Dawn broke over Azuremist in ribbons of lavender and gold, finding Arin already awake, the previous day's accidental healing replaying in endless loops—the surge of power, the child's wide eyes, the whispers that followed.
Sleep had proven elusive, partly due to the unfamiliar surroundings of the guest quarters Sera had arranged—a small but elegant room where the furniture seemed to have grown rather than been built, and the walls pulsed with gentle bioluminescence that responded to emotional states. Mostly, though, it was the Qi itself that kept Arin awake, flowing through newly expanded channels like a river that had broken its banks, seeking new territories to flood.
"This must be what it feels like to chug ten espressos and then lick a battery," Arin muttered, pacing the small room for what felt like the hundredth time. "Fantastic."
A soft chime announced a visitor moments before the door—which wasn't quite a door but more a section of wall that decided to become permeable—admitted Sera. The ancient Aetherii looked as fresh and unwrinkled as if she'd slept for a week, her eyes sharp as they assessed her charge.
"You did not rest," she observed, making it sound like a personal failing rather than a consequence of having one's entire energetic system rewired overnight.
"Gee, what gave it away? The bags under my eyes or the fact that I'm practically vibrating?" Arin demonstrated by holding out a hand that indeed trembled with excess energy.
Sera made a sound that might have been a snort. "Your species relies too heavily on sleep. The Aetherii require only meditation to restore themselves."
"Well, unfortunately, I'm still running on human hardware with some very buggy Qi software installed," Arin retorted. "So unless you've got a cosmic IT department that can help with the integration issues, I'm stuck with this sleep-dependent body."
"Perhaps not as dependent as you believe," Sera replied cryptically. She approached, her movements fluid despite her apparent age, and placed gnarled fingers on Arin's temples. "Be still."
Before Arin could protest, a cool sensation flowed from her touch, like mint-flavored water trickling through overheated circuits. The chaotic energy that had been bouncing around all night suddenly calmed, finding proper channels and settling into a more manageable flow.
"Oh," Arin breathed, shoulders dropping as tension released. "That's... better. What did you do?"
"A simple harmonization technique," Sera explained, withdrawing her hands. "Your Qi is powerful but undisciplined, like a child with too much strength and no control. I merely showed it where to go."
"Could you have done that last night? Before I spent hours staring at the ceiling counting those weird glowing spores that keep floating through the air?"
"You needed to experience the discomfort," Sera replied, utterly unapologetic. "Understanding what unbalanced Qi feels like is the first step toward learning to balance it yourself."
"Has anyone ever told you that your teaching methods are somewhat sadistic?"
"Frequently," Sera confirmed with what might have been pride. "Now come. Healer Voss awaits us at the training grounds, and he is considerably less patient than I."
"That's hard to imagine," Arin muttered, but followed her through the not-quite-door and into the morning light.
Azuremist was even more breathtaking by day. What had seemed merely ethereal in the twilight now revealed itself as a masterpiece of symbiotic design—buildings that were partially living organisms, pathways that adjusted their width and texture to accommodate different types of movement, gardens where plants communicated their needs through color changes and were tended accordingly.
The village's inhabitants went about their morning routines, still casting curious glances at the stranger in their midst, but with less wariness than before. News of the healing had clearly spread.
"Is it my imagination, or are people looking at me differently today?" Arin asked as they walked.
"You saved a child from ward-sickness," Sera replied. "That earns you consideration, if not yet trust."
"I'll take consideration. It's a step up from 'potential threat to be eliminated.'"
They passed through what appeared to be a market, though unlike any Arin had seen before. Instead of currency, the Aetherii exchanged small crystals that glowed with different intensities—some sort of energy-based barter system, perhaps. The goods themselves were equally foreign: fruits that changed color as they ripened not just on the outside but throughout their transparent flesh; tools that seemed partially alive; clothing that shifted its weave according to the wearer's body temperature.
"This is incredible," Arin admitted, pausing to watch an Aetherii craftsman shape what looked like liquid metal using only directed Qi. "Your entire society is built around energy manipulation."
