Jeremy learned little things: that the house was built by hand from local stone and timber; that the river he was found by was called the Auralis; that the strange violet sky was perfectly normal here, a result of "the Veilwinds" that swept across the world.
Every detail made his chest ache.
I'm really gone, he thought. I'm really... somewhere else.
At night, when the house grew quiet and the crickets chirped their unfamiliar songs, Jeremy would lie awake and stare at the window. The twin moons — one silver, one blood-red — hung heavy in the sky, indifferent witnesses to his confusion and grief.
It was beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.
And it made him angry.
How dare the world be beautiful when his parents were dead? How dare he breathe new air when he should have drowned at the bottom of that lake?
One night, unable to stand the tightness in his chest anymore, Jeremy pulled the rough blanket around his shoulders and crept outside.
The farm stretched out under the starlight, rows of strange crops shimmering faintly under the violet sky. The river murmured in the distance.
He walked until he reached a low rise overlooking the fields. The wind was sharp and cold against his skin, but he didn't care.
Jeremy tilted his head back and stared at the stars until they blurred.
"Why?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why did you leave me?"
The night swallowed his words.
"I'm supposed to be strong, right?" he said, louder now. His hands clenched at his sides. "I'm supposed to just... move on? Like it doesn't hurt? Like you weren't my whole world?"
A sob wrenched its way out of his chest before he could stop it.
"I don't know what to do," he shouted into the night. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be without you!"
He fell to his knees, fists digging into the cold, dewy grass. Tears spilled freely now, hot and shameful.
Jeremy had learned never to cry where anyone could see. Back home, the lake had been the only place he allowed himself to break — the place where he put down all his shields, where he could be just Jeremy and not "The Lonely One."
Here, with the river whispering nearby and two alien moons watching, it didn't matter anymore. He let the grief consume him. For the first time since the funeral, he didn't fight it.
Somewhere behind him, there was a soft crunch of footsteps. He stiffened, but didn't turn.
Talon stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely. He didn't say anything. Didn't come closer.
He just waited.
Jeremy's shoulders shook as the last of his sobs wrung themselves out. Finally, after what felt like forever, he wiped his face on the sleeve of his borrowed tunic and turned.
Talon's expression was unreadable. But his voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet. Kind.
"No shame in mourning," he said. "The ones worth loving always leave holes too big to patch."
Jeremy looked away, ashamed.
Talon crouched beside him, staring out at the horizon.
"You're alive," he said simply. "That matters. Doesn't always seem fair. But it matters."
They sat there in silence for a long time, two broken souls under the wide, alien sky.
And for the first time since the lake swallowed him, Jeremy believed — maybe — that someday he might be whole again.
Foundations of a New Life
The next morning, Jeremy woke to the smell of baking bread and the low hum of voices outside. For a moment, the grief from the night before pressed against his chest again — but it wasn't as heavy as before. It was still there, sharp and real, but he could breathe around it now.
Maybe it was the violet sky. Maybe it was the river's constant, soothing murmur. Maybe it was the way Talon had sat with him without asking for explanations or demanding he "be strong."
Whatever it was, Jeremy sat up, pushed the rough blanket aside, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
It was time to move forward — even if he didn't know where forward led yet.
When he stumbled into the kitchen, Merina looked up from kneading dough and smiled.
"Morning, lad. Hungry?"
Jeremy nodded, and she set a bowl of thick, porridge-like food in front of him. It smelled strange — earthy and slightly spicy — but he ate without complaint. Every bite grounded him a little more.
Talon entered, wiping dirt from his hands.
"You're strong enough to walk," he observed. "Good. Finish eating, then meet me outside. Time to start earning your keep."
Jeremy froze, spoon halfway to his mouth.
Talon's eyes twinkled just slightly. "Don't look so worried. I'm not throwing you to the wolves yet."
Yet.
Jeremy finished eating faster than he had in days, nervous energy sparking in his veins.
Outside, the farm buzzed with life. Strange animals grazed in a fenced pasture — shaggy, four-horned creatures with sleepy eyes. Rows of crops shimmered in the morning mist, their leaves wider and darker than anything Jeremy recognized.
Talon tossed him a wooden pail.
"First lesson," he said. "Balance."
