The forest at the foot of the mountain was unusually dense—not because of the trees, but because of the mist that clung to every surface. It pooled heavily near the sect's compound, where two elders stood conversing under the pale morning light.
One elder bore fresh wounds—bruises mottled her skin, and bandages wrapped around her arms and torso told the story of a brutal encounter. The other elder appeared unscathed, leaning casually against a pillar with an amused smirk playing on her lips.
"Well, well," the unwounded elder said, tilting her head as she studied her companion. "You look like you've been through the wringer, Sylra. Did that beast give you trouble?"
Sylra shot her a dry glare, though there was no real venom in it. "Oh, shut it, Myrra. If I recall correctly, you were supposed to be patrolling this area weeks ago. Maybe if you'd done your job, we wouldn't have lost over thirty disciples."
Myrra raised her hands defensively, chuckling lightly. "Hey, don't pin this on me. You know how unpredictable these mountains can get. Besides," she added with a sly grin, "you're still standing, aren't you? That counts for something."
Sylra rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a faint smile. "Barely. More than half of them were from the first dojo—greenhorns who didn't stand a chance against that… thing." Her expression darkened briefly before she shook her head. "But there is one bright spot in all this mess."
"Oh?" Myrra perked up, intrigued. "Do tell."
"That boy—Kale." Sylra's tone softened slightly, pride creeping into her voice despite herself. "He survived. Not only that, but he's already gleaned insights into the Ocean of Knowledge."
Myrra blinked, genuinely surprised. "Kale? The Empty Vessel? Really?"
"Yes, really," Sylra replied, crossing her arms with a smug smirk. "Hard to believe, isn't it? Especially considering you~'ve had him in your classes for years."
Myrra laughed outright, shaking her head. "Don't go throwing my failures back at me now. Clearly, he's got potential—I'll admit that much. But let's not act like this is solely my doing. Who knows what kind of chaos he stumbled into out there?"
"True enough," Sylra conceded, her gaze drifting toward the distant peaks shrouded in mist. "Still, it's good news for the sect—and for him. He might actually amount to something after all."
"And for you," Myrra teased, nudging Sylra playfully. "Admit it—you're secretly proud of the kid."
Sylra snorted, though a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. "Maybe. But don't make too much of it. We both know survival means nothing if he doesn't learn to use his gifts wisely."
Myrra nodded, her expression turning serious. "Speaking of which… what about Fenric? And that grave guardian? Any leads?"
Sylra frowned, her earlier levity fading. "Fenric vanished without a trace. As for the guardian…" She trailed off, glancing toward the mountain again. "It retreated. For now. But I doubt it'll stay quiet for long."
Myrra sighed, rubbing her temples. "More questions than answers, as usual. Guess we'll just have to wait and see what Kale brings back—with any luck, he won't end up dead before then."
•---•
Back in his quarters, Kale sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his mind heavy with everything that had happened over the past six days. He closed his eyes and reached for the familiar pull of the Ocean of Knowledge. Its energy surged through him like a current, drawing him inward. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing amidst the vast expanse of golden threads and shimmering motes.
The sight was breathtaking, as always—the endless golden expanse stretched far beyond what his eyes could comprehend. Threads wove intricate patterns in the air, glowing faintly as they pulsed with life. Motes of light danced around him, flickering like fireflies caught in a gentle breeze.
Kale stood motionless, simply staring at the radiant display before him. His thoughts drifted—not to combat techniques or strategies, but to everything that had transpired since the festival began. Alden's betrayal, his sudden and horrifying death. The monster shrouded in mist, its relentless pursuit. Fenric's disappearance, and the cryptic warnings from Elder Sylra. The Moon Bloom flower, now reduced to star-like dust safely tucked away in his pouch.
So much had changed in such a short time. Six days ago, he'd been just another disciple—an outsider, dismissed as the Empty Vessel. Now, he carried secrets that even the elders seemed wary of uncovering.
Kale clenched his fists tightly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. For all his newfound abilities, he still felt powerless. Every step forward only led to more questions, more dangers lurking in the shadows.
And yet…
He gazed at the golden expanse surrounding him, feeling its pull deep within his chest. This place—this boundless sea of knowledge—was his anchor. No matter how overwhelming things became, the Ocean remained constant, offering guidance when nothing else made sense.
Kale took a deep breath, letting the moment wash over him. There would be time later to search for answers, to build his skills and unravel the mysteries of the Midnight Dust. For now, he simply allowed himself to exist here, suspended between worlds, finding solace in the quiet hum of the Ocean's power.