"Qi is the foundation of all things in Elysion," Sera confirmed. "From the smallest seedling to the greatest city, all is connected through the flow of Celestial Qi."
"And in my world—the Shadowlands—we can't perceive it at all?"
"Some can," Sera corrected. "Those your people call mystics, shamans, healers of the old ways—they glimpse echoes of the true energy. But the veil between worlds has grown thicker over the millennia, and such sensitivity has become rare."
They left the village proper, following a path that wound up a gentle slope toward an open area bordered by what appeared to be training equipment—though like everything in Elysion, it defied easy categorization. Some pieces looked like traditional workout gear reimagined by someone with a very loose grasp on physics; others were simply floating orbs of different colors and densities.
Healer Voss awaited them, his obsidian skin gleaming in the morning light, the silver patterns flowing more rapidly than Arin remembered—perhaps an indication of alertness or anticipation.
"You're late," he observed, though the position of the sun suggested they were precisely on time.
"Forgive us," Sera replied, not sounding remotely apologetic. "Our visitor required harmonization."
Voss's silver eyes assessed Arin with clinical precision. "The expansion progresses faster than expected. Interesting."
"If by 'interesting' you mean 'kept me up all night feeling like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket,' then yes, fascinating stuff," Arin agreed dryly.
The healer's patterns flickered in what Arin was beginning to recognize as amusement. "Discomfort is the body's way of acknowledging transformation. Be grateful—pain means growth."
"You and Sera should start a motivational speaking tour. 'Suffering: The Path to Excellence.' You'd make a fortune."
Voss ignored the sarcasm, gesturing to the open space before them. "Today you begin the Seven Forms—the foundational movements that will help you structure and direct your Qi."
"Like martial arts?" Arin asked, thinking of tai chi and its flowing movements.
"A crude comparison, but not entirely inaccurate," Voss allowed. "The Forms are both physical and energetic disciplines. The body moves, the Qi follows, and eventually, the two become one expression of will."
"That sounds... complicated."
"It is," Sera confirmed cheerfully. "Most Aetherii children spend years mastering the First Form alone."
"Years?" Arin blanched. "I don't think I have years to spare here. I'm still hoping to find a way home at some point."
Voss and Sera exchanged one of those meaningful glances that Arin was really starting to hate.
"The training is necessary regardless of your ultimate destination," Voss stated firmly. "Your Qi channels have been activated and are expanding rapidly. Without proper control, you risk harming yourself and others."
"Like what happened with the Veilstalker," Arin remembered. "The energy just... exploded out."
"Precisely. Raw power without direction is merely destruction waiting to happen."
"Fine," Arin sighed. "Seven Forms it is. Where do we start?"
Voss moved to the center of the training area, his movements so graceful he seemed to float rather than walk. "Observe the First Form: Foundation."
What followed was both simple and impossible. Voss began with a basic stance, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Then he moved through a series of positions that somehow managed to be simultaneously fluid and structured, each flowing into the next with perfect precision. As he moved, the silver patterns on his skin brightened and dimmed in rhythm with his breath, creating a visual representation of energy flowing through his body.
It looked easy—deceptively so, as Arin would soon discover.
"Now you," Voss instructed when he had completed the sequence.
Arin stepped forward, attempting to mimic the stance. Immediately, Voss shook his head.
"Your weight is too far forward. You must be rooted, like a tree drawing strength from the earth."
Arin adjusted, only to be corrected again.
"Your shoulders create tension that blocks the upper channels. Relax them."
Another adjustment, another correction.
"Your breath is shallow and irregular. The Qi follows the breath. Inhale to the count of seven, hold for three, exhale to the count of seven."
On and on it went, each minute adjustment feeling insignificant until suddenly, something clicked. Arin found the proper stance, the proper breath, and felt the Qi respond—flowing more smoothly, more predictably through its channels.
"Better," Voss acknowledged, though his tone suggested 'better' was still leagues away from 'good.' "Now, the first movement."
