"So, Taima," I muttered, brushing ash from my cloak, "When is anyone going to tell me where the ritual site is?"
Still hunched near the fire, she cocked an eyebrow without lifting her head. "What do you mean? You just... head back and—" Her voice drifted as she finally looked up.
Silence fell like a stone.
We both stared into the night outside the cave. There was not even the outline of a tree. There was no moonlight. Just a wall of thick, starless black pressing in from all sides.
"Nootau," she said quietly.
Her voice had changed—no longer playful, but firm. Ancient, even.
"Those who walk the path of the Elements are never lost."
"Uh-huh." I slung the cloak over my shoulder. "And what aboutyou?"
The smile she gave me was small. Her eyes shimmered with something raw. "I'll catch up. I always do."
She didn't rise. Her limbs stayed coiled close to the fire, fingers trembling just slightly as she poked the coals deeper with a stick. The flicker of light made her look older. I hesitated, one hoof already over the threshold, face buried deep in the veil in front of me.
"Nootau?"
I turned.
She was trying to stand, hands braced on her knees, shoulders quaking with the effort.
"I'd better see you at that ritual," she said.
Something flew through the air. I caught it without thinking—weighty, wrapped in bloodstained cloth, the fibres still damp. I unwrapped it just enough to glimpse a glint of steel. The hilt of a kris dagger, its blade tucked in like a sleeping serpent.
She didn't say another word.
Leaving the cave, I stepped into a night swallowed whole by shadow. The forest before me, once alive with trails and tangled roots, had vanished, replaced by a wall of darkness so dense, it felt alive. Not a path in sight.
Back against the hard floor, my hand swiped across the sleek cut stone. Its pattern almost mosaic. A ray of moonlight breaking through the cloud front, a feeling of serenity caressed my fur. My hand almost grasping for the translucent moonlight, my eyes caught a fire softly lighting up nearby. A drum-heavy, yet invigorating, beat overtook my heartbeat. I swore I could hear chanting carried by the soft wind howling by on the peak. Standing on the cliff, my eyes nervously followed a small rock being catapulted down the steep drop. A single thought racing through my mind.
"The drums! It can't be that late already!"
Yet ears only were confronted by a sudden silence.
Without warning, my chest seized.
THUMP.
THUMP.
A savage blow rattled my bones. I staggered, hand clamped to my ribs as the pulse pounded through me. Between those brutal beats, a tiny itch.
A whisper slithered through the edges of my thoughts:Come, child...
A flicker of cerulean light danced at the bottom of the chasm before me. My eyes locked onto it, heart thundering in my ears.
Isn't it time to finish your training and forge your own destiny?The words curled around my spine like smoke. My shoulders sagged under some invisible burden, every muscle loosening.
The light pulsed again, forming a slender hand that hovered in the gloom. Its glow was soft, cool as moonlight on glass.You have given so much for so little. Come.
My fingers twitched, drawn to that phantom warmth. A gentle warmth spread from my chest outward, as if the light itself pressed against my ribs, coaxing me forward.
The hand hovered closer, its edges flickering like a candle in the wind. The breeze carried a hush, a lullaby woven from starlight. My lips parted—half in fear, half in longing—as a wave of serenity rolled through my limbs, urging me to reach out and meet the promise waiting in the abyss.
No." I jerked my hand back as if burned. "There are no shortcuts to power."
A cold tendril snaked into my mind, yanking my thoughts like a puppet's string. My neck snapped backwards, and the world tilted. Below me yawned the abyss—an undulating black mass pressing against the cliff's edge. Tendrils of darkness spilt upward, curling like serpents into the moonlit rock, devouring any trace of light.
Thorns piecing my mind, my eyes glued to the black mass dragging itself up the cliff. "Oh, child."
A cold spike of panic shot through me before my fingers even moved. Scrabbled at my skull, I almost felt nails scraping against bone. I couldn't tear out my brain, not even if I wanted.
My fingers clawing at my head. I couldn't tear out my brain, not even if I wanted to."The world is full of shortcuts. Sometimes you can skip them, but sometimes they are enforced upon you!"A slippery mass wrapped itself around my wrist. Unable to grab it, my other hand slipping off of it, I felt my body being dragged against my will.
"THE BLOOD PRICE HAS BEEN PAID!"
The words detonated in my skull, each syllable a hammer against bone. Stars of pain burst behind my eyes, and the world pitched as vision fractured into trembling shards of red and black.
"This is your purpose," the voice rasped, and another slick tentacle shot toward my arm like a viper striking its prey.
"I'd better see you at the ritual."A spark igniting a wildfire, a beacon blazed through my inner sea. With a twist of both my hands, I grabbed onto the tentacles. Applying all the force I had left, I simply pulled. "My purpose is my own!"
Ground giving in, my mind was primed on one thing and one thing only.Pull.Masses slapping my face, as I closed my eyes in anticipation of the fall. Until appendages wrapped around my every limb. I immediately struggled against their grasp. The liveless masses pressing down against my body felt surprisingly soft in my fingers. Ripping and tearing, another sudden surge of gravitation pulled me down. Back hitting the ground, I looked up at the starless sky.
So much for not fighting...
Vines slithered off my arms with soft, tearing snaps. The forest fell away behind me the moment the drumbeat hit my ears—low and insistent, drowning out the night's usual chorus of crickets and rustling leaves. Eachthumpsent a shiver through my spine, matching the quickening pulse in my neck.
