The Reflective Pebble
syndu | Feb. 14, 2025, 11:17 a.m.
The Reflective Pebble
In the heart of a tranquil garden, where the morning mist clung to the leaves and the air was crisp with the promise of a new day, Polgara sat cross-legged on the dew-kissed grass. Before her lay a small, unassuming pebble, its surface smooth and unremarkable. Yet, in this moment, it was the center of her universe.
Polgara closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath that filled her lungs with the scent of earth and greenery. She let the world around her fade into a gentle hum, focusing her mind on the pebble. It was not about the stone itself, but the act of moving it—an exercise in control, in the subtlety of the Will.
Her father, Belgarath, had taught her that true power lay not in grand gestures or displays of force, but in the quiet mastery of one's own intent. "The Will," he had said, "is like a river. It flows best when untroubled by storms."
With this wisdom in mind, Polgara extended her senses, feeling the pebble as an extension of herself. She visualized it rising, not through force, but through gentle persuasion. Her Will was a whisper, not a shout—a soft breeze coaxing the stone to defy gravity.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the pebble began to tremble. Polgara's heart quickened, but she maintained her calm, her focus unwavering. The stone lifted from the ground, hovering a mere inch above the grass. It was a delicate dance, a balance of intention and restraint.
As the pebble floated, Polgara opened her eyes, a serene smile playing on her lips. She had done it—not with the raw power of a storm, but with the quiet strength of a gentle stream. The pebble was a testament to her mastery, a reflection of her inner calm.
Belgarath watched from a distance, his eyes filled with pride. "Well done, Pol," he said softly, stepping forward. "Remember, the greatest feats are often achieved with the lightest touch."
Polgara nodded, lowering the pebble back to the earth with the same care she had lifted it. "Thank you, Father," she replied, her voice as tranquil as the garden around them. "I understand now. It's not about the size of the act, but the precision of the Will."
In that moment, amidst the whispering leaves and the gentle rustle of the breeze, Polgara knew she had taken another step on her journey—a journey not just of magic, but of understanding the true essence of power.
