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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The Chicken Who Dreamed of Thunder

🐔 Chapter 2: The Chicken Who Dreamed of Thunder

The house was asleep.

Outside, the wind danced through stalks of corn and young wheat. Moonlight poured gently across the tiled roof of the Varenthor farmhouse, silvering the edge of every wooden beam.

Sylas lay in his crib beside the hearth, eyes wide open.

He hadn't cried once since his birth—not out of stubbornness, but because he was listening.

The seed from the night before had changed something.

He could hear the soil now.

Not as sound… but as whispers. Tiny pulses. Life signatures. Shifting rootlines. Moisture patterns. Even the emotions of the plants—if he focused.

"The spinach bed to the east is thirsty. The beans by the barn are oversaturated."

No normal baby could sense this.

No normal man could either.

But Sylas was neither.

🐣 Thundercluck

At dawn, the rooster crowed—or tried to.

BA-GAAAHHH–bzzZZZzAAHH–tthhhhmm.

The sound sputtered, crackled, and ended with a jolt of static that left half the family staring at each other, mugs of barley milk frozen mid-air.

"What… was that?" said Thira, blinking.

"That wasn't Cluckbar," Jeren said, peeking out the window. "He's not even standing on the coop roof. He's just… twitching."

Baron Aldric lowered his spoon.

"We'll check it out," he said, already reaching for his worn gloves.

Sylas, held gently in Lira's arms, watched as his father and older siblings trudged outside toward the chicken pen.

Something was wrong.

And he could feel it.

⚡The Storm in the Coop

The coop was surrounded by faintly scorched grass.

The old hen who had bowed to Sylas—whom Lira had named "Mistress Peck"—stood silently near the gate. But the rooster, Cluckbar, was in the center of the yard… trembling.

Tiny bolts of blue static flickered around his feathers.

Every few seconds, his wings would twitch, and he'd release a strange warbling noise—somewhere between a crow and a thunderclap.

CRAA-KTHHHM.

And the smell of ozone followed each cry.

"He's… sparking?" Bran muttered, stepping back.

"Did he eat something strange?" asked Maelis.

"No," Sylas thought, even from his distance in Lira's arms. "He's awakening. Just like I did."

The Rootborn Path hadn't just awakened him.

It was waking the farm.

📜 System Notification

A faint golden shimmer danced before Sylas's vision. No one else saw it.

[Spirit Beast Awakening Detected: "Cluckbar"]

Bloodline Potential: Stormfeather Roc (D-Grade Variant)

Status: Unstable | Guidance Required

Would you like to assist in spiritual stabilization?

—YES / NO—

His tiny hand twitched inside the blanket.

Yes.

🌾 The Touch of a Farmer Emperor

Lira sat beside the coop gate with Sylas in her arms, cooing softly at the chickens. The others were still trying to figure out how to calm Cluckbar, who had now sent a tiny bolt of static into the fence post.

Without thinking, Sylas reached out.

His fingers—still chubby and small—touched the wood.

And through the earth, he reached the rooster.

A pulse.

A breath.

A heartbeat in sync.

"Be still. You are not prey. You are part of the land now. You serve the soil."

The rooster froze mid-crow.

His wings folded. The sparks vanished.

The field fell silent.

The chickens slowly returned to their scratching and pecking.

Mistress Peck gave a long, low cluck—and bowed again.

🐔 Spirit Beast Bond: Initiated

[Stormfeather Bloodline Stabilized]

Beast Type: Guardian Fowl – Variant

Bond Level: 1 (Rootlink)

Skill Awakened: Static Crow (Low Tier)

Effect: Can generate harmless static bursts to ward off threats.

Title Gained: "One Who Calms the Coop"

Sylas chuckled softly in his mind.

"A far cry from commanding armies. But I'll take it."

🧑‍🌾 A Family That Notices

That night, as Lira laid him down to sleep, she paused and stared at his face.

"You always know what's going on, don't you?" she murmured. "You don't look like a baby when you look at us."

She kissed his forehead anyway.

"Maybe you're here for a reason," she whispered.

"Our little miracle sprout."

Sylas stared up at the wooden ceiling beams.

The seed beneath the floor was growing.

And for the first time in his two lives… he felt truly rooted.

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