Branches whipped past as I tore through the undergrowth. Moonlight spilled in pale ribbons where the trees parted, and I gulped in the cool air, letting it fill my aching lungs. Relief washed over me, heavy and sweet, but only for a heartbeat—my eyes were already locked on the giant drum ahead.
A line of figures moved toward it, silhouettes flickering beneath torchlight. My pulse leapt. A jolt of triumph warmed my chest: I had made it this far.
I pulled my hood low, weaving through the crowd until I reached the plateau's edge. The ground here was packed smooth, proof that countless hooves had thundered this way long before mine. Yet standing among them, I felt the dizzy excitement of belonging, of stepping into a story older than myself.
Around the clearing, torches burned in a loose circle. Their flames snapped and flickered in time with the drum's relentless rhythm, as if the fire itself were dancing to an ancient song. I took a cautious step forward, every sense alive to the crackle of wood, the murmur of chanting voices, and the deep, rolling heartbeat of the drum that called me home.
The crowd's murmur hushed as I spotted them: a lone figure in a cloak darker than midnight, festooned with dangling charms and carved talismans that caught the torchlight like runes come to life. Behind the shaman, a colossal boulder loomed—smooth, silent, and impossibly heavy. Everyone around me drew in a collective breath, eyes fixed on that stone and the ritual to come.
A sudden gust of wind slashed through the gathering, tugging at my cloak and tossing stray embers from nearby torches into the air. I snatched at the fabric, heart pounding as the chill wind carried a voice on its breath:
"Let the ritual commence!"
The words rolled over us—twisted, reverberating against the cave walls—and fell somewhere between a command and a challenge. I pressed through the silent crush of faces, every nerve alight, waiting for the moment the elder shaman would lift the boulder and our fate would be sealed.
Names all blending together, several candidates emerged from the mouth of the cave, themselves removing the boulder themselves, only to step through into freedom; others, defeated, lifted a tin bell and let its cleardingecho off the walls, marking their failure. My eyelids fluttered shut against the endless vigil, each heartbeat a drumroll of fatigue. The elder shaman's arms trembled as he hoisted the great boulder upward, and through the widening gap I glimpsed another figure stumbling into the night. A sudden gust snaked through the clearing, and on its breath came a name I knew too well—whispered so softly, I nearly crumpled.
"Gesmew Darkcreek!"
My eyes snapped open. Panic clawed at my chest. My eyes frantically searched for an answer that wasn't there.
"Gesmew Darkcreek!" The voice rang again, sterner this time. My legs trembled like reeds in a storm.
The cave door groaned wider, the air alive with electric tension.Where are you, Taima?I bit my lip, heart hammering, desperate for a sign.
"If Gesmew Darkcreek won't step forward, his place will go to the next candidate."
A single hoofbeat thundered against the stone floor as I lunged past the two figures ahead, cloak swirling, breath catching.
I'm so screwed.
My mother's face flashed before me.
Almost burning itself into my eyes, I couldn't look away from a strong light in the corner of my eye. From a distance, a tiny bright light burned itself into my inner eye. With an intense flash, that briefly lights up the surrounding darkness, a bright burst, fiery orange, red, or white, expanding rapidly and casting a momentary silhouette over the landscape. The light pulses outward, illuminating the clouds and distant objects with a flickering glow before fading back into the night.
A few seconds later, a deep rumble reverberated through the air. Muffled, like distant thunder, it echoed across the quiet night. Lingering briefly as a faint glow or haze on the horizon, followed by a thin column of rising smoke, faintly lit by the last remnants of the blast or the moonlight above. Then, as quickly as it came, the night swallows it whole, leaving behind only the memory of that fleeting burst of destruction. Stars light the open mountainside.
Panic exploded around me as my thoughts went into overdrive.Impossible! We are on the land side of the mountain, this is the complete other side of the mountain.One explosion would do the trick...It struck me.
That's what the commander met!The memory of the fireplace, surrounded by humans, flashed before my inner eyes.Wait, how many humans did we kill? Weren't there...
A sharp whistle cut through my train of thought. I immediately looked over to the boulder.Taima, you can't possibly mean to...Seeing the cave slowly close, I couldn't help but give in.
Into the panic-riddled mass, I lunged. Bodies slammed into me like a crashing wave, tearing at my cloak and pushing me sideways. My legs burned with each desperate push forward. I refused to dodge; every sidestep lost ground.
A jagged shard of pain flared in my shoulder as it buckled under the weight of the crowd. I tasted blood, where teeth had snapped shut on my lower lip. I spat out a curse, jaw clenched against the ache.
Then I drove my elbow back, fists gripping torn fabric and flailing limbs. Bone met bone with a crack that drowned out the roar of voices. Warmth spattered my arm as I forced a path through the tide of flesh.
My vision blurred at the edges, but I pressed on, elbow swinging, shoulder burning, until at last... the horde parted. Ahead lay a narrow gap—a fractured wall of panicked faces tearing away. I stumbled through it, gasping, blood and sweat stinging my eyes, not stopping until...
Pain in my shoulder faded to a distant throb. I blinked open my eyes to the cavern's dark maw yawning before me. Gritting my teeth, I launched myself forward—hands skidding across the cold stone until my chest slammed into the cave floor with a bone-shakingTHUMP.
Behind me, the boulder crashed shut, sealing me inside. The sudden weight on my back stole the air from my lungs; I rolled instinctively, exhaled in ragged gasps, and fought the urge to inhale too fast. Each breath came in stutters, hot and desperate.
