48th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

  Pillar of light? What the hell happened? Why me?

  “Pillar of light?” Newt clamped his mouth shut when he realized he was stuttering the words aloud.

  “Yup.” His sixth sister nodded vigorously, beaming with joy. “I wasn’t there, but I saw it from a distance. As bright as day… Well, brighter. In fact, I didn’t know the world could get so bright. Senior apprentice brother Twochains was there; his master told him the sect master got out of his seclusion to protect you.”

  Sect master. Newt frowned, then his jaw went slack and he slumped back onto the bed. How much money do I owe them? What is the cost of a tenth realm cultivator stopping their cultivation and wasting the gathered energy? I thought the clan was destitute, but we were never in as much debt as I am right now.

  Suddenly, Newt’s chest grew tight and breathing became impossible. He was a burden. He was making matters worse for everyone.

  Goodair glanced at Newt clenching his chest and pointedly ignored the gesture.

  “Twochains had no clue why the esteemed sect master appeared when he did, but my guess is he thought the sect was under attack.”

  Heavens! Did I damage the defensive spell formations?

  “Newstar.” Goodair grabbed his wrists, serious for the first time since he met her. “I think you are focusing on the wrong thing.”

  She paused and stared him in the eye, none of the flippantness left in that heavy gaze.

  “You. Nearly. Died.” She clenched his arms with enough strength to turn mortal limbs into sausages. “If the sect master hadn’t been there, you would have died. The sort of heat that destroyed the field wasn’t something you or I could ever survive. I’m not sure Master could have survived it. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  Newt’s skin crawled. He really could have died. To him, everything was just a dream, a somewhat painful dream, but still a dream, then he awoke without a scratch.

  I need to ask Master to explain what happened to me.

  “At least you’re aware of the gravity of it all. Master missed my training on the first day, even though it’s an hour before sunset. When I asked her about it, she said she forgot. I’ve been here for years, and she’s never forgotten about her disciples.” Goodair leaned in closer, her nose a palm’s width from Newt’s.

  “She was worried and distraught. Master might seem rigid or like she doesn’t care, but she does. She cares about all of us, and losing disciples was devastating for her. What I’m trying to say is, please, please, don’t make Master worry too much, or I’ll break your legs.” She grinned and winked. “Got it?”

  Newt nodded, his jaw cracked open, feeling like his soul had left him.

  I nearly died. Again. What would happen if I die? Would anyone else try to save Father and Mother? What would happen to the clan? What about Master? Dandelion? Would they be sad?

  By the time Newt regained his wits, Goodair had left the room. His heart was still shaken, his thoughts dark, but he realized one thing.

  My death would have been painless, had I died. I didn’t know what was happening, I didn’t suffer. Newt’s breathing grew shallow, minutes passing between his breaths. Something was there, he could feel it within reach, dancing just beyond the grasp of his conscious thoughts.

  It was the dream, it was the reality, it was what he had just experienced. The realization was like water about to turn to ice, but missing one last speck of cold. Like always when trying to do something beyond him, Newt’s thoughts shifted to Dandelion, but before he got to ask himself, ’What would Dandelion do?’ he had his answer.

  The path of amiability. Path.

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  The snowflake touched the lake of his idea, and ice blossomed. Newt’s thought turning crystal.

  My path. Death is easy, burdens of life, of living are hard. Duty, obligation, love. What is my path?

  The veins of ice spread through the lake of his consciousness. They covered the surface, making it solid. He knew what he was doing, he had the crust, and as the crystalline tendrils spread to the depth, he understood what he should do.

  I want to protect my parents, my clan, my friends. The mist of the unformed heart demon plaguing Newt’s soul grew clear in his realm. The nebula of regret, guilt, and shame turned into a black miasma. Then it became a black crystal, a beautiful statue of black glass representing Newt’s parents locked in a loving, familial hug, beckoning him to join them.