The morning stretched into afternoon as Arin struggled through the First Form, each position requiring dozens of attempts before achieving even a passable imitation of Voss's fluid grace. The Qi responded unpredictably—sometimes flowing too strongly, creating visible manifestations of energy that startled even Voss; other times barely responding at all, as if sulking over being directed rather than allowed to run wild.
By midday, Arin was drenched in sweat, muscles trembling with exertion, and thoroughly frustrated.
"This is impossible," Arin declared, collapsing onto the ground after a particularly unsuccessful attempt that had ended with a small explosion of energy singeing the grass. "My body doesn't move that way, and the Qi has a mind of its own."
"The Qi has your mind," Sera corrected from where she sat observing. "It responds to your intentions, both conscious and unconscious. Your frustration creates resistance."
"Well, I'm sorry if repeatedly failing at alien yoga makes me a little testy," Arin snapped.
Voss, who had been watching with increasingly thoughtful expressions, suddenly approached. "Perhaps we are approaching this incorrectly. The traditional method assumes a lifetime of gradual development. Your situation is... unique."
He circled Arin, silver eyes narrowed in concentration. "Your Qi does not flow like an Aetherii's. It... pulses. Expands and contracts rather than circulates smoothly."
"Is that bad?" Arin asked, immediately concerned.
"Not bad. Different." Voss stopped, coming to some decision. "Stand."
Arin complied, wincing as sore muscles protested.
"Close your eyes," Voss instructed. "Forget the Form for now. Instead, feel your Qi as it is—not as it should be according to our traditions, but as it exists within you."
This was easier said than done, but Arin tried, focusing inward on the strange energy that had become a constant companion. It did indeed pulse rather than flow smoothly, expanding outward from the core before contracting again, like a heartbeat or...
"Like breathing," Arin murmured, suddenly understanding. "It's like breathing."
"Yes," Voss confirmed, sounding pleased. "Your Qi respires rather than circulates. Fascinating."
"So what does that mean for the Forms?"
"It means we adapt them," Voss decided. "The purpose remains the same—to structure and direct energy—but the method must suit the practitioner."
What followed was a complete reimagining of the First Form. Where the traditional version emphasized continuous flow, Voss helped Arin develop a rhythmic approach—movements that expanded with the pulse of Qi and contracted with its retreat. It was less graceful, perhaps, but infinitely more effective.
By mid-afternoon, Arin had not only mastered the adapted First Form but had begun work on the Second: Projection.
Sera watched with increasing interest as Arin progressed through exercises that should have taken months to grasp, the Qi responding more readily to this personalized approach. When Arin successfully projected a small sphere of energy between outstretched palms on the third attempt—something that had taken Sera herself nearly a year to accomplish in her youth—she exchanged a significant look with Voss.
"The Oracle's mark indeed," she murmured, too quietly for Arin to hear.
As the day wore on, Arin's progress accelerated. The Third Form: Shielding came almost naturally, the pulsing Qi forming protective barriers that rippled like heat waves in the air. The Fourth: Sensing allowed Arin to detect the energy signatures of nearby objects and beings with surprising accuracy, identifying Sera and Voss blindfolded simply by the feel of their Qi.
By the time the larger of Elysion's twin suns began to set, casting the training ground in amber light, Arin had begun work on the Fifth Form: Transformation—the ability to change the quality of one's Qi for different purposes.
"Remarkable," Voss admitted as Arin successfully transformed a projection from heat to cold, the sphere of energy between outstretched palms frosting over with delicate crystals. "You have an intuitive grasp that defies explanation."
"Maybe I'm just a good student," Arin suggested, though the ease with which these supposedly difficult techniques came was unsettling even to their practitioner.
"Or perhaps," Sera interjected, "you are remembering rather than learning."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Before she could answer, Voss directed them to continue, moving swiftly to the Sixth Form: Communion—the ability to harmonize one's Qi with external sources. This proved more challenging, requiring a vulnerability that Arin instinctively resisted.