First Lessons: Strength Through Struggle
Jeremy frowned but obeyed. Talon filled two jars with water from the well — each heavier than they looked — and placed them inside the pail.
"Carry that around the house three times without spilling."
Jeremy adjusted the pail, trying to find his balance. The water sloshed, threatening to spill with every step.
Talon watched, arms crossed. "You walk like a city boy," he commented. "Too stiff. Too careful."
Jeremy scowled, setting his jaw. I'll show you, he thought, gritting his teeth.
By the second lap, his arms burned. His legs wobbled. Sweat dripped down his back.
Talon offered no encouragement, no sympathy. Only the steady presence of someone who had walked harder roads and survived.
Jeremy made it, barely, collapsing onto the grass at the end of the third lap.
Talon nodded once — the barest hint of approval.
"Not bad. Most give up before two."
Jeremy beamed despite himself. It wasn't much — but it was a start.
The Way of Cultivation
That night, after supper, Talon finally explained.
"You're not from around here," he said bluntly, polishing a wooden staff by the hearth. "No ordinary lad survives like that with no injuries and nothing but a fever to show for it."
Jeremy stiffened.
Talon continued, unfazed. "Doesn't matter where you came from. Only matters where you're going."
He set the staff down and looked Jeremy straight in the eye.
"This world doesn't favor the weak. It doesn't hate them, exactly — it just forgets them."
Jeremy swallowed.
"Strength," Talon said, tapping his chest, "is what carves your name into the stone of history. Not kindness. Not cleverness. Strength."
He picked up a handful of sand from a small jar near the hearth and let it trickle through his fingers.
"In this land, we cultivate ourselves. Body and spirit. We train until our bones sing and our souls harden. It's the only way to survive — to protect those who matter."
Jeremy thought of his parents — and the way he hadn't been able to protect anyone, not even himself.
"I want to learn," he said, voice low but steady.
Talon studied him for a long moment, then nodded once.
"Then you will."
Qi and Magic: Two Roads
Over the next couple of months, Jeremy's education began in earnest.
Mornings were for physical training: running laps, carrying stones, practicing balance drills until his legs trembled.
Afternoons were for stillness: sitting cross-legged in the sun, breathing deeply, learning to sense the flow of qi — the life energy that pulsed through every living thing.
At first, Jeremy sensed nothing. He sat in the field, sweat dripping into his eyes, feeling foolish.
Merina helped with the second part of his education.
"Magic," she explained one evening, handing him a cup of herbal tea, "is like water. It flows where the world needs it. Cultivation — martial strength — is like fire. It shapes the world to your will."
Jeremy listened, fascinated.
"Both are paths to power," she said. "Some choose one. Some both. Few master either."
She smiled slightly. "You have a spark of both, I think. We'll see where it leads."
Jeremy clutched the Eversoul Stone — the glowing rock he found at the bottom of the lake — whenever he meditated. It was warm against his palm, pulsing faintly in time with his breath.
He didn't understand it yet. But it felt... right. Like a tether to everything he'd lost — and everything he might still find.
A New Family
Despite the pain, the exhaustion, and the endless drills, Jeremy found himself smiling more often. Laughing, even. He pranked Talon often and found refuge behind Merina's skirt when Talon would chase him across the fields in mock anger.
Merina taught him how to bake a simple flatbread over the fire. Talon showed him how to whittle wood into tiny animals — horses, wolves, even dragons.
At night, Jeremy would sit by the river, listening to the unfamiliar croaks and chirps of nocturnal creatures. Sometimes, he still talked to his parents — whispered words the river carried away into the dark. His one sided conversations were no longer filled with blame and angry curses demanding to know why they left.
"I miss you," he said one night, clutching the Eversoul Stone tight. "But I'm not giving up. I'll make you proud."
The stars blinked overhead, silent but somehow reassuring.
He wasn't the Lonely One anymore.
Not completely.
Not here.
Whispers of the Stone
It happened late one night.
Jeremy couldn't sleep. His body ached from the day's training — Talon had introduced him to basic staff forms, and his arms still trembled from the effort. The wooden ceiling above him blurred in the half-light of the twin moons, casting silver pools across the floorboards.
The Eversoul Stone pulsed faintly on his chest as he wore it to sleep which had become habit.
Come.
The whisper wasn't a sound, exactly. More like a pressure against his thoughts.
