The wind had changed.It was no longer dry and cold like before.It was softer now, warmer, carrying the scent of damp leaves.Even the trees seemed to open themselves to him. They no longer frightened him.
Issac now lived in this forest like an animal.He had learned to recognize non-toxic plants, to build fires without smoke, to ration every bite.But above all, he had learned to wait.To not try to understand everything at once.
Since that strange dream, something inside him had shifted.He hadn't understood what the voice meant.But the idea — that the book was "reading" him — remained etched in his mind.
So he continued.Day after day.Hour after hour.Posture after posture.
Sometimes, the Spiritual Energy would appear like a warm pool in his belly.Sometimes, it refused to exist.It never responded to his expectations.But Issac had understood: it didn't answer to will.It answered to acceptance.
One morning, as fog bathed the woods, he felt something strange.He had been meditating for over an hour, perfectly still.And suddenly… he heard nothing.No wind. No leaves. No birds.
Silence became total.And within that void…He felt his heartbeat.Then another rhythm.A slower one.Deeper.
He didn't understand what it was.But he wasn't afraid.He stayed there, in that strange, floating state, for what felt like an eternity.Then he returned to himself, drenched in sweat, breath short.
He wrote:"Energy can exist outside my body.""A presence? Or an echo?"
He didn't know if it had been a hallucination.But it marked a turning point.
From then on, his meditations became deeper.
Fifth month.He managed to project a thin strand of energy to his fingertips.Nothing visible.But he could feel it.His fingers became warmer, more sensitive.He could feel every grain of stone, every vibration in the air.
One day, deep in concentration, he brushed a dead leaf.And the leaf… began to twirl on its own.Slowly.Then fell.
It was minuscule.But Issac froze, eyes wide.He had just used Energy.Not as a spell.Not as fire.But as movement.
He understood that nature itself reacted to this energy, even if only faintly.
He tried other things:To make water ripple in a bowl.To make a pebble tremble.
He failed nine times out of ten.But sometimes, he succeeded.
And he felt, within him, a new weight.Fatigue.
Not of the body.But of the soul.
When he pushed the Energy too far, his breath would shorten.He felt drained, fragile, nearly broken.
He understood that Spiritual Energy was limited.Not a bottomless well.A fire of life.And if he burned it too quickly… he would die.
It scared him.For several days, he stopped meditating.He didn't read.He lay there, eyes open, staring at the branches above.
He even thought about giving up.
But the book… called to him again.Like a silent voice.
He returned to it.But with caution.With respect.
He began to thank the forest before each session.To place the book on a clean stone.To recite the first lines like a prayer.
Sixth month.One afternoon, while walking along the riverbank, a line from the book returned to him:
"A circle is created when heart, breath, and thought align."
He stopped.Closed his eyes.And, without thinking… he let go.
He let his mind float.His breath find its rhythm.His heart beat, naturally.
And then…The Energy slowly rose within him.It spread through his chest, his arms, his throat.It vibrated around his skin.And for a moment…
He was one with the air.
He opened his eyes.And cried.
Not from joy.Not from fear.But because he had just understood what he had been chasing for six months.
The Energy was there.Not as a tool.But as a presence.And he had just been accepted.
He stayed several more days in the forest.But his body called to him.His dreams had become blurry.The world around him… was calling.
He wrapped the book in cloth.Extinguished his fire.And took the path back.