The transition from the mind-bending, soul-scraping Ritual of Mirrors to the world outside was so jarring it felt like getting sucker-punched by a rainbow.
One second, Elias was in that profound, obsidian darkness, wrestling with the literal ghosts of his past selves. The next, he was blinking in a light so pure and gentle it felt like a physical caress. The air—which wasn't really air, but something that carried scent and sound and the feeling of life—smelled of ozone after a rainstorm, of blooming flowers he couldn't name, and of something else… something like the quiet hum of a perfectly tuned engine.
He stood at the edge of a forest, but to call it a forest was like calling the Milky Way 'a bunch of stars.' The trees were pillars of living crystal, their trunks swirling with internal light, their leaves chiming softly against each other in a breeze he couldn't feel. The ground beneath his boots wasn't soil or grass, but a springy, moss-like substance that glowed with a soft blue bioluminescence. In the distance, rivers of what looked like liquid silver snaked through valleys, and the sky was a perpetual, breathtaking twilight, awash with colors that didn't have names—shifts of violet and gold and a deep, comforting cerulean.
"Okay," Elias muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "So the goth basement led to… fairyland on shrooms. Cool. Totally normal."
The Elder, who had materialized beside him without a sound, pulsed with a soft, amused gold. This is Aethel. The heart of our physical existence. The sanctuary within the sanctuary. It is… calibrated for peace.
"No kidding," Elias said, his voice a little hoarse. He took a tentative step forward, the glowing moss squishing softly under his foot. "It's… a lot. In a good way. Mostly."
He felt raw, like an open nerve. The ritual had left him feeling both lighter and heavier, the voices of Felix, Elio, and the Phoenix now a quiet, integrated chorus in the back of his mind instead of a screaming mob. He could still feel Felix's grim pragmatism, a solid weight in his gut. Elio's yearning was a faint, constant ache in his chest. And the Phoenix's weary guilt was a cold shroud around his shoulders. But they were his now. Not enemies, but… advisors. A messed-up, internal council.
"So," he said, turning to the Elder, forcing a casual tone that felt utterly absurd given the circumstances. "What's the plan, Stan? You gonna teach me how to be a proper cosmic cheerleader? Pom-poms made of nebulae? Because I have to warn you, my high kicks are… tragic."
The Elder's form shimmered, and for a second, Elias could have sworn it was trying to approximate a human smile. The plan, Elias, is to teach you finesse. You are a sledgehammer in a universe of watchmaking. You have power, yes. A frankly terrifying amount of it. But you wield it like a child throwing a tantrum in a china shop.
"Hey," Elias protested, but there was no heat in it. He thought of the atomic tear, the raw, desperate blast that had disintegrated one of the 26. "Okay, fair. The china shop might have a point."
Your defiance is your strength, the Elder thought, its mental voice patient, like a professor addressing a gifted but reckless student. But defiance without direction is just noise. We will teach you to make it a song. Come.
It gestured, and a path of light solidified before them, leading deeper into the crystalline forest. As they walked, Elias saw more of the Vash'tari in their physical forms. They weren't just shimmering thought-constructs here. They had bodies, graceful and humanoid, with skin that held a faint, pearlescent sheen and eyes that were pools of calm, intelligent light. They moved with a serene, unhurried grace, tending to the glowing plants or simply sitting in meditation, their forms humming in harmony with the world around them.
They all looked up as he passed. Their gazes weren't hostile, but they were intense. Curious. He was the anomaly, the glitch in their perfect, peaceful matrix.
"Feels like the first day at a new school," he mumbled under his breath. "And everyone knows you're the kid who set the last one on fire."
They are not judging you, the Elder corrected gently. They are… sensing you. Your emotional state is a new flavor in their environment. For a species that communicates through shared feeling, you are a very loud, very complex symphony.
"Great. So I'm the heavy metal concert in their yoga retreat. Even better."
They arrived at a clearing. In the center stood a single, magnificent tree, larger than any other, its crystal branches forming a natural, cathedral-like dome. Beneath it, an older Vash'tari male sat cross-legged on the moss. His "hair" was like strands of spun silver light, and the patterns on his skin moved slower, more deliberately, than the others. This was Master Kael.
As Elias approached, Kael opened his eyes. They were the color of a calm, deep ocean.
"So you're the messiah," Elias said, plopping down on the moss opposite him without ceremony. "No pressure, right?"
Kael's lips—actual, physical lips—quirked into a faint smile. "The title is… cumbersome. I prefer 'teacher.' And you are a student who talks too much."
Elias blinked. A spoken voice. It was rich and calm, and it felt more real, more grounding, than the direct psychic communication. "You can talk. Like, with the mouth and everything."
"An affectation I find useful when dealing with more… biologically linear beings," Kael said, his smile widening slightly. "It helps to have a focal point. Now. Are you done assessing the strangeness of your surroundings? Can we begin?"
Elias let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Yeah. Yeah, let's begin."
"Good." Kael held up his hand. On his palm, a single leaf from the great tree rested. It was a perfect shard of emerald crystal. "Your power is defiance. You tell the universe 'no.' I want you to tell this leaf 'no.'"
Elias stared at it. "…No to what, exactly?"
"To being seen."
Elias frowned. He focused on the leaf, summoning the feeling of defiance, the same raw will he used to fly, to fight. He pushed it at the leaf.
Nothing happened.
He pushed harder. He gritted his teeth, his brow furrowing. He imagined walls around it, boxes, sheer force of will.
The leaf continued to sit there, glittering innocently on Kael's palm.
"This is stupid," Elias grumbled, slumping back. "I can throw a spaceship with my mind, but I can't hide a leaf?"