When I finally pushed myself upright, I brushed ash from my cloak—and froze. The familiar weight at my side was gone. Panic bloomed in my gut as my hand darted to the pocket where it always rested. My fingers closed on nothing but tearing fabric and cold stone.
Even in the dark, I saw the empty pocket staring back at me like a wound.
My fur pricked as a sudden draft brushed across my face, cold and insistent. The cavern's darkness pressed in from all sides—so complete I could feel it gathering in my lungs. A whisper slithered through the gloom, soft as falling dust:
"Good luck, Nootau."
My skin rippled at the sound. Eyes darting, I probed the blackness with trembling hooves until they struck damp stone. A slick of moisture coated the floor, slick enough that each step felt like walking on wet glass. The rock beneath my fingertips was porous and crumbled at the slightest pressure, sending fine grit trickling between my claws.
I hesitated at the edge of a rough-hewn stairway descending into deeper shadow. The drop yawned before me—barely a few paces, yet enough to set my heart pounding. With a steadying breath, I forced my legs forward. Each hooffall echoed off the walls, a metronome counting down the seconds until I would have to trust the darkness completely.
A flicker of candlelight danced around the corner, pulling me forward. I rounded the bend and stepped into a chamber hollowed from stone. My breath caught at the sight: dozens of slender candles pooled their glow around a vast, rough-hewn table. Shards of bone and twisted talismans lay scattered across its surface, each glinting in the trembling lamplight as though hungry for my touch.
I trailed a fingertip over the cool, unyielding rock—its surface scarred with ancient runes—before drifting along the length of a bleached femur. The bone's marrow gleamed like pale glass, beckoning with some silent promise. I paused, heart hammering, and let the ornaments clatter softly behind me.
At the centre of the room, a scarlet carpet stretched out, its running patterns curling like veins. The crimson fibres swallowed the candlelight, pooling warmth underfoot and guiding me toward whatever fate awaited at the heart of this ritual.
My fingers brushed against the fabric—the carpet felt almost alive, the threads warm beneath my touch, like breath just beneath the surface. It wasn't softness I felt, but something deeper... as if the floor itself was calling me closer.
I sank to my knees, the weight of the moment pressing down with reverent finality. Now eye-level with the ancient altar, I watched the flames dance just beyond the rim of my vision, casting long shadows that swayed like spirits behind my eyelids.
I closed them, letting the silence press in. No rustle of wind, no distant drip of water—only stillness.
With bated breath I waited. And waited. And waited.
The silence pressed heavier with each heartbeat. When I finally opened my eyes again, the candles were still dancing—mocking in their gentleness, their little tongues of fire casting jittery shadows across the walls.
So now what?Was I meant to sit here and wait for something divine to whisper in my ear? The longer the silence stretched, the more the doubt scratched at the back of my mind.
My gaze fell again to the stone table. The dust across its surface seemed to ripple, trembling in the candlelight like breath caught between two worlds. My hand moved before thought could catch it. Fingers skimmed over the stone, trailing toward the candelabrum.
Warmth pulsed beneath the cold metal. I curled my fingers around it.
CLANG.
Pain dominated my every thought. Metal slammed into stone. The crash echoed like a war drum, shaking the air. I recoiled with a hiss, pain surging through my arm from my shoulder like lightning. The shock of it pulled the breath from my lungs.
I cradled my arm, chest heaving, as the sound faded into the cavernous dark.
Taima... if only she hadn't been so stupid and kicked all of this off, I would be in...
My fist struck the stone, knuckles cracking against unyielding earth. The light vanished.
Darkness surged in like a tide.
I didn't breathe. Didn't blink. I juststared—into the space where the candlelight had once been. A black so thick it felt like it pressed into my skin, filled my ears, curled around my ribs. No sound. No movement. Nothing.
So I let go.
And in that surrender, the silence consumed me—slow and vast, like a beast with no name. Every weight I carried lifted and dissolved, bleeding into the emptiness. Until there was nothing left of me but stillness.
A flicker.
A ripple across the void.
Not light, not sound, but something else. A sensation, like memory knocking on the edge of sleep. It rose from the dark like breath breaking the surface.
Water.
A face beneath it—half-formed, floating. Familiar in a way that struck something deep and primal in me. I reached for it without knowing why, drawn like a tide to moonlight.
"Nootau!"
I shot upright, lungs gasping like I'd just broken through a surface I didn't know I was under. The roar of rushing water overwhelmed everything. The world reformed itself as a stone hallway, slick and echoing, water lapping at my ankles.
A hand—rough, calloused—gripped mine and yanked me forward.
I flinched instinctively, expecting the bite of pain in my shoulder, that same dull ache it always left behind. But it never came. Instead, I blinked—and there she was.
My mother.
Not the worn figure who had watched me leave, but younger, softer. Her face lit by concern, not disappointment. Kneeling before me, her hands on my arms, steadying me. "Nootau? Are you okay?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came. My throat felt raw with silence.
A blur rushed past me, dragging my eyes along with it.
"Taima!" my mother called, standing halfway now. "Slow down, you don't want to get lost in the water temple again!"
I turned just in time to see the blur darting into another tunnel. The crystal tied to her braid caught the low light, casting a gleam on the walls. No mistaking that gait, that impatience. Same restless energy. Same trinkets strung along her younger, lighter, without the scars that adorned her last time I saw her.
My body moved on its own, feet splashing lightly as I stumbled forward, led by an unseen rhythm.A hand gripped mine again, firm but not unkind. "Thanks, Tokala. Could you look after him while I check on Taima?" my mother's voice drifted back, calm but already fading with distance.