  The statue fell. Newt felt a tug, an urge to keep it whole, to keep it a part of his being, but he did not. The gravity of his realm pulled it down. Newt’s weakness smashed into the granite ground, shattering, just like glass.

  The black glass scattered, striking the inviolable rock, each chip breaking again and again with each contact, until it turned into a fine black powder, carried by the wind and swallowed by the rivers of lava.

  Newt exhaled, feeling lighter than ever. He had found it, something that resonated with him, with his dreams and fears, and even with the dragon from his dreams, who died preparing a way for his descendants to defend themselves.

  “Path of protection,” he muttered.

  As long as he stayed true to his path, as long he stayed true to himself, no heart demon would haunt him ever again.

  He smiled.

  “I think we should notify his master.” Obsidian’s worried voice reached Newt’s ear.

  He looked up, his eyes regaining focus, and he realized his room was no longer empty. The orange-haired woman was back, staring at him with a frown, and Obsidian stood behind her back, gawking at him.

  “I’m alright,” he said with absolute confidence.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” The ginger crossed her arms, still shooting him a terrible frown. “We’ve been here for half an hour, and you’ve just been staring straight ahead like your mind was broken.”

  She raised three fingers. “How many fingers do you see?”

  It took twenty minutes to convince Nurse Carrot that Newt was sane, that he could see, hear, smell, and feel pain. She performed the last test with way too much zeal and too little professionalism for Newt’s taste, but he endured being stabbed with a wooden poker.

  Finally, the orange nuisance left, muttering she should discuss keeping Newt for observation with her boss, despite the head healer’s orders.

  “So, how are you feeling?” With the grumpy healer gone, Obsidian finally had the chance to say something.

  “Better than ever, thanks.” Newt smiled, then his grin turned awkward. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  Obsidian waved his hand, dismissing Newt’s question. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Your master saved me in time, and I’m glad you’re also doing well.”

  Newt nodded slowly. Should I ask him? He was there, and he saw the whole thing, he should know what had happened better than anyone else.

  Newt was tempted. He opened his mouth, then changed his mind. “When do you think we can have that spar?”

  I’ll ask Master. Obsidian seems uncomfortable enough, and there’s no need to make things harder on him.

  Newt expected a stutter or a wince, but Obsidian shrugged. “Whenever you feel like it.”

  Newt nodded, and silence drowned the room. He burned with the desire to ask about what had happened, but could not, and he guessed Obsidian had questions he wanted to ask, but found the topics equally sensitive.

  Fortunately, someone was there to help them. Elder Flameax entered the room, his gait bouncy, void of grace or any other attribute one would expect from a cultivator.

  Is this the first time I see him walk instead of zipping around?

  “Hey kids, how are you doing? I didn’t expect to see both of you here.” For some reason, the silly walk and the whole appearance made Newt think Elder Flameax’s parents should have named him Fuzzy.

  “Greetings, Elder,” Obsidian gave a respectful bow, and Newt wondered whether he had done the same when he first met Elder Flameax. “I was just leaving.”

  “There’s no need to leave just because I’m here,” Elder Flameax assured Obsidian, but the younger man left the room after another respectful bow.

  The door clicked closed, leaving Newt alone with his teacher.

  “I apologize if I caused you trouble, teacher,” Newt said just as Elder Flameax opened his mouth.

  “No trouble at all. In fact, I think my cultivation progressed a bit with so much pure fire-attributed spiritual energy coursing through my body. Not just mine, so while you caused us trouble, you did provide some benefits as well, so there’s no reason to feel too bad about what happened.”

  Newt smiled, realizing the strange elder was trying to reassure him, but then the man hurriedly added, “Not that there was a reason for you to feel bad in the first place. It wasn’t your fault those things happened, and even if it was, I don’t think you did it intentionally.”

  “Thank you, Teacher, could you tell me what happened, I assume you were nearby when whatever happened happened?”

  Elder Flameax was silent for a moment, gazing into the distance before he found his words.

  “Nobody is really certain about why it happened…”