Chapter Forty-Three

  "There's no better way to learn than to teach." – Sansa’Ryn.

  Level Five

  The Northern Tribes

  Emy

  “Do you ever miss them?” Emy asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She sat beside Sansa in quiet reflection, the two of them perched on a grassy hill in the western province, just north of the Great Divide. The air hung heavy and humid, a clinging reminder of the taint's lingering presence, a force that subtly altered the northlands from the south.

  “Every day.” Sansa smiled faintly, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if searching for something—or someone—just out of reach. “My brother was… no, he is my world. My dad, well, he’s a bit hit or miss, but I can’t say I blame him.” She chuckled, the sound bittersweet.

  “Same.” Emy returned the smile, though it carried a weight of unspoken regret. “I know I’m where I’m supposed to be, but I can’t shake this feeling of guilt. The nights are the hardest. The cosmos is so vast, yet they still see the same stars I do. I could reach them within hours if I wanted to.”

  Sansa nodded. “It’s the worst part,” she admitted. “The second worst? Knowing that my dad and I are locked in the same battle, playing roles that haven’t shifted in generations.”

  “Roles?” Emy tilted her head, intrigued.

  “When I left for the North, I thought I was breaking free of my father’s shadow. I wasn’t going to follow in his footsteps—I was going to defy them. I wouldn’t yield to the Northerners; I’d join them. I thought I was an outcast reborn, but the reality was different. Now, I yield—not to the northerner, but to the mountain, to Vrax. I’ve grown in strength, yes, and also have a semblance of freedom. But in truth, I’m still just maintaining the balance of power.”

  “Why do you choose to be the one to go down to the village, then?” Emy asked curiously.

  “Who else should it be? Alberth? Or some other version of him in the Northern tribes?” Sansa’s tone carried a trace of bitterness. “I play the role of keeping the balance of power intact. The act isn’t entirely fake. The taint… controls us and amplifies our emotions. But it also grows. And with that growth comes more death.”

  Sansa chuckled suddenly, catching Emy off guard. The younger woman shot her a puzzled look as Sansa added, “That, and I get to feel my brother’s presence when I’m near. I’ve only seen him once, but sensing him—it gives me hope. It gives me clarity.”

  Emy laughed softly. “Strangely, I know what you mean. I feel the same way about Grace’s eagle. I swear I can feel her watching over me sometimes.”

  “Eagle?” Sansa raised an eyebrow.

  “Rose,” Emy clarified. “She hates me, but I don’t blame her.”

  Sansa gave her a bemused look but chose to let it slide. Instead, she stood and stretched. “Alright, Fury. We came here for a reason. Are you ready for your lesson?”

  Emy nodded as Sansa’s demeanor shifted into her familiar instructor tone. “Our people have a belief,” Sansa began. “Talk to the village elders, and they’ll tell you about the ‘Will of the Earth.’ A connection that binds all atoms across this world and beyond to the very expanse of the cosmos.”

  “Do you believe in it?” Emy asked skeptically.

  Sansa shrugged lightly. “Maybe. But I do believe in a greater connection. If you’ve spent enough time with my brother, you’d know we call it being ‘Rooted.’ It’s about aligning your will and energy with a deeper plane of existence. This connection is mysterious, sure, but there are paths to reach it—paths I think I understand better than most. To influence something—whether to dampen it or dissolve it—you first have to understand it.”

  Emy’s scientific mind buzzed with questions. The void had taught her there was much she didn’t know about existence, about connection. Atoms bond, react and intertwine. If the void has a presence, wouldn’t the Earth have one too?

  Sansa seemed to read her thoughts. “Sometimes it’s not about challenging what something is, but what it can do. Am I right in assuming you have a full form?”

  “You want me to light on fire?” Emy asked, incredulous. “Here?”

  “Yes,” Sansa smirked, patting on the hillside. “This is where the ‘don’t challenge’ part comes in.”

  Emy rolled her eyes but complied, lying down on the grass. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Just do it,” Sansa said with a grin. “I’ll keep the whole hill from going up in flames.”

  With a sigh, Emy activated her Pyroform skill. Flames erupted from her body in a blaze of heat and light, a stark contrast against the green hillside. Closing her eyes, she let the fire flow through her.