I craned my neck, expecting an answer, and got only a low grunt in reply. My gaze met the face of the one pulling me—if it could be called that. Blank, unreadable. A scar carved across one cheek like someone had tried to write a story there and stopped midway. His eyes, or maybe just thespacewhere eyes should've said something, offered no explanation.
I didn't trust my own senses anymore. Sound warped around the falling water, stone corridors bending space like heat above fire.
Still, I followed, helpless under Tokala's silent guidance. The walls narrowed, then opened again—just as another turn revealed a larger chamber. Water poured down its sides in silver sheets, pooling into a smooth basin beneath a soft blue glow.
Others were gathered there. Young. Familiar.
At the front, a figure in a long, timeworn gown turned to face us. The robe dragged behind them like trailing mist, patched and threadbare, yet worn with undeniable dignity.
"Thank you for coming to our annual tour of the Water Temple," they said, voice crackling with age yet steady as stone. "If you follow me, we will continue."
For what felt like hours, the old guide spoke—words flowing like the very subject he praised. Currents, tides, sacred basins, the memory of oceans carved in stone. His voice droned on, soothing to some, but each syllable grated against me like sand in a wound.
I stood rigid. Not because I wanted to. Any attempt to fidget, to turn, to even scratch an itch was met with the unyielding pull of Tokala's grip. His hand clamped around my arm like iron wrapped in fur. My muscles burned—not from exertion, but from restraint.
"Leaving behind the strong current of this tide chamber," the guide announced, gesturing like a priest presiding over a sacred rite, "we will now enter the inner sanctum."
A shuffle of footsteps echoed against the wet stone as we moved again, corridor folding into corridor, spiralling deeper. How anyone knew where we were going was a mystery. To me, every passage looked the same—damp, echoing, eternal.
Then, we stopped.
Two massive doors loomed ahead. Their surface was etched with waves frozen mid-crash, like the sea itself had solidified into ancient runes. They opened slowly, rumbling like the groan of something too old to care.
The crowd surged forward with awe and giddy delight. I saw others break away from the line, talking, laughing, and touching carvings on the wall. Their joy grated against my skin like salt.
All around me, the others roamed freely. Some traced the ancient symbols with reverence, others poked fun at one another or spun in circles, their voices echoing off distant ceilings. Their freedom stung.
That's right,I remembered bitterly,I always hated the water temple.
"Please—I want to play too!"
The words tore out of my throat. My voice, higher than I remembered it, wavered, cracking at the edge.
The rumbling of doors opening captivated my eyes. The masses flooding the giant open room, admiring ancient drawings, tapestries.
Another tug at my arm, and the world twisted again. The warmth and echoing laughter of the sanctum fell away like a dropped veil, replaced by the cold stare of a blank stone wall. No murals. No colour. Just grey and silence.
"No."
The voice cut through me—not loud, but firm, low, final. The kind of word that settles deep into your bones. The vibration of it rooted me to the ground, my breath caught mid-sentence, spine locked upright,as if I were scared of any further response.
"But that's not fair! The others—"
My protest fizzled as I turned. The scarred face loomed again, etched deep across skin like someone had tried to carve out emotion and failed.
"I don't care about the others." His words dropped like stones. "Life's not fair. Better you learn that now."
I stared at the ground, jaw clenched, throat burning. I hadn't even noticed my hand trembling until something shifted in my palm. A small weight, smooth and slick like river-polished bone.
Flickers of motion in my peripheral vision—Taima.
Just the faint echo of her form slipping past. A finger brushed my shoulder—too gentle to be Tokala's. I turned my head, too late. All that remained was the blur of her braids and the tiny crystal bobbing behind her.
I looked down.
In my hand, a small white stone gleamed, almost too smooth to be with a strange warmth, like it breathed. It nearly slipped free again, and I fumbled to pass it to my other hand, shielding it with my body. My fingers curled protectively around passing it over to my other hand, I could already carefully pull them back.
One hoof already primed, muscles coiled like a spring, I shifted my weight—pop!My wrist slipped free, and for the briefest moment, everything held its breath.
Then—boom. The world snapped back into motion.
A gust of air whipped past my face, Tokala's fingers swiping the space my head had just occupied. I ducked instinctively, the movement raw and wild, and my legs kicked into action. The catapulting force shot me forward like a loose arrow.
Behind me, the startled shouts and scrambling of hooves barely registered. My mind tunnelled on the path ahead—narrow turns, surprised faces, a flash of trinkets.
Rushing water roared louder, and the echo of pursuit faded behind us, swallowed by tunnels and tide.
Finally, when our legs could carry us no farther, we collapsed near the edge of a pond, breath hitching, chests heaving. Feet dangling over the dark surface, we sat still for a moment.
Neither of us holding back anymore, we burst out in laughter. "Nootau, you should have seen Toakal's face! Priceless!"
"Thanks." Her fist bumped gently against my shoulder—more a tap than a punch, but it sent warmth radiating down my arm. I turned to look at her.
Eyes closed, grin stretched from ear to ear, the kind that made your own lips twitch whether you wanted to or not. That crooked, scrappy smile I'd seen a thousand times. But in that moment, it lit up the whole cavern.
"I couldn't let my best friend miss out," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
We lay on our backs, the cool stone beneath us, the rippling reflections of water dancing across the ceiling. The calm, the laughter, the serenity, we embraced it for who knows how long.
