The night had weight.
No breeze. No birds. Just the pulse of the realm.
Kean stood barefoot beneath the same old tree where he used to nap beside Beru. But this time, he wasn't resting.
His palms were open.Eyes closed.Breath slow.Feet grounded.
His heart whispered:
"I don't know what I am… but I won't wait to be told."
The Start of Solitude
At first, he mimicked what he saw other farmers do — stretching limbs, moving aura through soil. But something always felt different when he tried.
Not wrong. Just... off-track.
So he stopped copying.He began listening instead.
To the earth.To the wind.To the aura that danced inside his own blood.
Days Became Ritual
Every night, once the village slept, he returned to the field.
Day 1: He stood in rain until he could hear the raindrops inside him.
Day 4: He tried planting without touching soil — using aura alone.
Day 9: His sweat started glowing faint blue under moonlight.
The silence became his friend.The field became his dojo.The stars… his audience.
The Flame Inside
One night, something clicked.
He'd been trying to summon light — but instead, a tiny flame flickered from his palm. It wasn't fire. Not entirely. It didn't burn. It hummed.
Like it knew him.
"What are you…?" Kean whispered.
The flame didn't answer. But his mother's voice echoed faintly in memory.
"You'll understand when it's needed… not before."
A Broken Hoe & A Clean Cut
He began experimenting.
A broken wooden hoe? He repaired it by convincing the aura to reshape it.
A dense root he couldn't dig? He sliced it with nothing but a wave of his hand — air parted like silk.
Villagers noticed the changes — not directly, but in rumors.
"The field glows at night.""Birds don't enter his farm anymore.""The soil moves… when he walks."
But Kean told no one.
The Meaning of Silence
It wasn't about becoming strong.
It was about becoming still.So still, even the devil's whispers couldn't find him.
Sometimes he heard Ashbone's voice far away, trying to reach in.
"You are mine.""Come to me."
But Kean breathed deeper. He buried that voice under layers of discipline.
He wouldn't give in.Not yet.
Final Scene
On the 30th night, he stood at the edge of the cliff near the village.
He closed his eyes…Pushed his aura outward…And for the first time —
— the trees bowed gently.
Not in fear.In recognition.