Jump

Life at the Temple of Shadows is not for the faint of heart. We train in darkness, away from the distractions of the world, where the only thing that matters is the path we walk and the cost of each step.

One morning, the Warden led me to the edge of a cliff that overlooked an abyss of swirling mist. The air was thick, and the ground beneath my feet felt unstable, as if the earth itself were unsure of its place in the world. The Warden stood before me, as unmoving as the stone that made up the temple’s foundation.

“You seek mastery, but you do not yet understand what it requires,” he said, his voice steady but filled with weight. “To grow, you must give up more than you are willing to lose.”

I glanced at the abyss below, unsure of his meaning. “What must I give up?”

The Warden’s eyes glowed faintly in the dim light. “The journey toward mastery is a path of continual sacrifice. It is not only what you are willing to lose, but also what you cannot bear to part with.”

Without warning, he stepped back and gestured to the cliff’s edge. “I want you to leap. Into the abyss.”

I recoiled. The drop was endless, the mist swirling below like an open mouth, waiting to swallow me whole. But the Warden stood firm, his gaze unwavering.

“This is the sacrifice you must make,” he said. “You must let go of your fear, your doubt. These are the chains that bind you.”

I hesitated. The fear gripped me tighter than any chain ever could. But as I stood there, something began to shift within me. The darkness—the weight of the unknown—was not something to fear, but something to embrace. It was the cost of growth. The price of mastery.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, allowing my body to fall into the void.

Time ceased to exist as I plummeted through the mist, my heart pounding in my chest. The air was cold, suffocating. I was falling into nothingness. But just as I thought I might be lost forever, something shifted within me. The fear loosened its grip, and in that moment, I understood. I had given up my need for control, my attachment to safety. I had let go of the very thing that had kept me bound to the earth.

The next thing I knew, I was standing on solid ground again, my heart still racing, but no longer burdened by the weight of fear. The Warden stood before me, watching silently.

“You have leapt,” he said, his voice softer now. “You have learned that mastery is not a destination, but a process. You do not reach it by avoiding the fall, but by embracing the freefall itself.”

I stood in silence, the world around me still and calm. For the first time, I understood what the Warden had meant: mastery was not a place to be arrived at, but a journey that required constant sacrifice. The fear, the doubt, the comfort—these were all things I had to let go of in order to grow.