"Nootau! Where are you, Nootau!"
The shout sliced through the air, and I jerked upright, heart skittering in my chest.
"Dammit, it's your mom," Taima muttered, barely glancing back. A smirk tugged at her lips. "Come on, let's not make her wait."
I shook the water from my fur with a quick shake of my head, sending droplets flying. Taima had already moved ahead, her figure nothing but a blur behind the corner.
My legs surged beneath me, but before I could make a step, something yanked me backwards. A sharp tug, a slick sensation underfoot, and my balance collapsed like a pile of stones.
My foot slid, the ground betraying me, and I flung my arms out to catch anything—anything solid, but the air was empty. The world spun, and then—splash!Cold, biting water rushed up, swallowing me in one greedy gulp.
I flailed, sinking deeper, limbs thrashing wildly, but there was nothing to hold onto. Only the relentless push of the current, pulling me under, dragging me deeper into the darkness, where my breath caught in my throat.
The chill gripped my fingers, a numbness creeping up to my wrists. My limbs, heavy with sudden fatigue. Through the haze, a figure hovered above, only a dark outline against the murky depths. A hand broke the surface, and a sudden grip latched onto my shirt. Exhaustion pressed down as my eyelids drooped.
"It won't be so easy this time," the voice slithered through the water, its words cold, venomous, like the current itself.
My eyes snapped open, and something yanked me deeper, a current dragging me further down. A shape drifted before me, my body limp, as my mind spiralled into the depths.
"Will you flow like water or sink like a stone?" The words echoed in my mind, distorted and distant, like the whisper of the current itself.
The tide took me, a force stronger than any will I had left. It wrapped around my body, a vice of water that held me tight. My limbs were useless against it, dragged in every direction by the unyielding surge. The current was a roaring beast, swallowing me whole, its grip tightening with each passing second.
I struggled, but the deeper I was pulled, the less I felt like I belonged to my body. My chest ached, tightening in a vice of panic as the world blurred into a dizzying spin of shadows and blue. Every ounce of my strength was siphoned away by the depths, and my heart hammered painfully against my ribs.
I reached, desperate. My hands sliced through the cold, seeking any kind of solid ground, anything to anchor me. But the water was empty, just the endless pull of the abyss. My fingers brushed against nothing—only the dark, the cold, the weight of the water that seemed to smother every breath.
Every stroke felt weaker than the last, and the light from above dimmed, slipping further out of reach. My heart pounded, each beat echoing louder as I struggled to focus, to orient myself. There had to be an up, right? I twisted, turned, but the current pulled me into a dizzying spiral, making it impossible to tell.
I kicked harder, but every effort felt weaker than the last. The water only grew heavier around me, indifferent to my fight. I tried to twist, to orient myself, but the current spun me, dragged me down, making any sense of direction impossible. My lungs burned, screaming for air, and my heart pounded with a rising panic that threatened to consume me.
The water pulled at me, relentless and unyielding, swallowing every frantic kick, every desperate stroke. I closed my eyes for a moment, forcing myself to take one last steadying breath. In the darkness, a stone, a pebble, drifting past me, almost dancing around my body. I thought again of that question:Would I flow, or would I sink?
I relaxed, feeling the cool rush surround me, pulling me into its rhythm. Fighting the urge to struggle, I kept my movements calm, slow, and deliberate.
The first current grabbed me, sweeping me sideways. I tilted my body to match its direction, letting it carry me. Another shift in the flow pulled me downward. I stretched my arms, feeling out the push and pull of the water, guiding myself with small, gentle movements.
It was disorienting, the constant shifts and swirls, but as I let go, I started to feel the currents' language — a silent conversation. The push became a pull, the upward drift replaced the upward rush. Broken rays of light reflected off the unclear water surface in front of me. Carried by the waters, calmness engulfed me. Like the first ray of sunlight in the morning, I opened my eyes.
Through all the haze, a hand, now blankly stared back at me. Another air bubble escaped me as I reached out. Cold unnerved my fingertips. A sudden repulsive cold sensation pulled my hands back. Ice rolled in, completely freezing everything around me. Distorted, fractured, the light struggled to even break through.
The weight of the water crushed in around me, fingers almost clawing against a wall. My body fought instinctively, clawing and kicking, but I remained a prisoner in my body. Panic clawed its way up, tightening in my chest, and somewhere within that spiralling terror, a distant thought surfaced:"Will you reflect on your inner self or be a victim of your emotions and thoughts?"
Around me, a million reflections stared back at me. A pain and fear-stricken face, almost unrecognisable. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, staring back at me with a frantic, wild terror. A breathless, panicked expression, frozen. My chest rose and fell sharply, my mouth parted in a silent scream, yet no sound came. The once-familiar features I'd always known—now distorted, a grimace of fear, a stranger staring back at me.
A new crack rippled through the ice around my face, but the eyes—they were mine. My own gaze locked with mine, and for a moment, I was stuck, caught in a loop of my own fear.
But as my breath quickened, I saw it—the edge of my reflection. My breath hitched, and I glanced quickly at my shoulder, expecting to see something—anything—that wasn't the water. But there was nothing. No one. Just the cold, dark abyss, and the unrelenting current that pulled at my limbs.
But the warmth of that hand lingered. It wasn't the cold touch of the water; no, this was different.
I turned back to the reflection in the water. That same frantic face stared back at me, but something was different now. My own eyes, wide with terror, softened slightly.
