Marshall sat on his knees, a stubborn frown on his face as he was bent over the crystal.
His hair stuck to his forehead, and the smooth crystal had turned slippery with sweat. Yet his trembling hands gripped the crystal, trying again and again.
Mei Lihua watched him with a grimace, wincing at the endless struggle.
"Marsh..." she carefully tapped his shoulder. "I think you should stop."
The disciple huffed in denial, trying for the seventh time. He had worked on his spiritual flow for years. It couldn't just suddenly perish.
It was way too early for him to lose the fight against the unfairness of life. He was only nineteen.
Wyn watched silently, his expression unreadable. He had seen many disciples fail before, but not once had he witnessed this level of desperation.
If he was being honest, he had thought of Marshall as someone who would avoid pain at all costs. But now he was boiling in frustration, pushing his luck despite his broken flow causing him pain.
The snow deity couldn't take it anymore. He walked over to the disciple and took the crystal away.
"Enough."
Marshall flinched as the object of his undivided attention was gone. He up at Wyn, his eyes red-rimmed from the strain but still sharp.
"Just... one more try," Marshall pleaded, wiping using his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his face. "I can do it."
Wyn stood his ground. "You have pushed yourself beyond limits. Continuing like this will only cause more harm."
Mei Lihua nodded, gently nudging the disciple. "Wyn's right. You've done all you can for now. You need to rest and recover."
"I'm still at the first exercise," Marshall stumbled up, staring at the snow deity in defiance. "At least let me get this right."
"Marsh, leave it alone. You can try again tomorrow," Mei Lihua tried to reassure him.
"I didn't even get to the teacup or splitting the rock. If I could just try one more time," Marshall bargained.
Wyn placed the crystal back on the small table, then turned around to face him.
"Are you doing this because you cannot accept the truth? Or do you honestly believe you can do it?"
A moment of silence followed. Marshall furrowed his brows, opened and closed his mouth, but couldn't find an answer.
He watched Wyn walk away, and Mei Lihua followed, giving the disciple a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on the way out of the basement.
The door shut, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Marshall glowered at the closed door for a few seconds, then walked up to the table and reached for the crystal.
"I said I can do it," he whispered to the empty room.
But he didn't pick it up. He clenched his fists and glared at his feet.
Despite the layers of bandages with cotton in between to cushion his steps, the cuts and scrapes ached, adding oil to the fire.
"...cannot accept the truth?" he mumbled under his breath, the question spinning in his mind.
He knew he had a tendency to ignore uncomfortable truths, but getting trapped in doubt was no better.
If he wasn't going to go full out, he wouldn't have tried in the first place. It was either all or nothing.
"It's not over until I give up," Marshall told the crystal, and snatched it off the table.
Marshall clenched the crystal in his hand and closed his eyes again, drawing deep breaths. The question Wyn posed sat on his resolve like a wet rag.
"I can accept the truth, but who said it's the truth?" he muttered, the words barely audible.
The basement's silence was deafening, the only sound aside his huffing was the candlelight snapping with an occasional crackle.
"Whatever I believe in is the truth," he grumbled to the candle, trying to align his spiritual flow with the crystal once more.
The burning sensation flared up again, sharper than before. His resolve faltered, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to let go.
"Come on," he muttered.
But the pain soon became unbearable. His grip on the crystal loosened, and he slammed it back on the table.
The small teacup bounced under the impact, falling over.
Marshall leaned over the table, scoffing. He relented on the attempts, and picked up the teacup to set it upright.
"Fine, I will come back later. And then I'll get to you," he promised the cup.
With one last look at the tools, Marshall turned around and made his way up the narrow stairs.
The air grew more humid as he ascended, carrying the rain-scented breeze of the outdoors.
When he reached the top, the wooden door creaked open, revealing the stormy clouds hanging above. Rain poured in sheets, drowning the parched ground in puddles and streams
He stepped onto the porch, listening to the howling winds and the aggressive drumming of the rain.
"At least the grass will be greener after the rain," he remarked to nobody in particular, sitting down on the steps.
The disciple leaned over his knees to gaze up, past the porch roof. He stared up, watching the drops descend like thousands of falling stars.
For a while, he simply sat there and let the rain pelt his face. A semblance of calm gradually returned, the rain easing.
It was then that he noticed the change in the air, the cold prickle of snowflakes mingling with the drops.
Marshall blinked in surprise, looking up to see the rainfall transforming into a delicate snowfall.
"Eh?" Marshall murmured as the snowflakes landed softly on his skin, melting instantly.
He turned, spotting Wyn standing silently in the doorway, observing him with a calm expression.
"Are you allowed to do that?" the disciple questioned.