Days turned like pages in a book Rin could not read.
He tried again and again at dawn, at dusk, beneath the hush of the forest but the result never changed. The Flux Crystal would stir, the world's breath would answer him… and then slip away. Every time he drew energy in, it vanished, dispersing into the air as though repelled by his very being.
Sometimes, he could almost see it faint ribbons of light curling away from his skin, unwilling to stay. Elden would smile gently and tell him to rest. Sana would laugh and call it "ghost light."But deep down, Rin knew it wasn't leaving.It was waiting.
Each night, that strange presence grew stronger. The energy didn't dissipate; it circled him, coiling closer with each breath, like mist around a forgotten flame.
A storm came soon after.
The rain fell heavy and sharp, drumming on the cottage roof like fingers on a drumskin. Rin sat near the hearth, turning the dim crystal in his hands, its glow faint as breath. Shadows rippled across the floor, stirred by the dance of the firelight.
He could still feel that hollow behind his ribs the space where others carried their Root Seal. It pulsed faintly, a hollow ache rather than pain. He pressed his hand against it, whispering,"I tried. I… can't hold it."
Elden's eyes softened, though worry lingered in their depths. "Some paths aren't meant to open quickly, Rin. Even Heaven takes time to breathe."
"But what if mine never opens?" Rin's voice cracked. "What if there's nothing there to open?"
The older man's answer came after a long silence. He reached forward, resting a steady hand on the boy's shoulder. "Then you'll make your own."
Outside, thunder rumbled like a promise. The crystal flickered once in Rin's hands faint, but alive.
By week's end, Elden was summoned to the lowlands to the Academy of Healers leaving Sana under the village's care. The journey down from the misted valley was Rin's first step beyond the world he knew.
The city of glassstone towers and glowing sigils felt like another world entirely. Floating lanterns marked the paths of students in pale robes, their Root Seals shimmering faintly beneath their skin like captive stars.Only Rin's remained bare.
He felt their eyes sometimes curious, uncertain. Whispers followed him like wind in a hall of echoes.
Karo found him one evening in the Academy archives a place of dust and silence, where the air itself seemed to hum with age. Shelves rose like stone ribs toward a high, vaulted ceiling, and candles burned low in iron sconces.
The old mentor's steps were slow but sure. His beard was streaked with silver, his eyes sharp beneath heavy brows.
"You've been trying the standard cycle?" he asked without preamble.
Rin nodded. "It… leaves. Every time."
"You mean the Flux won't root?" Karo's tone was calm, but there was curiosity beneath it a kind that searched, measured.
"It roots," Rin said softly. "But not in me. Somewhere else."
That answer made Karo pause. He gestured toward a nearby chair. "Sit."
Rin obeyed, uncertain.
Karo stood behind him, placing a weathered hand on the boy's crown. His palm was cool and steady, his breath slow. A faint light pulsed between his fingers pale, golden, like sunlight seen through water.
"This won't hurt," he murmured.
The air tightened. Rin felt a ripple through his body, as though his very veins were threads being traced. Karo's senses moved deeper beyond flesh, into the hidden lattice where the Root Network should have formed.
But what he found made him draw a sharp breath.
No network.No sealed channels.No emptiness, either but something other.
A quiet void, vast and unmapped, pulsing faintly like a sleeping star.
He withdrew his hand slowly. His gaze, when it met Rin's, carried both awe and unease. "You… aren't hollow," he said quietly. "You're unbound."
"Unbound?" Rin asked.
"Root Seals shape the flow of Flux, like rivers within stone. Yours is… open sea."
He turned toward a sealed cabinet in the corner, tracing a sigil through the air. Locks groaned, and runes flickered faintly before shattering into sparks. From within, he withdrew a thin, dust-laden volume bound in black thread the cover worn smooth with age.
"I shouldn't even show you this," he murmured. "This is but one part of a greater whole. The rest were scattered some destroyed, some hidden. What remains is fragment, but fragment enough."
The book's surface bore no title, only a spiral symbol lines folding inward around a single dark point, like an eye or a sun collapsing upon itself.
Rin tilted his head. "What is it?"
Karo's expression darkened. "A remnant from before the Root Seals. From when cultivation was… free .They called it the Dantina Method the Path of the Inner Void."
The name trembled through the air like memory.
Something deep within Rin answered. The hollow behind his ribs pulsed once faint but undeniable.
Karo's voice dropped lower. "The Dantina does not draw Flux into the body. It draws it through. The practitioner becomes a conduit a bridge between the seen and unseen. What forms is a second locus a heart beside the heart, unseen yet living. Dangerous. Forgotten. Most who attempted it were lost."
Rin reached forward and touched the cover. The spiral pulsed once beneath his fingertips, faint light rippling outward like ripples in dark water. The symbols on the spine shimmered briefly, then faded.
"You can read it?" Karo asked, astonished, watching Rin's eyes trace the swirling lines.
"I… don't know," Rin whispered. "It's like it's whispering."
The candlelight flickered. The air thickened.
Karo took a step back, the old instinct of a scholar witnessing the impossible taking hold. "Be careful. The text responds to intent. Even the fragment carries power."
But Rin was already breathing in rhythm with the diagrams, his breath syncing to the pattern inked upon the page inhale, silence, release. The Flux Crystal on the nearby table began to glow, drawn to him.
"Rin!" Karo began, but stopped.
The energy didn't enter the boy. It circled him, spiraling outward, shaping itself into a ring of faint light. The hollow in Rin's chest expanded, and for a brief instant, Karo saw it a small orb of light forming behind the boy's heart, pulsing with its own rhythm.
A Second Heart.
The room vibrated with quiet resonance. The books trembled. Dust danced in the air like ash in wind.
Then silence.
The glow faded, leaving faint motes of silver drifting in the stillness.
Rin opened his eyes. His breath came shallow, his skin pale, but his gaze was clear. "I didn't lose it," he whispered. "It just… needed a place."
Karo stood motionless for a long time. Awe and unease warred in his gaze. "You've built a second root," he said softly. "The first Dantina in a thousand years."
Rin looked down at his hands. The faint hum within him was steady now, distant but constant like a hidden tide."No," he said quietly. "It built itself."
The Flux Crystal on the table pulsed once slow, deliberate like an answering heartbeat.
Outside, lightning flashed over the valley.But this time, it didn't sound like warning.It sounded like awakening.