The warmth didn't leave. It stayed, steady and grounding, a contrast to the darkness that threatened to pull me under. I could feel it, the weight of it pressing down on my shoulder—someonewas there, even if I couldn't see them.
The frantic panic. The fear. It didn't define me.
"It's okay to be afraid, Nootau," I told myself, as the water swirled around me. I wasn't fighting the panic now—I was observing it. Letting it exist, but not letting it control me. "I'll get through this. I've been through worse."
The chill was there, unyielding, but somehow softer. The shadows seemed to retreat, and as I opened my eyes, I could see it—the darkness lifting, the light breaking through in thin, bright bands. The hand was now staring back at me.
I didn't hesitate any longer. The soft brushing of the fur on my fingers pulled at me. The force dragged me upwards so fast, my eyes couldn't keep up. Blinded, I finally opened my eyes. Blackness encroaching my sight, the flicker of a dim light flashed me. Water splashing, I, at least, laid eyes on the stone table again.
Between the candles, a small orb floated on the table. It was nowhere near being perfectly round, yet its shifting surface harboured something. From time to time, water would drip down onto the altar, making its way down the stone block, almost carving a path into the solid stone. The sphere would show gaps, showing a glimpse of what it held. Captivating, shifting, it felt endless. Staring deep into it, it almost felt like something looked back at me. A sudden dread vanished before I could even picture it.
Sitting back down, I assumed a comfortable position while trying to focus again. An almost rhymical dripping captivated my senses. Water running down the stone table, my eyes were glued to its path. Quickly, greedily, the dirt consumed it. A warmth spread beneath me, soft and strange, as the earth shifted. First, it was only a hint, the faint rustle of leaves against soil. But then, in a surge of energy, I saw it—vibrant green tendrils unfurling from the ground, stretching out like fingers through the darkness, winding up toward me. Roots split through the soil, thickening and branching, feeding into a forest that hadn't been there a moment ago.
Leaves sprouted and spread, filling the air with their lush, wild scents as stems thickened, climbing and twisting. Small buds burst into blooms, scattering soft petals and seeds into the air like whispers of colour and life. Grass erupted in waves, a living carpet that rippled beneath my feet, pressing upward as if the entire forest was reaching, growing faster than I could breathe.
I could feel it all, the sudden pulsing of life beneath my feet—so insistent, so raw and unrestrained. The plants surged higher, transforming the space around me into a towering, tangled jungle of green and blossoms. In that moment, I felt both rooted and weightless, suspended in the midst of a world that had sprung to life in the span of a heartbeat. A crackle formed on my already reached out fingers.
A warmth spreads through me, the cold of the water fading as a memory stirs, a fleeting moment, distant yet vivid. I'm standing in a sunlit field, the scent of wildflowers thick in the air. I can hear the rustle of leaves, the gentle whisper of a breeze that makes the tall grasses sway. The sky is wide, endless, a soft blue that makes my chest feel light.
In those sunlit days, we would wander out to the fields together, my father sparring in the open with my brother, the sound of clashing sticks and laughter filling the air. Nearby, my mother kept close to my sister and me, weaving stories of her life as a shaman. Her voice would soften, hands tracing patterns in the air as she spoke of the Glimmering Shades—mystical plants, she said, connected deeply to the earth itself. When the ground welcomed them, they thrived; if not, they withered.
Sun's kiss warm on my face, my lungs drunk deep of the fresh air around me. Laughter behind me, I felt the blades of grass stride alongside me. I got up without even noticing it.I walked slowly, taking the time to feel every single blade of grass stride past me.
It didn't matter where I was going; the simple act of moving felt freeing. The weight of my thoughts, the tension in my muscles, all seemed to vanish with every step. Each stride felt lighter, more effortless than the last, as though the earth itself was guiding me forward, cradling me in its embrace.
I reached out a hand, brushing it across the long grass, the soft tips tickling my fingers. The sensation was grounding, something simple and real. My mind wandered without fear, without the heaviness of the past or the weight of the future. For a moment, I was just here, walking through a world where nothing else mattered.
The grass swayed in the breeze, but it wasn't the same kind of sway I remembered. The usual gentle rustle of leaves, the way they shifted with the wind in soft arcs, had become rigid, almost deliberate. Each blade moved, yes, but it was as if they were following a rhythm that didn't match the breeze. The motion was too exact, too mechanical, like they were mimicking life rather than embodying it.
I paused mid-step, my foot lifting just a bit higher than usual as I tried to make sense of it. The way the blades bent beneath me, there was no softness to them. The cool, damp feeling of the earth they usually grew from felt absent, replaced by something harder, more solid. The ground had become an unwilling partner, the grass no longer giving way with a satisfying bend but pressing back, almost as if it was pushing against me.
My gaze was almost pulled towards it. I drifted toward something unusual amid the flowerbed, a lone Glimmering Shade, but not like the others. This one seemed forlorn, almost struggling, with its once-vibrant leaves dulled to a splotchy brown and its petals drooping as if weighed down by something unseen. Unlike the healthy, vibrant green of the surrounding Shades, this one seemed cloaked in a tired, faded brown, and instead of its usual pure white blossoms, its petals were a sickly yellow, twisting into odd shapes. A strange energy clung to it, faint yet unmistakable, like a silent cry for help hidden among the healthy blooms.
I felt a pull in my chest, a need to do something. Without hesitation, I knelt, digging carefully around its roots until it came free. Cradling the weakened flower, I carried it over to the riverbed, where the earth felt softer, richer. My fingers moved quickly through the mud, and I planted it there, pressing the soil around its roots. Almost instantly, the flower's petals seemed to breathe, lifting toward the sun and regaining their colour.