  “Fire is one of Earth’s core connections,” Sansa began, her voice unwavering yet calm. “It’s different from the rest. It embodies light, heat, and transformation. Feel the sun’s energy coursing through the land—the way it dries the earth, setting the stage for your fire. Your embers blaze through what was once hydrated, igniting the now-flammable earth.”

  Emy surrendered to the words and the sensations that followed. She allowed the sun’s warmth to anchor her as she reached out with her fire, sensing its interplay with the earth beneath her. For the first time, she could feel it—the embers seeping into the soil, merging, transforming it into fertile ground.

  Sansa’s steady voice pulled her deeper into focus. “Now, shift your awareness. Let your fire go further. Feel its energy traveling into the depths of the Earth, reaching the molten heart of the planet—the magma core. It’s there that fire and earth become one, shaping the foundation of this world.”

  Emy followed the guidance, her mind stretching downward, her flames intertwining with the immense heat far beneath the surface. She felt the planet’s pulse, a rhythmic warmth that reverberated through her fire like a heartbeat.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Now,” Sansa continued, “let the breeze touch your flames. Feel how it breathes life into them, pushing, pulling, expanding. Wind is fire’s ally, fueling its energy, making it brighter, fiercer, hotter. Let it shape your fire—allow it to flow freely, to grow.”

  The wind curled around her form, brushing against her flames with subtle grace. Instead of the usual restless surge, Emy’s fire responded with fluidity, dancing to the rhythm of the breeze. She felt the transformation—her flames expanding, not with force, but with a sense of cooperation.

  “And finally,” Sansa said, her voice soft yet commanding, “acknowledge what restrains you. Water—the unseen boundary. But don’t view it as a limitation. See it as guidance, a channel for control. Fire may be your essence, but mastery lies in understanding its boundaries. Let the water shape your fire, refining its power.”

  Emy felt the presence of water as a quiet force—a gentle outline framing her fire, giving it structure without stifling its energy. It was no longer something to resist; it was something to embrace. And in that moment, the balance clicked. Her flames, shaped by earth, guided by wind, and tempered by water, reached a level of harmony she had never experienced before.

  As Sansa’s words settled, Emy’s awareness exploded, and she felt the profound connection—a bond where each element fueled and enhanced the other. A rush of clarity and strength filled her as she began to grasp the full scope of her potential—not as fire alone, but as part of an intricate, elemental cycle.

  "Fire fuels the Earth’s renewal, dances with the Wind’s breath, and is tempered by Water’s embrace," Sansa continued, her voice steady yet inviting. "Feel the cycles within your fire—the rhythm, the pulse. Let them guide you. Let me empower you. Embrace your connection to this Earth and beyond it."

  Emy remained lying on the grassy hillside, her breaths slowing as she let Sansa’s words sink in. Her fire, once a restless flicker that danced unevenly across her form, began to change. The chaotic embers softened, their jagged energy giving way to a steady, rhythmic glow. It started as a faint shimmer and grew, spreading across her body like molten gold flowing beneath her skin. The flames no longer lashed out wildly; instead, they coalesced into a radiant, golden aura.

  A surge of warmth flooded through her—not the sharp, consuming heat she was accustomed to, but something softer, more profound. For the first time, Emy felt grounded, as though her fire wasn’t just a force of destruction but a source of life intertwined with the world around her. She could feel it: the embers sinking into the soil, transforming it, nourishing it. She could sense the warmth of the Earth’s core deep below, its molten power calling to her fire in a resonant harmony. The breeze around her shifted, catching at the edges of her glow and fanning the flames gently, allowing them to stretch and breathe.

  < Level up! Emy is now a level 12 Generalist >

  Her flames gradually receded, shimmering softly before fading entirely. Emy hesitated before opening her eyes, bracing herself for what she might see—scorched earth, charred grass, destruction as far as her power had reached. But to her surprise, when she sat up, all she found was a faint brown outline of her body etched into the ground beneath her. Around it, the grass remained lush and green, untouched by the intensity of her flames.

  She turned to find Sansa sitting nearby, her gaze fixed on the plains that stretched out toward the village where she had once lived. The woman’s expression was calm and thoughtful.

  Emy got to her feet and walked over to sit beside her. For a moment, they both simply stared out across the rolling landscape.

  “I think it might be time to try and teach you for once,” Emy said at last, her tone light but sincere. She glanced at Sansa and gave her a small smile. “I’m not sure how this whole teacher thing will go, but I owe you. Thank you.”

