In The Eyes of Truth

The days passed by in a blur, each one feeling heavier than the last. Every time I closed my eyes, the figure of the squire was there, clear in my mind.
 
The more I practiced, swinging the stick, lifting it over my head, trying to follow the movements that felt so strange and familiar at the same time, the more I realized this wasn't just a dream.
 
It was becoming something real.
 
Something I didn't understand.
 
Was I losing my mind? Was I letting a dream take over me, turning me into someone I was not?
 
At night, I lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. The image of the squire stood there, in my thoughts. He didn't say anything, but his presence was strong. His movements were perfect, quick, precise. Sometimes, I felt like I wasn't me anymore. I felt like I was him, the squire. The thought scared me, but it also made me feel alive. Could I be like him? Could I really do it?
 
I picked up the stick again. It was just a simple piece of wood, but when I held it, something in me felt different. The weight felt right in my hand. The way my fingers wrapped around it felt like I had done this before. But how? I never had trained like this before. It was all so strange, but so real at the same time.
 
The soreness in my muscles became something I was used to. Every day, I felt the ache in my arms, my legs, my back. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. The training became part of my routine, something I had to do. But there were moments, small moments, when I doubted myself. Was I just pretending? Was this all just in my head?
 
I dropped into a low stance, feet planted firmly on the ground. I tried to focus on the movement. I swung the stick to the side, then thrust it forward like I had seen in my dreams. It felt right. It felt like I knew exactly what I was doing. But I couldn't explain why.
 
This wasn't real.
 

I couldn't be like him.
 
I'm not a warrior.
 
I'm not a knight.
 
But my body, my mind is telling me that everything told me something different. Each time I trained, the movement felt more natural. Like I was becoming someone else, someone stronger. But was I ready for this? Was I ready to become someone I wasn't sure I even knew?
 
I had never been the type to exercise, to run or push my body. But one morning, after another long training session, I thought about it. What if I could push myself more? What if running, jogging, could make me stronger too?
 
So I ran. I didn't know why, but it felt important. At first, it was just a way to warm up for the stick training. But as the days went by, running became more than just a warm-up. It was something I needed to do.
 
Every step I took, my legs moving faster, my breath coming harder as if it made me feel like I was chasing something.
 
But what was I chasing?
 
Was it freedom?
 
Was it strength?
 
The more I ran, the more confused I became. Why was I doing this? Was it for me, or was it because I felt like I had to be someone else?
 
The fear crept back in, slowly. I didn't understand why this was happening. It didn't make sense. But still, I kept pushing. I kept going. Each time I moved my body, it felt like something was being unlocked. Something deep inside of me was changing, but I didn't know if it was a good change.
 
One day, after running for what felt like hours, I stopped by a fountain to catch my breath. Sweat was dripping down my face, and my legs ached. I looked at myself in the water. I didn't recognize the person staring back at me. The person in the reflection was someone different. Someone stronger, someone with purpose. But that wasn't me. Not really.
 
The stick in my hand felt heavier now. It wasn't just a stick anymore. It felt like a sword. The weight was right, the grip was right. When I swung it, I felt the movement in my bones, like I had done it a thousand times before.
 
But who was I becoming? Was I really turning into the squire from my dreams?
 
Was I becoming someone I was not? I didn't know anymore. I didn't know who I was. I didn't know who I wanted to be.
 
I kept thinking about the squire.
 
His face, his actions.
 
I wanted to be like him, but was I running away from the person I had been?
 
Was I trying to escape my past?
 
Every time I trained, every time I ran, it felt like I was losing a part of myself.
 
But then another part of me felt alive, as if I was becoming the person I was always meant to be.
 
I didn't know what was happening, but it felt like I couldn't turn back now. Every movement, every step I took, seemed to lead me further from the person I was before. But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.