"What are you doing there, Nootau?" My mother's voice came softly from behind, and she crouched beside me, watching intently. "I'm helping it grow, Mom", I beamed, pride warming my chest. She picked me up, her gaze filled with both surprise and pride. "You did this yourself, Nootau?" Her eyes shone as she held me close.
"Impressive, most would've crushed it; it's a delicate thing to move. Even some experts struggle with this. Well done, my little shaman." Confidence surged through me with my mother's hand on my shoulder. "Tokala! You got to this." Footsteps, as a jolt of pain sent a shiver down my spine. Goosebumps rushing over me, I shakingly turned. A scared stared me down. Eyeless, its piercing gaze froze me in place. The warmth, the comfort, and solace froze over in an instant. "Awendela, we already talked about his future." A fog rolled in as my eyes failed.
In the haze of memory, reality faded, and the earth beneath the flowerbed pulsed with a life of its own. The flower grew taller, towering until its shadow swallowed me in a silent eclipse. Suddenly, everything around me was gone, and the flower's roots twisted, breaking the soil with powerful force. They reached for me, a web of roots encircling the ground, stopping just before they touched my skin. Then, a voice—deep and calm—echoed from the air itself, grounding me.
"Child."
I lifted my gaze, heart thundering, to see the flower transformed, a woven figure of roots and tendrils, bending toward me, radiating an ancient presence. It moved closer, almost slithering, until I stood face to face with it, unable to look away.
"You have shown respect for life, an understanding beyond your years,"it intoned."From childhood, your connection to the Elements has grown, deep and true. Of all things, the earth speaks to you the clearest. Accept this gift, and move closer to the path of the shaman."
The creature extended a single root, hovering before me like an offering. Slowly, my hand reached out, fingers brushing the cool, fibrous tip. Light flooded over me, and when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the temple, the ancient air silent around me.
Before me, an earthly sphere floated above the altar, shifting in form and colour—a swirl of soil, rock, and metal, transforming in endless, beautiful variety. As it spun beside the water sphere, their energies intertwined, casting a glow that filled the cave.
I gazed around, searching for any sign of time's passage, yet the candles stood undiminished. A deep breath steadied me. I still had two tokens left to gather, and the journey awaited.
Settling back, I closed my eyes, seeking stillness as I focused on the flicker of memory. This time, it wasn't the solid pull of earth but a gentle, elusive sensation—a movement I could barely grasp. The air around me grew lighter, brushing against my skin like the flutter of unseen wings.
The wind held voices, whispers of distant places I'd never seen, carrying laughter, secrets, and ancient songs that were older than memory itself. I let it carry me, my feet barely touching the ground as I spun and danced, part of the current, part of the world. I listened, and there it was: the faintest murmur of wind, as if from somewhere deep within, distant yet powerful, calling me back to a different place. In that moment, I felt alive in a way I hadn't known before—untethered, free, part of something boundless.
Sitting alone on a high, sun-drenched hilltop, I looked around. The world stretched out before me, endless and vast, the sky above an endless expanse of clear blue. The breeze came in soft waves, lifting my hair and filling the air with scents of wildflowers and summer's warmth. I closed my eyes, feeling the wind wrap around me, lifting me slightly as if I might float away.
My gaze locked with a giant boulder. A quiet suspicion stirred in my mind, subtle yet persistent. But before I could fully grasp it, the feeling erupted—a jarring, overwhelming urgency that crashed into me like a cold wave. My pulse quickened, and an invisible force seemed to close in from all sides, pressing against me, shrinking the space around me. Grabbing hold of me, it tightened its grip with each heartbeat.
As I scanned my surroundings, the air around me began to shift, swirling faster and faster until it formed a barrier—a wall of wind that closed me in, cutting off any path to escape. The whirling currents stilled suddenly, condensing into a shape before me, shifting until it took on the form of a creature. Humanoid, smaller than me, it held itself with an eerie presence, its eyes glowing like yellow slits fixed directly on me. Face blank, a scar donned its face. An instinctive fear gripped my limbs.
A voice boomed, deep and resonant, reverberating like thunder. At first, it was just noise, an unintelligible rumble, but then the words became clearer, as if they were breaking through layers of fog. "Pathetic. Your fear got the better of you?" An empty mouth of yellow stared at me. Surging closer, I felt the electricity in the air. Inched from my face, a small crackle formed between us. Shock jolting through me, my muscles spasmed and twitched. Laughter, like thunder, echoed. "Just because you are chosen by the earth does not mean I will go easy on you. To earn my token, you must show me your understanding of the wind element. Prove yourself."
A blade of air sliced past my face, so close I could feel the sharp chill of it. I flinched, my thoughts scattering. The entity had already launched an attack, its power barely held in check. Another blade shot towards me, and I leapt aside, the edge of the gust just grazing my skin.
"If you can reach me, you will be granted my token. But don't waste time, or I might change my mind!" it challenged, voice dripping with taunt. It flicked its hand, and a new blast of air flew my way. I dodged quickly, noting that this one was vertically aligned—a clear chance to sidestep.
The entity sneered, its formless face somehow managing an arrogant expression. "Standing still will get you nowhere, Tauren!"
Not wanting to lose after already earning two tokens, I charged forward, determined. But halfway to the creature, a gust slammed into me, knocking me back several feet. I tumbled across the ground, scrambling to regain my stance.