Jeremy hesitated only a moment before sliding out from under the covers. He stood and wrapped the stone in his hand. It thrummed with quiet urgency.
Wrapping his cloak around his shoulders, Jeremy stepped outside.
The world was drenched in moonlight. Fields stretched out before him, shimmering like a silver ocean. The river murmured softly nearby. In the distance, he could just make out the dark rise of the woods.
The stone pulsed again — faster this time.
Heart hammering, Jeremy obeyed, following the pull across the fields, past the whispering crops and the sleeping animals. No one stirred. The world held its breath.
He reached the edge of the river.
The stone flared — and the world around him dissolved.
The Mist World
Jeremy stumbled forward — but the grass and earth were gone. He stood instead on a floating platform of smooth white stone, suspended in endless mist. Above him, twin suns shone cold and distant, their light pale and unyielding.
Before him, a winding staircase of floating platforms stretched upward into the mist — impossibly high.
A voice — ancient and vast — echoed from nowhere and everywhere:
"Strength is not given.
It is seized.
Climb, child."
Jeremy swallowed hard. His body ached. His heart quailed. But something deeper — a part of him that refused to die — flared to life.
He took the first step.
The platform shifted slightly under his foot, but held. He climbed.
And climbed.
And climbed.
At first, the steps were merely tiring. Then the mist thickened, pressing against his chest like heavy hands. Each step felt like walking through a storm. Memories surged up around him — sharp, cruel, vivid.
Brant's laughter as he was shoved into the lake.
The cold water stealing his breath.
The faces of his parents — smiling, alive — then fading, leaving only silence.
Jeremy stumbled to his knees, gasping.
The mist whispered:
"You are weak."
"You are alone."
"You are nothing."
Tears burned his eyes. For one terrible moment, he almost believed it.
But then — faint, almost forgotten — he remembered another voice.
Merina's gentle warmth: "You don't have to run anymore, child."
Talon's gruff certainty: "Strength comes through resistance."
Jeremy forced himself upright, muscles trembling.
He kept climbing.
The higher he climbed, the worse it became.
He saw himself back at school — the whispers, the stares, the cruel nickname: The Lonely One.
He saw himself drowning, reaching out — and no one reaching back.
He saw himself standing at his parents' graves, alone, hollowed out by grief.
Each memory tore at him like claws.
But for the first time, Jeremy didn't look away.
He faced them.
They were a part of him — the pain, the loneliness, the loss — but they were not all of him.
"I am not nothing," he said aloud, voice shaking.
The mist hissed — but it recoiled slightly.
Jeremy climbed faster now, fueled not by anger or hatred — but by sheer stubborn defiance.
He would not be erased.
He would not disappear.
At last, he reached the final platform.
It was a wide, flat expanse, ringed by tall stones carved with symbols he couldn't read. At the center floated a glowing sigil — a swirling pattern of roots and branches.
The voice spoke again:
"Endurance is the root of strength.
You have tasted loss.
You have tasted despair.
Yet you rise."
The sigil descended slowly, settling against Jeremy's chest.
It burned — not painfully, but with fierce, searing clarity.
Jeremy cried out, falling to his knees.
When he looked down, a mark glowed on his skin — a twisting symbol just over his heart.
Achieved Ability: Steadfast Heart. A calm voice echoed in his head. Though gifts will be bestowed on you from the Eversoul Stone in the future, this achievement is purely of your own doing. Those without a steadfast heart will fail in cultivation. It is a skill that is hardened through trials and struggle and you at 15 years old have mastered it. This will be a great aid in your future cultivation the voice continued.
Jeremy gasped as strength flooded his limbs — not just physical, but something deeper. A resilience that had nothing to do with muscles or speed. He wiped his face, stunned.
He felt... real. Solid. Anchored.
Whole.
The world pulsed once — and then he collasped.
Jeremy jerked awake to find himself lying by the riverbank, the Eversoul Stone cool and still in his palm.
The sky was lightening with the first hints of dawn.
His body still ached — but differently now. Like an unused muscle stretched too far, but stronger for it.
He sat up slowly, the memory of the climb burning behind his eyes.
The Root of Endurance was still there — he could feel it, no longer visible but a steady, silent strength thrumming in his chest.
He wasn't the same boy who had fallen into the lake.
