentle. "But every awakening is unique. Yours is tied to the lives you've lived and the choices you'll make."
I clenched my fists, a newfound resolve settling over me. "Then I'll keep moving forward. I won't waste what I've been given."
Sylva's smile widened, though a hint of sadness flickered in her eyes. "Good. Just remember, the journey is as important as the destination. Don't lose sight of what truly matters."
As I rose to my feet, my body felt lighter yet more powerful, as though the very essence of mana within me had been refined. The world outside the cabin awaited me, but for now, I will let myself savor the moment of renewal, knowing it marked the beginning of something far greater.