Adam walked the narrow trail between cliffs, arms folded behind his back. A small bird followed him, fluttering between branches. He didn't shoo it away. The bird didn't sing. It just… stayed close. Maybe it sensed something about him. Maybe it just liked quiet men with shadows in their eyes.
The world here was peaceful, tucked between two ranges in the northwestern spine of the Lowlands. He'd left the sect he'd created days ago, letting it grow on its own. They called him Grandmaster, begged for wisdom. He gave them a single sentence before walking away: "Don't forget the soil beneath your feet."
He didn't look back.
Sometimes he wondered if he was becoming too soft. He hadn't destroyed a realm in a while. Hadn't cracked open the sky or whispered a new law into being. The calm was beginning to feel like weight on his shoulders. Or maybe that was just the wind. Either way, he didn't rush.