"You are trying to force it," Kael said, his voice patient. "You are a sledgehammer. I am asking you to be a locksmith. The leaf does not understand your 'no.' It has no concept of 'seeing.' You must persuade the light around it. You must convince the photons themselves that this space is not a valid path for them to take. It is not an act of domination, Elias. It is an act of… negotiation."
Elias stared at the leaf, a new understanding dawning. It wasn't about the object. It was about the rules governing the object. He wasn't defying the leaf; he was defying the law of optics.
He closed his eyes. He stopped pushing. Instead, he felt. He felt the ambient light, the tiny, energetic particles bouncing off everything, carrying information. He focused on the space occupied by the leaf. He didn't build a wall. He… suggested. He poured his will into a single, quiet, unshakable notion: This is not a place you can be.
He opened his eyes.
The leaf was gone.
Not vanished. There was no flash, no pop. It was simply… absent. A leaf-shaped hole in reality sat on Kael's palm. He could see the texture of Kael's skin through the space where the leaf was, but the leaf itself had been edited out of the visual data stream.
"Holy shit," Elias breathed, a grin spreading across his face. "I did it. I just gaslit a photon."
Kael nodded, a genuine look of approval in his ancient eyes. "Now. Make it tangible."
The grin vanished. "You want me to… what, convince atoms they can't touch each other?"
"Precisely."
Elias groaned, flopping backwards onto the soft, glowing moss. "Dude. You're killing me. I just pulled off the greatest magic trick in history and you're already moving the goalposts."
"The 26 will not wait for you to master one trick at a time, 'dude'," Kael said, the unfamiliar slang sounding strangely dignified in his calm voice. "Now. Sit up. We are just getting started."
For hours, they worked. Elias moved from the leaf to a small rock, his focus shifting from manipulating light to manipulating atomic bonds. It was infinitely more complex. It felt like trying to individually convince trillions of people in a screaming crowd to all hold hands and then suddenly let go, on his command. He failed. Over and over. The rock would flicker, become momentarily fuzzy, but never fully intangible.
He was drenched in a sweat that had nothing to do with physical exertion. His head throbbed. It was mental gymnastics of the highest order.
During a break, as he lay panting on the moss, a young Vash'tari woman approached, carrying a cup made of woven, glowing vines. It was filled with a liquid that shimmered with a soft, internal light.
"Master Kael thought you might need this," she said, her voice melodic. "It helps with psychic fatigue."
Elias took the cup. "Thanks." He took a sip. It tasted like cool mint and starlight, and he immediately felt a soothing clarity wash over his frayed nerves. He looked at her properly.
It was a young Vash'tari woman, her form silhouetted against the glowing crystal trees. She moved with a grace that made the air itself seem to part for her. And her face...
His breath caught in his throat.
For a heart-stopping, universe-shrinking second, it was her.
The same gentle slope of her nose. The same way her eyes were set, holding a light that seemed to understand things on a fundamental level. The same quiet, grounding presence that had always felt like coming home.
"Sienna...?" The name was out of his mouth before he could stop it, a raw, whispered prayer.
He scrambled to his feet, his exhaustion forgotten, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He took a half-step forward, his hand almost reaching out.
She looked like Sienna.
The woman—not Sienna, not Sienna, you idiot—flinched back. Hard. Her luminous eyes widened, not with recognition, but with startled alarm. The serene harmony of her form flickered with a spike of pure, psychic "EEK!"
The sound wasn't audible, but Elias felt it—a sharp, high-frequency pulse of surprise that echoed in the quiet clearing. She took a quick step back, clutching the cup she was holding like a shield.
The spell shattered. The moment broke.
Elias froze, his own face flushing with a heat he hadn't felt in what felt like centuries. "Oh. Uh. Wow. Sorry. My bad. You're... you're not her."
The woman—Lara, he would learn—slowly relaxed, her form settling back into its gentle glow. The alarm in her eyes softened into a bewildered curiosity. "I... am Lara," she said, her voice indeed like wind chimes, but now tinged with a hint of wariness. "Master Kael thought you might need this. For psychic fatigue." She cautiously extended the cup of shimmering liquid.
Elias took it, his movements awkward. "Right. Lara. Cool name. I'm Elias. The... loud one." He took a quick gulp of the drink. It was like drinking liquid peace and quiet. "And, uh, again, sorry for the whole... y'know. Freaking you out. You just... look a lot like someone I used to know. Someone who... yeah."
Lara studied him, her head tilted. The last of the wariness faded, replaced by that deep, Vash'tari curiosity. "Your emotions... when you saw me, it was like a supernova. A very... loud supernova." She paused, searching for the word. "It was... intense."
"Tell me about it," Elias mumbled into the cup. "My bad. I'm basically an emotional bull in a psychic china shop."
A small, genuine smile touched Lara's lips. "It is... interesting," she repeated, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned to leave. "Do not break yourself on the rocks, Elias. We have only just begun."
As she walked away, Elias let out a long, slow breath he felt like he'd been holding for three lifetimes. He looked down at the ordinary, un-intangible rock. The ghost of Sienna's face was superimposed over Lara's in his mind, a beautiful, painful echo.
Master Kael, who had observed the entire exchange with an expression of deep amusement, finally spoke.
"Finished?" the old teacher asked, his dry tone cutting through Elias's turmoil.
Elias scowled, draining the rest of the star-mint drink. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get back to convincing this rock it doesn't exist. Honestly, after that, it sounds relaxing."
He focused again, pushing the whirlwind of emotions aside. This time, when he reached out with his will, the rock didn't just flicker. It vanished from sight, and his fingers passed through empty air where solid matter should be.
Master Kael gave a slow, approving nod.
"Good," he said, a glint in his ancient eyes. "Now that your personal drama has concluded for the moment... let's try something bigger."