Chapter 2-Echoes of the Past

  The snow fell gently as Viktor trudged through the forest, his breath forming clouds of mist in the cold morning air. Each step was a heavy reminder of the chaos he had left behind, the warmth of his parents’ love now replaced by the cold grip of grief. His small frame was weary from the journey, but the memory of his father’s last words drove him onward.

  The forest seemed endless, a maze of towering pines and snow-covered ground. Viktor’s young mind was numb, unable to fully grasp the horror of what had happened. He wasn’t thinking of revenge or anger; he was simply confused, lost in a world that had turned upside down in an instant.

  After what felt like an eternity, Viktor spotted the small cabin through the trees. Its wooden walls were sturdy, weathered by time, yet it stood as a beacon of hope amidst the overwhelming silence. Viktor approached and knocked on the door, his knuckles brushing against the rough wood.

  The door creaked open, revealing a tall, slender figure. Kaavi stood there, his eyes—a keen, penetrating brown—seemed to peer straight into Viktor’s soul. Despite his age, Kaavi’s movements were fluid, his body still strong, a testament to the energy he drew from the environment around him. His kind face, framed by short brown hair, was both comforting and mysterious, hiding a depth of experience that Viktor could only guess at.

  “Welcome, Viktor,” Kaavi greeted, his voice steady yet somehow soothing. “Come, warm yourself by the fire. You’ve travelled far.”

  Viktor, heavy-hearted with loss, found solace in the old man’s presence. He stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the fire begin to thaw the cold that had seeped into his bones. Kaavi guided him to a chair by the hearth, his touch gentle but firm.

  Kaavi’s eyes lingered on the scar over Viktor’s right eye, a stark reminder of the violence that had taken place. Without a word, he fetched bandages and began to tend to the wound. Viktor winced slightly as Kaavi carefully cleaned the cut, but the old man’s touch was skilled and precise, bringing relief rather than pain.

  “It’s just a cut,” Kaavi murmured, more to himself than to Viktor. “Nothing serious. You’ll heal.”

  As Kaavi finished, he placed his palm gently on Viktor’s head, closing his eyes. Viktor felt a strange sensation, as if a gentle breeze was passing through his mind. Kaavi’s abilities were subtle, yet powerful—he could see, hear, and feel through others. In that moment, he relived the horror Viktor had witnessed. The images flashed in his mind: the struggle, the blood, Sasha’s last breath, Artur’s desperate fight.

  Kaavi opened his eyes, his expression sorrowful yet composed. He could feel Viktor’s turmoil, the confusion of a child who had seen too much. “You’ve seen much for one so young,” Kaavi said softly, his voice a mix of compassion and authority. “The pain in your heart is loud, and the questions in your mind are many.”

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  Viktor looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. “How do you know?”

  Kaavi smiled gently, a smile that held both comfort and sorrow. “The echoes, Viktor. The surface of a deep well of emotions you’re yet to explore.”

  Viktor shuffled his feet, feeling exposed yet not judged. “How do you know these things?” he asked, his voice tinged with the confusion of a child who had just encountered the mysterious.

  Kaavi knelt before Viktor, meeting his eyes at level. “In this world, there are those who possess gifts that seem like magic to others.”

  Viktor’s eyes widened in wonder. “Like the stories of old?”

  Kaavi chuckled. “Yes, like the stories of old. Think of it as a rare understanding, a way to connect with the unseen, much like the wizards in the tales your mother told you.”

  As they sat by the fire, Kaavi began to share stories of Viktor’s heritage, hoping to ease the boy’s troubled mind. “Your father, Artur,” Kaavi began, his voice steady, “came from a proud lineage of warriors, a clan led by your grandfather. He was a man of great strength and honour, much like you will become one day.”

  Kaavi paused, his eyes reflecting a distant memory. “After your grandmother passed away, I left the town to find peace in this forest. It was a time of great sorrow, but this place gave me solace. When your father met your mother, Sasha, he came to me, not just out of love for her, but out of a sense of duty to family. He asked for her hand in marriage and decided to live nearby, so he could care for both Sasha and me.”

  Viktor listened intently as the pieces of his father’s past fell into place like the snowflakes outside the window. Kaavi’s stories wove a narrative of Viktor’s heritage, a tapestry of honour and sacrifice. As the day waned, Kaavi gently guided Viktor back to the present. “Now, let us prepare to give your parents the sendoff they deserve, as befits their legacy and the love they shared.”

  As the evening set in, Kaavi led Viktor through the snowy forest, back to the place where his world had shattered. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden light on the snow. They reached Viktor’s home, now eerily quiet, the warmth and laughter it once held forever gone.

  Kaavi worked silently, his movements sure and deliberate. He gathered wood and built a funeral pyre, placing Sasha and Artur’s bodies gently atop it. Viktor watched, his heart heavy, yet still numbed by the shock of it all.

  Kaavi handed Viktor a lit torch, his expression solemn. “It is time, Viktor,” he said softly. “Give them the peace they deserve.”

  With trembling hands, Viktor took the torch and stepped forward. The flames flickered, their light dancing on the snow as he touched the torch to the pyre. The wood caught fire quickly, the flames rising high, crackling in the silence of the forest.

  Viktor stood beside Kaavi, watching as the flames consumed the pyre, carrying the essence of his parents into the night sky. The snow around them seemed to absorb the warmth of the ceremony, a stark contrast to the cold that had settled in Viktor’s heart.

  Kaavi’s voice was gentle but firm as he spoke the words of the warrior’s sendoff, a rite that honoured the lives and valour of those who had passed. “Be brave, Viktor,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Your parents’ spirits are now free, and their memories will live on through you.”

  As the fire crackled and the last of the embers glowed, Kaavi turned to Viktor, his eyes reflecting the flickering light. “It is just you and me now. We will live together, and I will teach you the ways of the world, just as your parents would have.”

  Viktor nodded, the gravity of the moment etching a new resolve into his young features. He watched as the flames dwindled, a sense of peace settling over the clearing. The ceremony had been a tribute to his parents, one that honoured their lives and the traditions of their clan.

  Yet, in the depths of Viktor’s heart, where the warmth of the fire could not reach, there lay a small ember of revenge—a quiet, persistent glow that whispered of unfinished business. It was not a raging inferno, but a steady beacon that would one day guide his actions.

  With the ceremony complete, Kaavi led Viktor back to the cabin, the warmth of the hearth a welcome respite from the chill of the evening. “You are strong, Viktor,” Kaavi said as they settled in for the night. “Together, we will face whatever the future holds, and when the time is right, you will know how to honour your parents’ legacy.”

  Viktor felt the truth of Kaavi’s words. In the old man’s company, he found not only a mentor but a family. And as the stars twinkled above, Viktor knew that the journey ahead would be one of learning, growth, and the unwavering spirit of the warrior’s way, tempered by the quiet resolve that now burned within him.