  Sansa’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained fixed on the horizon. Without turning to face her, she posed a question that carried an air of quiet curiosity. “Tell me about the Void.”

  The question caught Emy off guard for a brief moment, but she quickly realized it shouldn’t have. Of course Sansa would want to know—it made sense. The Void was the greatest of all dampeners, the inverse of existence itself.

  “You know,” Emy began, her voice betraying a flicker of hesitation, “it’s funny… you’re the first person I’m willing to tell this to.” She chose to ignore the view counter flickering in her view—billions across the cosmos watching her as she glanced at her active viewer count via Nex. Sansa deserved this truth. If sharing her experience gave Sansa a path to grow stronger, it was something she had to do.

  Sansa remained silent, her presence steady, giving Emy the space to collect her thoughts. When she finally spoke, her voice carried the weight of reflection.

  “The first skill I ever mastered was something called Targeted Fusion. At first, it seemed straightforward—organizing atoms and elements into new groupings, pure creation. It felt like a discovery as if I were shaping something entirely new. But over time, I began to wonder: if creation is possible, what about its opposite? What about separation?

  “My thoughts shifted, pulling me toward the edges of existence itself. How far can you push before everything unravels? It wasn’t just about creating anymore—it was about revealing what lies beneath, peeling back the layers of what is.”

  Emy’s tone softened as she added, “And my energy answered. It pierced deeper, cutting through until it reached something raw and primal—the very fabric of existence itself. There, I made a crack—a sliver so small it felt like almost nothing...”

  She paused, exhaling slowly. “That sliver wasn’t just separation; it was a glimpse of what lies beyond—what isn’t. It taught me that even in creation, there’s a shadow, a counterpart that completes the cycle. At that moment, I didn’t just separate atoms. I separated existence itself.”

  She paused, her gaze turning inward, her voice carrying a weight of introspection. “I know that’s not what you asked, but it’s part of the path that led me to your answer. To me, the Void feels like the end of an endless road. A place of constant yearning—a gnawing sense that you should do more, but you can’t. It embodies my unrelenting desire to influence, change, and shape the world around me while confronting the truth that I am powerless within. The Void and whatever is inside is nothing. And for someone like me, who craves to feel everything, it’s… it’s maddening.”

  Emy’s gaze turned to Sansa, her face puzzled yet determined. Behind her thoughts, she noticed her view count had doubled in moments—an indicator of the impact her words carried across the expanse of the cosmos. “Two hundred and fifteen billion viewers and growing,” Nex whispered, “Be careful with this topic.”

  She waved Nex’s warning away mentally, focusing instead on Sansa, who had turned to her now. “Whatever resides in the Void?” Sansa asked, a subtle chill creeping down her spine. “There’s something in it?”

  “Yes,” Emy said, her voice filled with quiet gravity. “Or rather, someone.”

  “Who?” Sansa’s expression shifted, her eyes wide and searching. The surprise etched across her face was unlike anything Emy had seen before.

  “I can’t tell you that because I am not sure.” Emy’s answer was thoughtful yet uncertain. “I don’t know exactly; it could just be my mind trying to make sense of things. However, you speak of the connectedness of this Earth and the cosmos, of a belief in a great force that binds everything together. If there’s something that connects all existence, why wouldn’t there be something that guides all… nonexistence?”

  “1.2 trillion viewers and climbing!” Nex’s voice rang out urgently in Emy’s mind.

  Sansa’s voice faltered. “Emy, that’s… that’s—”

  “Crazy,” Emy finished for her, flashing a knowing smile. “Trust me, crazy is something I’m familiar with.” She tried to move forward, though Sansa’s expression remained frozen in shock. “The Void is the inverse, simple as that. Your skill as a dampener lets you cancel out another power set. But what if you could take it one step further? What if you could combat the very mechanism that drives the Void? If you can understand how it works, you can not only weaken it—you can evolve it. Turn it into something greater.”

  Her words trailed off as realization struck her like a lightning bolt. Her lips barely moved as she murmured to herself, “Don’t resist… evolve and change.”

  Sansa caught her expression, and her voice cut through Emy’s reverie with wry amusement. “Emy, did you just turn this into another lesson for yourself?”

  Emy blinked, her gaze distant as her mind churned. “I need to get a note to someone.”