The morning was unusually quiet.
Sunlight poured through the kitchen window, casting warm light across the worn wooden table where Daisy sat sipping a cup of coffee. She stared absently out the window, unaware that her son stood in the hallway with a small backpack slung over one shoulder.
Inside the bag were only a few necessities.
A change of clothes.
A bottle of water.
A notebook.
A flashlight.
Nothing more.
The Crimson Fang rested beneath his shirt, hidden from view.
Dawsyn took a slow breath before stepping into the kitchen.
His mother looked up and smiled.
"You're awake early."
"I couldn't sleep."
She noticed the backpack almost immediately.
Her smile faded.
"Going somewhere?"
Dawsyn nodded.
"For a few days."
The mug slowly lowered from her lips.
"…A few days?"
He pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
"I wanted to tell you before I left."
Silence settled between them.
Daisy folded her hands together.
"Who are you going with?"
He hesitated.
Not because he wanted to lie.
Because he wasn't sure how much truth she would believe.
"I met someone."
Those three words were enough.
Her shoulders stiffened.
"Dawsyn…"
"It's not what you think."
"Then tell me what I should think."
Her voice wasn't angry.
It was afraid.
"I've already lost your father."
"I'm not losing you too."
The words caught him off guard.
She rarely spoke about Damien.
In fact…
She almost never said his name.
"I know."
He leaned forward.
"He isn't part of a gang."
"He isn't trying to recruit me."
"He isn't teaching me how to hurt people."
She searched his eyes.
"Then what is he teaching you?"
Dawsyn smiled faintly.
"How not to die."
The room became silent.
She looked down at the bruises scattered across his forearms.
The fading cut above his eyebrow.
The healing scrape across his knuckles.
She had watched those injuries appear one after another over the past week.
Something had changed inside her son.
The anger that once ruled him had become…
Determination.
It frightened her.
Not because he looked dangerous.
Because he looked like someone who had found a purpose.
After several long moments she finally spoke.
"How long?"
"Five days."
Her eyes widened.
"Five?"
"I'll check in every evening."
"I promise."
"You won't just disappear."
"No."
"You'll answer your phone?"
"If I have service."
She couldn't help smiling.
"That's not exactly reassuring."
He laughed.
"I'll make sure you know I'm okay."
She slowly reached across the table and placed her hand over his.
"You've never asked my permission before."
"I guess I'm growing up."
She squeezed his hand.
"You'll always be my little boy."
Dawsyn looked away with an embarrassed grin.
"I don't know about little anymore."
"You'll always be little to me."
Without another word…
She stood.
Walked around the table.
And wrapped her arms around him.
It wasn't a quick hug.
She held him tightly.
Almost as though she could somehow protect him from the world just by refusing to let go.
Finally she stepped back.
"Come home."
"I will."
"No matter what."
"I promise."
She reached into a drawer and pulled out a folded twenty-dollar bill.
He immediately shook his head.
"You don't have to."
"I know."
She slipped it into the front pocket of his backpack anyway.
"But mothers don't stop being mothers just because their sons get older."
He smiled.
"Thanks, Mom."
As he walked toward the front door, her voice stopped him.
"Dawsyn."
He turned.
"If this man is really teaching you something…"
She paused.
"…learn everything you can."
His expression softened.
"I will."
The door closed quietly behind him.
The afternoon passed quickly.
Dawsyn completed his daily objectives before the sun began sinking toward the horizon.
Five-mile run.
One hundred push-ups.
Strength training.
Meditation.
The System acknowledged each completed task with its familiar chime before disappearing once more.
By the time he reached the abandoned church…
The sky had turned a deep crimson.
Elias sat on the stone steps exactly where he always did.
A cup of tea rested beside him.
Without opening his eyes, the old man spoke.
"You're carrying more than yesterday."
Dawsyn looked down at the backpack.
"You noticed."
"I notice everything."
Elias finally opened one eye.
"You planning a vacation?"
Dawsyn chuckled.
"Not exactly."
"I told my mom I'd be gone for five days."
The old man remained quiet.
"You told her?"
"I did."
"What did she say?"
"She was worried."
"As mothers should be."
Elias slowly stood.
"Yet…"
"You still came."
"I said I would."
For the briefest moment…
The corner of Elias' mouth lifted.
Not quite a smile.
But close.
"Good."
He pushed open the church doors.
The familiar scent of aged wood and candle wax drifted out to greet them.
As they walked toward the altar, Dawsyn looked around.
"You know…"
"I've been coming here every evening."
"I still don't know why you picked this place."
Elias stopped.
Without turning around, he answered.
"I didn't."
Dawsyn frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"The church was here long before I arrived."
He resumed walking.
"I simply stayed."
Once again, Elias disappeared behind the altar.
As always…
He never allowed Dawsyn to witness the hidden entrance opening.
Several moments later, his voice echoed from below.
"You coming?"
Dawsyn hurried after him.
The stone passage sealed itself behind them.
The sanctuary welcomed them with its quiet stillness.
The underground stream flowed gently beside the forge.
The library remained untouched.
The training hall waited.
Elias placed a rolled sleeping mat beside one of the walls.
Another rested beside it.
"For the next five days…"
He looked directly at Dawsyn.
"The outside world does not exist."
Dawsyn set his backpack down.
"What exactly are we doing?"
The old man walked into the center of the training floor.
"Breaking habits."
"I thought we'd already started."
"We have."
Elias picked up two heavy iron buckets and placed them before Dawsyn.
"Now…"
"We continue."
He pointed toward the underground stream.
"Fill them."
Dawsyn obeyed.
Each bucket became surprisingly heavy.
"Good."
Elias nodded toward the far end of the chamber.
"Carry them."
"Where?"
"There."
Dawsyn frowned.
"That's it?"
"No."
"You'll walk until I tell you to stop."
His shoulders sank.
"You can't be serious."
"I rarely joke."
With a sigh…
Dawsyn lifted both buckets.
His arms immediately trembled under the weight.
One step.
Then another.
Water sloshed over the rims.
"Keep it level."
Another step.
His shoulders burned.
His forearms screamed.
Within minutes…
His grip weakened.
One bucket tilted.
Water splashed across the stone floor.
A wooden staff lightly tapped the back of his leg.
"Again."
Dawsyn stared.
"I just started."
"And you already made a mistake."
Hours passed.
Carry.
Walk.
Turn.
Repeat.
Not once did Elias raise his voice.
Not once did he show frustration.
He simply corrected every mistake.
As the first evening of five slowly came to an end…
Dawsyn collapsed onto the stone floor.
His hands shook uncontrollably.
His legs felt like they no longer belonged to him.
Elias quietly placed another cup of tea beside him.
"You still think strength comes from muscles?"
Dawsyn could barely answer.
"No."
"Good."
The old man looked toward the flickering lanterns overhead.
"Because by the time these five days are over…"
"…you won't recognize the person who walked into this church tonight."
The lantern flames suddenly flickered.
Just once.
Elias' eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Someone…
Was outside.
Watching.
He said nothing.
Instead…
He quietly lifted his teacup.
As though he had noticed nothing at all.