The village square was quiet that morning, but it carried a strange weight. Kael and I were summoned with the others—not children this time, but young men and women of age, those the elders had chosen to finally teach the truths behind the Naturals' power.
The circle of stone was carved deeper than I remembered, runes etched in spirals that seemed to shift with the morning light. The elders stood at the center, their eyes as sharp as blades, their presence heavy with unseen force.
I felt Kael shift beside me, restless, her wind stirring faint eddies of dust around her feet. She leaned close and whispered, "Why now?"
"Because we're not children anymore," I murmured back. "And because they think we're ready to understand."
The oldest of the elders, a woman whose hair was as white as mountain snow, raised her hand. The murmurs died instantly.
"You have all trained. You have all struggled. Some of you have tasted victory. Some of you have known only failure. But today, you will learn the truth of what separates the strong from the weak, the Naturals from the Hollow, the disciplined from the lost."
Her voice carried, firm but patient. "All power begins in the flow of Aetherka. But raw energy is nothing—it is like water without a vessel. To wield it, one must shape it. Anchor it. Form a core."
The crowd shifted uneasily. I heard a few gasps, whispers. Even Kael leaned forward, eyes locked on the elder.
"There are two paths," the elder continued, drawing two symbols in the dust with the tip of her staff.
The first was a circle placed within a head. "The Weaver's Path: the Mental Core, formed in the brain. It allows the Natural to think, imagine, and command Aetherka with speed and clarity. A Weaver is not merely one who throws fire or calls wind—they are one whose mind itself becomes a furnace of creation."
The second was a circle within a chest. "The Bearer's Path: the Life Core, formed in the heart. It gathers energy within flesh and bone, fortifying the body until it transcends mortal limits. A Bearer is not merely one who grows strong—they are one whose every heartbeat resounds with power."
The elder paused, her gaze sweeping over us. "To be born attuned is not enough. You may summon flame. You may harden your skin. But until you forge a core, you are nothing more than a pretender. A true Natural is one who has anchored their energy into being."
Another elder stepped forward, a tall man with scars lining his arms like rivers. He struck the ground with his staff, and the earth pulsed faintly with color.
"There are nine levels of cores known to us," he declared, voice booming. "Nine steps on the path to mastery. Level One begins in shadow—the Black Core, dim and unstable. From there, power climbs: Red, Yellow, Green, Brown, Pink, Orange, Purple, and finally, the Blue Core, the highest known to exist."
He drew the colors in the dust as he spoke, each glowing faintly with a shimmer of Aetherka. The light of the Blue lingered longest, humming with an almost celestial vibration.
"With each stage," he continued, "the strength of a Natural grows tenfold. A Level One can barely call themselves awakened. A Level Five shakes mountains. A Level Nine… bends the world."
The air seemed to still after his words, as though the wind itself bowed in reverence.
I saw the awe in the faces around me, the hunger in their eyes. Even Kael's lips parted slightly, caught in the vision of what could be.
Then the first elder spoke again, quieter now. "But hear this warning. To form a core is no simple act. It demands focus. Pain. Sacrifice. A Weaver must endure the burning of their thoughts until the forge within their mind is kindled. A Bearer must withstand the crushing weight of their own heart as it hardens into stone. Many attempt. Few succeed."
She looked over us, eyes piercing. "Those who fail… are often broken."
A hush fell.
I felt Kael's hand brush mine briefly, a fleeting touch, gone before anyone noticed. It steadied me more than I cared to admit.
The teachings ended with rituals and instructions, guides to meditation, breathing, the beginning of core-forging. The Naturals left with excitement, their paths laid clear before them.
But Kael and I lingered.
When we were alone again in the grove, she broke the silence first. "A core…" She laughed once, a breathless sound. "Of course. That's why we've always been different. We never had the anchor."
I nodded slowly. "And now we know what to build."
Her eyes flashed. "You heard them, Sam. If we fail—"
I cut her off gently. "We've already lived with failure, Kael. Every day they called us Hollow. Every day we were left behind. We've carried that weight already. What's one more risk?"
For a long moment, she was silent. Then she nodded, determination lighting her face.
"Then let's try."
We began that night.
Kael chose the path of the Weaver. She sat cross-legged, spine straight, hands pressed lightly against her temples. I watched her breathing slow, her gaze softening until her eyes drifted shut.
The air stirred around her, threads of wind curling into spirals, as though drawn into her mind itself.
"I have to sharpen it," she whispered once. "Focus it. Make it burn bright enough to leave a mark."
Her brow furrowed, lips tightening. Sweat trickled down her skin as she forced her thoughts into order, weaving them tighter, faster, sharper. The wind howled softly, then roared, then stilled again.
Hours passed. When she opened her eyes, they glowed faintly with a strange light, and she gasped.
"I… I felt it," she said, voice trembling. "A spark. Deep in my mind. Like a seed waiting to grow."
I smiled, pride swelling in my chest. "Then you've taken the first step."
My path was harder.
The Bearer's way meant forging the heart itself into a vessel. It was not thought, but weight—pressure drawn inward until the body itself became a crucible.
I lay on the ground, hand pressed against my chest, listening to my own heartbeat. Steady. Heavy. Weak.
I breathed deep, drawing in the Aetherka around me, letting it seep into my veins, my bones. I did not command it—I pressed it inward, forcing it toward the rhythm of my heart.
At first it slipped away, dissipating like smoke. Again and again, I tried, only to feel it scatter. My chest ached, my breath grew ragged.
But then… something shifted.
The pulse in my chest grew heavier, deeper, as though it were striking an anvil inside me. Each beat echoed not just in my ears but in my bones, in the earth beneath me.
And then, for the briefest instant, I felt it: a weight coalescing in my heart, dense and dark, like a stone forming under pressure.
I gasped, my body trembling, sweat soaking my shirt. But I smiled.
"I felt it too," I whispered into the night. "The first stone."
The days that followed were brutal.
Kael meditated until her mind bled thoughts into flame, pushing toward that flicker of a core. She would stagger from her trances pale and dizzy, but always with fire in her eyes.
I trained until my chest felt ready to burst, pressing energy inward until the weight grew unbearable, then pressing harder still. I would collapse, gasping, heart hammering as though it might shatter.
We encouraged each other. Carried each other. Held each other up when the strain nearly broke us.
And slowly, we began to change.
Kael's wind grew sharper, more precise, her control so fine she could split leaves midair without touching them. I could feel the hum in her mind, the beginnings of a true Mental Core forming, stabilizing her resonance into clarity.
My own body grew heavier, stronger, my strikes carrying not just weight but presence. The forming Life Core in my chest lent me endurance I had never known—each beat a drum of strength, each breath a furnace of power.
We were no longer Hollow.
We were no longer shadows.
We were standing on the first rung of the Ninefold Path.
One evening, as we rested beneath the stars, Kael spoke softly.
"Sam… when my core blooms, it glows black. Like they said. But it's there."
I nodded, touching my chest. "Mine too. Black, but real. The beginning."
She smiled faintly, eyes shining in the moonlight. "Then we've proven them wrong already."
I returned the smile, my heart beating steady, heavy, alive.
"No," I said. "We've only just begun to prove them right."
And as the wind whispered around us, and my chest echoed with the forge of life, I knew: the Hollow were gone.
In their place, the Echoes had begun to rise.