The world had shifted. Ethan felt it, a hum that wasn't just in the air around his dad, but in the very ground beneath his bare feet, in the rustle of leaves, in the quiet breaths of the creatures hidden in the woods. It was like the world itself had taken a deep, shuddering breath, and everything was different. This new feeling, this power, had ripped back into being, and whatever had happened to them, to his family, had somehow let it flow into him too. He felt it settle, a strange, new strength that wasn't just muscles, but something deeper, humming just under his skin.
He'd spent the last year understanding this. He was ten, almost eleven, and things were making more sense, but also getting stranger. He saw his dad, Mark, building their reinforced log cabin eight months ago, timbers singing with a quiet strength. Now, his dad was focused on the perimeter wall, and Ethan could feel the earth settling around it, sturdy and firm. He knew this feeling came from the same source as the cabin's strength.
Then came the horses. A big herd near the wall, but half of them were different. They were huge, like horses, but with antlers like stags, and even dragon-like tails and cloven feet. He'd learned they were called Qirin. The sight was breathtaking, and in its wake, he felt an even deeper connection to the horses, a resonance that went beyond his usual calming influence. It was like the world's power had made them, and in doing so, had deepened his own burgeoning abilities.
He remembered the evening clearly. He'd been watching the Qirin for hours, just feeling their presence. When his dad came back, Ethan just knew what to say. "You can talk to them, can't you, Dad? Not with words, but... in your head."
His dad's reaction, the way he paused and looked at him, made Ethan realize something important about the iron thread – the quiet thoughts that passed between living things. It wasn't just seeing thoughts; it was like a secret path opened up. He could send a calm feeling, a silent request, and sometimes, they'd answer. It was a psychic ability, a way of being close to creatures, especially the Qirin, without speaking. It was the world's new power letting them understand each other, not with noise, but with quiet knowing. This quiet understanding also led him to a remarkable friendship: a hawk, its sharp eyes once wary, had slowly come to trust him, and now often perched on a nearby branch or followed his movements, becoming a regular buddy in his solitary explorations.
Ethan also discovered one of the Qirin in the surrounding forest. This particular one had blue, dull scales that looked like thick, almost unbreakable crystal. It moved like a shadow, blending perfectly into the muted light of the trees. Ethan felt drawn to it, but also sensed its deep wariness. His father, seeing Ethan's fascination, helped him. Not to command the creature, but to gently calm it, using his own burgeoning connection to the world's power. It was enough for them to get a little closer, to establish a small, hesitant bond.
Everything around him felt more vibrant, more alive. The bronze thread, the way things were built and held together, it hummed louder in every tree and rock. The iron thread, the feelings of all living things, was a symphony now, especially with the impossible Qirin joining in. His own growing strength, the way his body felt subtly different, it was all part of this. It wasn't just his power; it was the world's power, flowing through him.
He was just Ethan, the same boy who loved exploring the woods, but now, the woods felt different. He was helping his family build a life here, stronger than ever. His dad was still just his dad, building and protecting, but now, his dad's efforts were intertwined with this incredible, re-awakened power. Ethan knew, deep down, that his own unique way of seeing and feeling, nurtured by his family and this wild, changing place, was just beginning to unfold. He was ready to discover what else the world's power had in store for him.