Not anymore.
Over the following days, Jeremy trained harder than ever.
Talon noticed immediately.
"You're tougher," he commented after Jeremy finished carrying two full water jars without spilling a drop. "More... centered."
Jeremy shrugged, trying — and failing — to hide his grin.
Merina smiled quietly as she watched him run laps with steadier steps and clearer eyes.
The pain hadn't vanished. The grief was still there, a silent companion at the edges of his mind.
But it no longer ruled him.
He was learning to carry it — like the water jars — without spilling.
Without breaking.
One evening, sitting by the river with the Eversoul Stone warm in his palm, Jeremy whispered into the night:
"I'll find my path," he promised. "I'll get stronger. Strong enough that no one can hurt me again. Strong enough... to protect others, the way I couldn't before."
The river carried his words away.
The stars blinked overhead.
And deep within the Eversoul Stone, a second sigil — faint and waiting — stirred.
Jeremy didn't know it yet.
But this was only the beginning.
The Rhythm of Life
Mornings at the farm followed a simple rhythm.
The sun rose early in this world, drenching the fields in soft golden light. Birds that Jeremy didn't recognize sang songs with five-note melodies. The air was always fresh, tinged with the scent of wet earth and growing things.
Talon woke Jeremy before the sky even began to lighten.
He would knock twice on Jeremy's door — no more, no less — and expect him outside within minutes.
At first, Jeremy struggled. His body was still frail, a fact Talon acknowledged but never mocked.
Instead, he shaped the training around Jeremy's limits.
"You are not weak," Talon said one morning as Jeremy panted in the fields after a lap. "You are untempered. That is different."
Jeremy clung to those words.
Each day began with running: around the perimeter of the farm, barefoot. The first week, Jeremy's feet blistered and bled. Merina carefully cleaned and wrapped them each night without a word of complaint. In time, the pain lessened. His legs grew stronger. His breathing steadier.
After the run came balance training.
Talon had built a narrow beam over the river's edge — no more than two hands wide. Jeremy had to walk across it while balancing jars of water, one in each hand.
Every slip meant a soaking.
Jeremy slipped. Often.
The first time, he thrashed in the shallow water, coughing and sputtering as Talon stood above him, arms crossed.
"Balance," Talon said simply, extending a hand to haul him out. "Or you will be swept away."
Jeremy bit down his frustration. He climbed out, shook himself dry, and tried again.
And again.
And again.
He did not give up.
Talon's rare, approving nods became treasures Jeremy hoarded silently.
Learning the Breath
When the sun reached its zenith, they shifted to meditation.
Talon and Merina both insisted on this — though their methods differed.
Talon taught him the Breath of the Stone, a foundational breathing technique for martial cultivators.
"Stillness within movement," Talon explained as they sat cross-legged beneath the ancient oak tree. "Breath is the anchor. Breath is the shield."
Jeremy struggled. His mind raced when he tried to still it. He would fidget, tap his fingers, lose track of the slow, controlled breathing Talon demanded.
"Again," Talon said, never raising his voice. "Again."
Sometimes Jeremy wanted to scream. To rage. To give up.
But he didn't.
Something inside him — that stubborn ember that had carried him through the mist-world — refused to die.
Even when it hurt.
Especially then.
Failure
After weeks of intense training, Talon judged Jeremy ready for his first attempt at Qi Awakening.
They sat together in the clearing behind the farmhouse, the Eversoul Stone warm against Jeremy's chest.
Talon's voice was low and serious.
"Focus inward. Follow the breath down. Find the spark inside you. The core."
Jeremy obeyed.
He closed his eyes. Breathed. Dug deep.
At first, all he found was darkness — and pain.
Memories surfaced: the funeral. The cold stares at school. The mocking laughter at the lake.
His throat tightened.
No. Not now. Not now.
He tried again.
Deeper.
He thought he felt it — a flicker of light, buried deep within — and reached for it.
For a moment, his whole body tingled.
Hope surged in his chest.
But then — nothing.
The flicker died.
Jeremy opened his eyes to find Talon watching him with an unreadable expression.
"I failed," Jeremy whispered, voice shaking.
Talon shook his head.
"No," he said firmly. "You tried. That is not failure."