"You must allow your boundaries to become permeable," Voss instructed as Arin struggled to connect with the energy of a simple crystal. "Not dissolved, but selectively open."
"That goes against every survival instinct I have," Arin admitted. "Letting something else's energy into mine feels... invasive."
"Communion is not invasion," Voss corrected. "It is conversation. You speak, you listen, you respond. The crystal has its own frequency—you must hear it before you can harmonize with it."
It took nearly an hour of frustrating attempts before Arin finally managed it—a moment of surrender that allowed perception of the crystal's subtle song. Once heard, it was simple to adjust personal Qi to match its frequency, creating a resonance that made the crystal glow with amplified light.
"Good," Voss approved. "This skill will serve you well when you face the Council. They will attempt to read your intentions through Qi communion."
"Wait, what?" Arin's concentration broke, the crystal's glow fading. "They can read my mind?"
"Not thoughts precisely," Sera clarified. "But intentions, emotions, the truth of your being—these are written in your Qi for those skilled enough to read them."
"That's... invasive," Arin protested.
"It is necessary," Voss countered. "The Council must determine whether you represent threat or opportunity. They cannot do so without assessing your true nature."
"And if they don't like what they find?"
Neither Voss nor Sera answered directly, which was answer enough.
As twilight deepened, they moved to the final discipline—the Seventh Form: Weaving, the ability to create complex patterns of Qi for specific purposes. This was traditionally the most difficult to master, requiring precision, creativity, and deep understanding of energy dynamics.
To everyone's shock, including Arin's, it came almost effortlessly. Where the Aetherii approach involved careful construction of patterns through meticulous visualization, Arin simply... commanded. The Qi responded to intention with minimal effort, forming intricate designs that hung in the air like living calligraphy.
"Impossible," Voss whispered as Arin created a pattern he had merely described verbally—a protection weave that traditionally took years to master. "The Qi obeys you as if..."
"As if what?" Arin prompted when he didn't continue.
Voss and Sera exchanged another of those meaningful glances.
"As if it recognizes your authority," Sera finished. "As if you speak its native language."
The implications of this hung in the air between them, unspoken but profound.
Finally, as the last light faded from the sky and exhaustion claimed even Arin's Qi-enhanced stamina, Voss called an end to the day's training.
Collapsed on the training ground, lungs burning and muscles screaming in protest, Arin stared up at the twin moons beginning their nightly dance across Elysion's star-strewn sky. "Seven forms," Sera said, her silhouette sharp against the darkening horizon. "Seven forms in one day, when most take a month to learn the first." She extended a hand, pulling Arin to unsteady feet. "The Oracle chose well, it seems. Rest tonight—tomorrow we travel to the Celestial Archives."
"The what now?" Arin asked, too exhausted to muster proper curiosity.
"The repository of all knowledge in this region of Elysion," Voss explained, his silver patterns dimmed with what might have been fatigue or concern. "If answers about your purpose here exist, they will be found there."
"And the Council?" Arin asked, remembering the original plan.
"They can wait," Sera decided. "What we witnessed today changes things. We need to understand what you are before we present you for judgment."
"What I am?" Arin repeated, a chill running down spine despite the warm evening. "I thought we established that—human, dimensional traveler, accidental Qi user."
"Perhaps," Sera replied, her ancient eyes unreadable in the moonlight. "Or perhaps something else entirely."
As they made their way back toward the village, Arin felt the weight of their speculation like a physical burden. The day's training had answered some questions but raised far more—not least of which was why the energy of an alien world responded to a human stranger as if welcoming home a long-lost master.
In the distance, beyond the village wards, the Veilstalkers continued their vigil, their numbers grown since the previous night. They sensed the power that had awakened in their prey, and it called to them with irresistible promise.
And somewhere even more distant, in a chamber where fate itself took physical form, the Oracle of Fate watched as the marked thread began to alter the very pattern of the tapestry around it—not by force, but by its mere presence, as if reality itself recognized something in this stranger that it had long awaited.