A Stone Slab

I now live at the Temple of Shadows, hidden deep within the mountains where light is scarce, and the winds speak in whispers. The Master, known only as the Warden, is a figure as old as the rocks themselves, his presence both heavy and distant. He teaches through silence, through absence, and in the years I’ve spent here, I’ve learned that the greatest lessons come not from words, but from the trials he sets before me.

There are no comforts in this place, only discipline. The air smells of earth and the weight of centuries. Every day is the same—a relentless repetition of motion, of strikes, of meditation. The temple itself seems alive, its stone walls groaning with the weight of history. Yet, despite the monotony, I never feel stagnant. Here, growth is a constant, and so is sacrifice.

One day, the Warden led me to a stone slab in the heart of the temple. It stood alone, untouched by time, the very center of this place.

“Strike it,” he said, his voice like the rumbling of distant thunder.

I raised my fist, feeling the energy build in my core, then struck the stone with everything I had. My knuckles cracked, blood ran down my arm, but the stone stood firm. I did not stop. Again and again, I hit it, until the pain became unbearable. But still, the stone remained unyielding.

The Warden’s shadow fell over me as I knelt, hands broken and raw. He said nothing for a long time.

“You think growth is gained through strength,” he finally said. “But strength alone is not enough.”

I stared at the stone, my vision blurring with tears. “Then how? How do I break it?”

The Warden bent down, his face inches from mine. “You don’t break it,” he said softly. “You break yourself. True growth requires sacrifice, not in what you give, but in what you lose. To move forward, you must leave pieces of yourself behind.”

He turned and walked away, his robes fading into the shadows. I stayed there for hours, the stone still unmoved, yet somehow, I felt changed. The pain in my hands was still there, but I knew that the lesson was not in the act of destruction, but in the surrender of my own desires.