"But I couldn't even —"
"You will," Talon interrupted. "You are not ready yet. That is all."
Jeremy bit his lip to keep from crying. The shame was a living thing inside him, gnawing and fierce.
Without another word, he stood and walked away, ignoring Talon's call.
The Breakdown
Jeremy didn't stop until he reached the lake.
It had become a habit — the place he went when the weight of everything became too much.
The lake had always been his refuge, even back on Earth.
A place where he could just be.
Where he didn't have to pretend. Where he didn't have to be strong.
He fell to his knees at the water's edge.
The surface reflected the twin moons now climbing the sky — silver and serene.
Jeremy's fists clenched.
He stared into the water and shouted:
"Why am I not good enough?!"
His voice cracked.
"Why did this stupid stone choose me?!"
The words ripped out of him — raw, broken, helpless.
Tears spilled down his cheeks, hot and silent.
"I don't know what to do!" he sobbed. "I don't know how to survive in this place. I couldnt even survive Earth where I was born how will I survive here?!"
His body shook with the force of it.
Here, by the lake, he didn't have to hold the shields up.
Here, he could be a scared, broken boy crying and feeling sorry for himself — not the silent, stubborn "Lonely One" the world saw.
The water carried his sobs away, rippling gently.
Jeremy didn't know how long he stayed there — minutes or hours. It didn't matter.
Eventually, the storm inside him ebbed.
He sat quietly, tears drying on his cheeks, watching the stars reflected in the river.
Slowly — painfully — he rose to his feet.
He wasn't okay.
Not yet.
But maybe... maybe he didn't have to be.
Not all at once.
Talon's Lesson
Jeremy returned to the farmhouse long after midnight.
Talon waited for him on the porch, a mug of something steaming in his hands.
He didn't say anything as Jeremy approached, head bowed.
Instead, he simply handed Jeremy the mug.
The boy took it with trembling fingers. It smelled of spices and honey.
They sat together in silence for a long time.
Finally, Talon spoke, voice low and rough:
"You cannot build a sword from smoke, lad. Only steel. And steel is made through fire."
Jeremy stared into the mug, blinking rapidly.
"You are in the fire now," Talon continued. "That's not weakness. That's forging."
Jeremy swallowed hard.
Talon leaned forward, fixing him with a fierce gaze.
"You have already survived things that would have broken stronger men. You are still standing. That makes you stronger than you know."
Jeremy nodded, unable to speak.
The warmth of the drink seeped into his chest, chasing away the last lingering chill.
That night, he slept soundly for the first time in weeks without the doubts haunting his dreams.
The Breakthrough
The next morning, something changed.
Jeremy sat under the old oak, breathing steadily, feeling the earth beneath him, the sky above.
He reached inward — and this time, when he found the flicker, he didn't grasp for it desperately.
He simply breathed.
The flicker grew, steadied, brightened.
Slowly — carefully — he drew it upward.
Qi — real, living qi — flooded into his limbs like sunlight through ice.
When he opened his eyes, the world looked sharper. Brighter.
He felt alive in a way he never had before.
Talon watched him with a rare, full smile.
"Welcome, cultivator," he said quietly.
Jeremy laughed — a real, unforced laugh — and the sound startled even him.
He wasn't weak anymore.
He was on the path.
The Dream of Ironwood
Later that week, over dinner, Talon mentioned the Ironwood Martial Academy.
Jeremy's eyes lit up.
"A real academy? Like... where I could learn properly?"
Talon nodded.
"Ironwood takes in those who pass the Strength Assessment. Bronze Beginner is the minimum requirement. You are close."
Jeremy's heart pounded.
A dream he hadn't even dared to name flickered to life inside him.
Training. Friends. A future.
A place where he wasn't just "the Lonely One."
He would have to earn it — but that was fine.
He was used to fighting for every scrap.
And this time, he had something he never had before.
Hope.
Real, burning, stubborn hope.
Jeremy clenched his fists beneath the table.
"I'll do it," he said fiercely. "Whatever it takes."
Talon smiled again — and this time, so did Merina, her eyes soft and proud.
In the distance, beyond the fields and forests, the mountains loomed.
Jeremy didn't know what challenges lay ahead.
But he would face them.
One step at a time.
One breath at a time.
One dream at a time.
Because he was no longer just surviving.
He was becoming.