The world is filled with sounds most people never hear.
The whisper of wind against the grass, the rhythm of a heartbeat under stillness, the faint hum of life energy flowing through the air like invisible threads.
Once, I thought those sounds were just… background noise.
Now I know they are the language of existence itself.
And I'm trying to learn it.
It's been months since Kael and I left the village—our past erased, our names buried. The world thinks we're dead, and maybe in a way, that's true. The Sam and Kael who once struggled to survive the forest no longer exist. What's left are two wanderers walking a path no one else has ever walked—a path between Hollow and Natural.
We've traveled through countless cities since then. Some bustling and bright, filled with color and music. Others dark and rotting from within, their smiles carved over hunger. But no matter where we go, the same truth lingers: power decides everything.
The Naturals walk as gods among men. They don't just use life energy—they breathe it, live it, embody it. And the Hollows? They kneel, unseen, unheard.
I used to think I understood why. But now, after everything we've learned, I realize… the gap isn't destiny. It's design.
Every night, after the roads quiet down, I sit by the fire with my notebook—an old, worn thing filled with scattered notes, sketches, and fragments of thoughts. Kael teases me for treating it like a holy text, but she still peeks over my shoulder whenever I write.
I've been trying to make sense of how we managed to resonate with life energy in the first place. Neither of us are Naturals. We shouldn't be able to do what we do. And yet, our cores—our hearts—beat with power that even trained Bearers would envy.
So I started breaking it down.
Step one: observation.
Step two: replication.
Step three: understanding.
It sounds simple when written out, but the truth? It's maddening.
Kael and I both reached resonance differently. For her, it was instinct—her wind moved with her emotions, wild and untamed. For me, it was discipline, the focus of willpower until my core obeyed. The contrast should've revealed the pattern… but instead, it shattered it.
There's no common thread between instinct and control. No universal path that I can trace. And yet, we both reached the same result.
That means there must be something deeper—a rhythm we both aligned with without realizing it.
Kael thinks I'm overcomplicating it.
"You're trying to find logic in something that was born from chaos," she says, lounging beside the campfire while the wind dances around her fingers. "Maybe it's not supposed to be understood."
"Everything can be understood," I tell her. "Even chaos follows a rule. We just haven't found it yet."
She gives me that half-smile, the one that says she thinks I'm crazy but admires me for it anyway. "You sound like a philosopher who hasn't slept in three days."
"I haven't," I mutter, flipping another page.
My notes are a mess of diagrams and arrows. The flow of life energy through different parts of the body. The rhythm of breathing under stress. The shift in aura when emotion changes. I've even started sketching out a potential breathing style—a method that could align the body's rhythm with the pulse of the world itself.
If it works, maybe one day a Hollow won't need to be born a Natural to wield power.
Maybe they could breathe their way into it.
It sounds insane. But then again, so did surviving the beast that nearly killed us.
Our travels have taken us through most of the western regions of Thalen. The closer we move toward the capital, the more controlled everything feels. The air is heavy, thick with the presence of powerful cores. You can feel the difference when a Natural walks by—like the atmosphere bends to their will.
So we blend in.
Two wandering "apprentices" serving under a minor noble's escort. Nobles love entourages—it makes them feel important. As long as we keep our heads low and our power hidden, no one questions our presence.
It's the perfect cover for what we're doing.
We watch them.
We observe every flicker of their energy when they train, every breath pattern when they channel their cores. Some inhale sharply before attacks, others exhale softly to stabilize their flow. It's all different, but there are similarities in the rhythm.
There's a pulse that connects all life energy users—a cadence between breath and intention. The Naturals don't even realize they're following it. It's instinctual to them.
For us, it's revelation.
Kael's the first to notice something new. "Watch their shoulders," she whispers during a sparring session between two yellow cores. "They relax before they strike. It's like they stop resisting the flow right before releasing it."
She's right.
Every Natural does it—the brief surrender before the surge.
That night, we experiment. I let my breath go, let the energy flow naturally instead of controlling it. It feels strange at first, like letting go of a rope I've been holding too tightly. But then… the power moves. Freely, smoothly, as if the world itself is lending me strength.
Kael grins. "See? Told you. Stop thinking so much."
"Maybe," I say, smiling faintly. "But I need to know why it works."
Weeks pass.
We travel through Eirenvale, Korthin, and Belveris—each city more corrupted than the last. The rich thrive on greed, the poor fade into dust. And through it all, we keep studying.
Every night, I write.
Every morning, I train.
And slowly, my notes become a system.
A theory.
A possibility.
I call it the Hollow Resonance Doctrine—a foundation for a breathing style that doesn't rely on the natural gift of Aether cores, but instead creates synchronization between body and the surrounding life energy through rhythm and emotion.
Emotion.
That's the key I keep circling back to.
Naturals use focus and will to guide energy. But what if emotion—the raw, unfiltered expression of the self—is the true trigger? What if power doesn't respond to intellect or control, but to honesty?
It's just a theory, but when I tested it… something changed.
During meditation, when I let my thoughts drift to everything I've felt—fear, anger, longing, hope—my life energy didn't just move. It sang. The air shimmered faintly, like it recognized the truth behind the emotion. My core pulsed stronger than ever before.
Kael saw it too. Her eyes widened. "Sam… your aura just shifted."
That was the moment I knew I was close.
But with every revelation, there's a wall waiting.
No matter how far we push, there's something… missing.
Like a puzzle with the last piece torn away.
I've compared our methods, recorded dozens of breathing patterns, analyzed Naturals from different regions—and still, I can't find the link that connects them all.
Something binds every living being to the flow of life energy, but it's not just the body or the mind. It's deeper. Fundamental.
And I can't see it yet.
Last night, as we camped near the ruins of an old outpost, I stared into the fire long after Kael had fallen asleep. My notes lay open beside me, pages fluttering in the wind. For the first time, I wondered if I was chasing a dream that wasn't meant to be caught.
Creating a path for the Hollows—a way to awaken them—it's more than just difficult. It's rewriting the laws of existence. The kind of act that would terrify kings and gods alike.
But then I remember their faces—the starving children, the broken families, the fear in every Hollow's eyes when a Natural walks by. And I know I can't stop. Not now.
Because if there's even a chance to change the balance of this world… I'll find it.
Even if it kills me.
As I was packing my notes, something strange happened.
The fire suddenly flickered blue. Just for a heartbeat.
The air thickened, like it was holding its breath.
And deep inside my chest—where my core rests—I felt a tug. A pulse that wasn't mine.
Kael stirred, half-asleep. "Sam? You feel that?"
I nodded slowly, my heart pounding. "Yeah. I think… something just answered."
She sat up, eyes wide. "Answered? What do you mean?"
I looked out into the forest where the wind had gone eerily still.
"I don't know," I whispered. "But whatever it was… it wasn't human."