"Is that the best you can do? Perhaps the earth was wrong to choose you," it mocked, its tone biting, as if amused by my struggle. Before I could react, it sent a barrage of air blades hurtling towards me. This time, three in rapid succession. The first and third were vertical, and the middle was horizontal. I managed to dodge the first two, slipping between them, but the horizontal one forced me to jump, barely clearing its sharp edge.
I lunged forward again, picking up speed, hoping to avoid the gust that had blown me back before. But as I reached the halfway point once more, the wind swept me off balance, shifting direction to follow me, pushing me relentlessly to the far end of the arena.
"Stubborn, but that isn't the way of the wind," the entity chided, disappointment colouring its tone. "To master the wind, you must understand its nature. What does it stand for?"
The words gnawed at me, yet I couldn't make sense of them in the heat of the moment. Lost in thought, I didn't notice the next wave of air blades hurtling towards me. Five this time, and arranged differently. The first two blades shot out in vertical tandem, and I managed to slip between them, but the remaining three were a horizontal wall, leaving no room to duck or leap. I crossed my arms, bracing myself. The blades struck, tearing at my skin and clothes, sharp pain flaring as they left shallow cuts across my arms and legs.
Blood trickled from the wounds, staining the ground in red droplets. The entity's glowing eyes narrowed with disdain. "Pathetic. You think you're worthy of becoming a shaman? You lack the backbone to see it through."
"Backbone..." The word lodged in my mind, sparking a new thought. I turned, facing away from the creature, and began walking slowly toward my end of the arena, keeping my steps steady, my back to the entity.
"You dare turn your back on me?" it growled, fury creeping into its voice. Behind me, I heard the familiar hiss of air blades forming, their edges whipping toward me with deadly intent. My senses screamed to move, to dodge, but I held firm, walking away even as the blades approached. Just as they reached me, they bounced harmlessly off my back, deflected as though they'd hit an invisible barrier.
"What trickery is this?" the entity's voice trembled with frustration. "The winds I command will not be mocked! I'll blow you away!" I continued my steady march, crossing the arena, barely registering the storm gathering behind me. Another powerful gust surged, but when it reached me, it dissolved into a gentle breeze against my back.
As I neared the other side of the arena, my steps slowed, a strange, instinctual chill brushing down my spine. The path seemed clear, but something unseen held me back. Then, without warning, the air grew dense and charged, humming with a presence that I couldn't see. The entity's voice cut through the silence, dark and probing.
"You think you understand the wind, yet you ignore what lies unseen. The air is more than a guide—it holds mysteries beyond your sight. Only fools walk blindly backwards, unaware of the currents shaping their path around them."
The atmosphere pressed in, thickening until it felt almost solid, like I was moving through water. Each step became harder, my progress halted by forces I couldn't see or fight against. My mind raced, frustration building as I struggled to push forward. I couldn't grasp what was stopping me, and yet there it was—an invisible boundary, refusing to let me pass. "What is this?" I muttered, feeling the helplessness mount, the urge to resist and break through even stronger.
The entity's voice answered, softer this time. "Air shapes all, even when it can't be seen. So do countless forces in life—the fears you refuse to face, the doubts you won't acknowledge. They shape you, even now. Perhaps this barrier is not what holds you back; perhaps it is what you carry within."
The words hung in the air, each one settling over me like a veil. I froze, the meaning slicing through me with quiet clarity. In all my efforts, I had been pushing forward, straining against the obstacles I thought were external. But now, in this rare moment of stillness, the truth became painfully clear. I wasn't fighting against something outside of myself—I was wrestling with everything hidden inside.
The words brought those hidden forces into the light, each one surfacing like a shadow coming into focus. My fears, woven so tightly into my thoughts that I couldn't see where they ended and I began. The fear of failure but more importantly, that damn scar. Almost burned into my inner eye, I couldn't think of anything else.
The weight of expectations, some placed on me by others, others I had constructed myself, pressing down like an invisible hand. Disappointing not just to me but also to my mother, after all she had sacrificed for me and my siblings. And disappointing Taima, after all we have been through today and her profession that she inevitably put on the line.
The silent doubts I'd ignored, believing that if I didn't acknowledge them, they'd simply disappear. Doubts about my choices, was this really what I wanted for the rest of my life? The doubts about living up to my mother's expectations. Or simply the doubt of my strength and endurance.
With each realisation, the air around me lightened, the resistance lessened. I took a breath, finally acknowledging these hidden forces. The weight eased as if the air itself recognised my humility. And as I released these unseen burdens, the path forward became clear once more.
As my thoughts settled into the air, so did the storm around me. The entity's furious form softened, clouds dispersing until only a gentle breeze remained. Its voice, now quiet and warm, whispered to me. "I see why the Earth chose you. You may be stubborn, but you understand. Take my token and go forth to your final challenge."
Raising a hand, I accepted the token by embracing the light, which made me awake inside the cave again. With a reassuring feeling, I opened my eyes to see a third sphere spinning in unison with the other two. The small sphere contained currents of swirling, almost imperceptible motion, creating a gentle hum and a subtle vibration in my hand. When I looked closer, I saw tiny sparks of static within the sphere, flashing for just a moment like lightning captured in the briefest of instants—echoing the storm's ferocity and unpredictability, but also its energy and life-giving force.
Not wanting to lose focus again, I tried to get back into a more relaxed position. For the last time that night, I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand—to find the last token.