The engines of the Riptide hummed steadily, but elsewhere, Larin's consciousness stretched far beyond the sterile medical bay of the ship. He floated far above Sinlung, his perspective detached, almost omnipotent. In this ethereal form, he could see the curvature of the planet, the green forests and vast cities, rivers that glistened in the light. The view was at once humbling and surreal, a stark reminder of the fragile yet immense world he called home.
He floats to Xiaxo, where he was born. Below him unfolded in living tapestry rolling hills, the dense woods, and so much more. There he views his parents sitting together in that small home, with Zakop booming out laughter after laughter; easy to hear the deep, deep chuckle against Moimui's softer laughter, born in decades of harmony. At sight, there was a glow of warmth coupled with loneliness; and all triviality this could bring brought forth the far-strength out of it which it gave.
He went back into the barrack where Pupi, another old one amongst them, lectured scholars as well as the soldiers on a lesson or more of the ancient ways of Xiaxoan. All these students listened so attentively that their faces mingled amazement and tenacity. At the Academy, Larin once saw Ewin lecturing behind a lectern to a spellbound crowd of young mages on advanced theory. His voice boomed across the hall; unfortunately for him, one unfortunate student dozed off in the back row. Ewin's sharp reprimand awakened the entire room, complete with muffled laughter from more attentive pupils.
The spectral form of Larin hovered closer again, now surveying a wider view of Xiaxo. Scattered across the countryside were faint embers of luminescence-one for each important place, one for each focus of power. One light caught his attention more than all the others did: the spring of natural origin where he and his friends had found the Dryad who had begun teaching them how to breathe through the Sinlung Technique.
He walked with wonder and stepped toward the spring. Water shimmered because it reflected light from an undiscovered star-it pulsed within a soft gentle bioluminescence. One could feel alive, as charged as the water itself, breathing in the early energy of a planet. She stepped out of the shadows around the spring because Larin appeared. Her outline was familiarly awesome.
'Creature, fellow creature,
it said, its voice rustling like leaves in a forest wind. "What an ominous shape you have. We meet again."
Larin nodded silently, not knowing how to begin. His state of being made it possible to communicate without words, but the Dryad's presence required him to speak. "I wanted to see the spring once more. And you."
Dryad's emerald eyes shone with interest. "It was destiny that brought us together before, and now it would seem destiny is binding us yet again. Form is much better in the Sinlung Breathing Technique. You have pure mana, and the mastery is reaching levels of symbiosis. I can hardly be disappointed by this kind of progress. How are the others doing?
Larin hesitated before saying, "They grow stronger too. Each one in their own way. But I have questions, things that don't make sense to me. When I tried to deconstruct the spell Sinlung, I felt a resistance. At first, I thought it was because I just didn't get it, but it felt different."
The Dryad cocked her head to the side, showing no sign to her expression. "Ah, [Deconstruction]. A practice seen rarely here, but much spoken of. It's an advanced castings born out of a philosophical ideology few who exist in this realm understand. Your experience goes a long way in explaining to me the meaning of [Sinlung]. So what do you feel?
He furrowed his brow. "It felt like at first, the spell was fighting back as if it were a living thing. But as I dug deeper, I found that the resistance wasn't coming from the spell itself. It was something. more."
The skin of the Dryad rippled as bark would with every word spoken as she created a circle of magic alive before them. Faintly it shone with intricate geometry and an ancient, pulsing power. It surrounded Sinlung; out from within its spell the soft, old light pulsed.
"You are right," the Dryad said, a note of approval she granted that came close to never happening at all. "The spell [Sinlung] does not resist because it cannot be deconstructed. It resists because it is not really a spell in the literal sense of a spell. [Sinlung] is the expression of the world—the shared intention of all who walk on it, then and now. It is dead, and yet, somehow it pulsates with the imprints of life. It does not live, yet somehow, somehow it senses: its pseudolife comes out from the marriage of intentionality, credulity, and being.".
With Larin floating there in stunned silence as the weight of this revelation rested on him: "So it is… the voice of Sinlung itself?"
The Dryad nodded. "A lyrical interpretation, but fitting. [Sinlung] is the way we bridge to this place, how we tap into the heart of its being and add our own value in return. Few species get it, not least of which understanding it. Cherish this fact, brother/sister creature. If the minds beyond this dimension were to unravel the mystery that is [Sinlung], then utter pandemonium would ensue.".
The Dryad stopped, its features wrinkling in a somber shadow. "A great struggle is on its way. Khiuniu- the energy supporting and restraining in this world that's to be risked. You're among the few chosen who hold the hope for those looking to save it.
Hearing the dryad's words, hardening his stand he didn't quite lose interest "You speak of war. Will we see you again?"
Her shape changed to that of her bark skin, getting tighter and stiffer as she began the transformation. "We Dryads may go to war soon, although no one sees yet which path. I'll probably not have a chance for such talk anytime soon, so if you do ever have leisure to do so, come to our forest. There, we can instruct you as to your family and what will be required."
Its roots dug deep into the earth, its form one with the land itself. "This is one form," it said, now echoing through the very ground. "It allows continuous and spontaneous communion with Sinlung. It is stationary, so be warned."
Just a little time later, Dryad's form changed once more. The bark slid away to leave a pale-green-skinned human figure, a head of bright emerald hair, and dark pitch-black eyes. Its veins glowed softly and with a luminescent intensity. "This is another form, as well," it continued. "This, one carries the bond between self and Sinlung without having to be immobile. Once one integrates all of Sinlung into the soul completely, that individual can adopt such forms himself/herself. One does carry the seal of Sinlung on them. Sinlung's magic cannot disavow their nature."
It was something told to him by the Dryad as she gazed upon Larin, like one of the lesser wonders of her existence. All this weight settles within him: "And this mark? What am I?"
The expression on the Dryad's face softened as she continued. "You weren't chosen, fellow creature. You chose through your deeds, tenacity, and land of belonging. This mark of Sinlung isn't granted; it's earned.".
This was a shock that left Larin speechless, thoughts flying by like galloping horses. He hovered in silence as a hand came out to be extended to him, emerald eyes piercing but kind. "Remind yourself, Larin of Xiaxo, that your power was not through magic, but in how your harmony created an aura around you. It shall be tried by what lies ahead, but do not bend. Khiuniu watches over those who walk the balance path."
And that was speaking, the Dryad's form stretching out into the waters of the spring, afire. Larin lingered awhile, the weight of the speech heavy upon his chest. And then, once more looking down to the spring, he stood erect and again shot upward into the stratosphere, once more joined again in the infinite depth of the universe in its ethereal shape.
Sinlung whirled below. Still, with battles to face in the air unspoken in each breath; though far from finished with this journey, however, he was taking back a feeling of purpose along with an answer: for his guidance through life, in that realm, stood if he would only prove himself to be so-the Dryad's aid.