The sun was dying behind the horizon, bleeding its last gold over the shattered rocks from attacks. Crimson waves rose like angry beasts, crashing upward only to twist away at the final instant, never touching the sitting boy on the rock. Splintered stone pillar jutted in front of the cave entrance like broken ribs, and the two of them sat upon one such fallen slab, shadows stretched long behind them.
The woman, or better to say her soul sat beside him, her form was still stable due to unknown power. The cavern had collapsed earlier by the attacks. Above them, in distance red and golden clouds condensed again, stagnant yet drawing closer. High in the blistering sky, the divine gate hung open like a colossal wound. The boy's faint divine radiance reached toward it, dimming even the bleeding sunset.
His breath came in rough bursts. "Let… let me rest for a moment," he murmured, closing his eyes.
She watched silently. Thin, white and black lines crawled along his skin like living veins, then folded inward and vanished, his wounds knitting shut faster than thought. In a few heartbeats, he looked whole again.
He's healing by burning that strange power again, she thought, a sliver of worry threading her voice. So wasteful… Does he truly not perceive the outer energy? Or does he simply not know how to shape it into a cycle? And yet, he commands that other force so effortlessly…
He opened his eyes suddenly. "I'm healed," he declared, then noticed her distant gaze. "Sister… you're thinking too much again."
She blinked, expression smoothing over. "I'm fine."
"Then can I ask you something?"
"What?"
He pointed toward the head spread within his mind-sea, those six distant islands connected by faint bridges of light. "You saw it earlier. The six islands in my mind space."
She nodded slowly, the ghost of caution in her eyes.
"How do I open them?" he asked. She stared at him for some time and replied "You already opened it with your power. Then why ask?" She said silently and he replied "but… isn't there another way? If I keep using that form, I'll waste too much energy."
She studied him, folding one leg beneath her as she turned to face him fully. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "You wish to know if you can use the energy around us instead of your…?"
"Yes."
She tilted her head. "So you can sense that energy."
"I can… but - "
She finished for him, "You can sense it only when you enter that form, not naturally."
His silence confirmed it.
"That's strange," she murmured. "Most who come here gain the ability to sense it after passing the trial. But…" She leaned forward, studying him with a sharp, sovereign gaze.
She waved her hand dismissively. "do you want to learn to sense it?"
He nodded.
A slow smile curved her lips, though it carried no warmth. "Very well. But before that, show me something. You said you lose too much energy in that form. How efficiently can you control it? Any tricks?"
He inhaled deeply. "Maybe one."
Closing his eyes again, he let the strange, silent force within him expand. His shadow pulled inward, collapsing in on itself. His body began to shrink, first the size of a child, then half that, then a blur too tiny to track. She blinked in shock. His presence vanished entirely, slipping outside even her gaze.
When he returned, his form re-expanded in a ripple of light. But black veins flashed across his arms and neck, fading as quickly as they came. He healed again almost instantly.
She stared at him, awe and unease mixing in her expression. "We would need dozens of scrolls, technique, and body-compression talisman to shrink even a fraction that much. But you… you do it natively." Her voice trembled with amazement. "I'm truly… impressed."
He looked away, slightly embarrassed. "Now… I'm pulling back the scattered energy outside."
Before she could ask what he meant, he opened his mouth.
Behind him, a translucent ring, an impossible halo of shifting geometry, spun into existence. The sea stilled. The winds bowed. From the dying horizon, from the waves, from the shattered land itself, a surge of colourless energy rushed toward him.
The energy spiralled into his mouth in a cyclone of silence, swallowed into a void that did not echo.
When the flow of colourless energy finally ceased, the halo behind him flickered once, dimmed, and vanished like a dream swallowed by dusk. The boy staggered slightly, breath steaming in the cooling wind. His form reverted completely, no more divine markings, no shimmering veins, only his frail, battered mortal body.
His clothes were almost ruined, torn black fabric hanging from him like shed skin. His sword lay half-buried in a crack of the rock near them, also his hat rested on it's handle.
Then he turned and froze.
The girl was staring at him with pure shock. Her pale soul-light flickered unevenly, like a lantern caught in a storm.
"What happened?" he asked, raising a brow.
She didn't answer. Instead, she placed her hand on his chest and pressed lightly, her touch passing through flesh yet sending faint ripples across his skin. She moved her hand slowly along his ribs, shoulders, spine, like a physician probing a corpse for hidden wounds.
He broke into laughter, swatting gently at her wrist. "Stop, that tickles."
But she wasn't smiling.
Inside him, she finally saw clearly. And seeing it left her cold.
So that strange power clouded even my senses… even my soul-sight.What… what kind of energy is this? And why is someone with a body like this still alive? No… how did he survive long enough to even reach this place?
Her silence stretched.
He tilted his head, reading her expression easily. A small, bitter smile curled his lips. "Are you trying to understand why my energy pathways are twisted like snapped branches? Why half my channels can't even circulate breath? Why some are dead entirely?"
Her eyes widened.
He continued, voice disturbingly calm, "Or why my seed of life is shattered? Why my marrow is thinning? Why my organs look like they're decades older than my real age?" He grinned like someone mocking his own misfortune. "Why my fate was stolen? Why the only power I have left is one that I can't use properly until I master it completely? Should I add more?"
She exhaled sharply, trembling sound. "Yes… all of that. How are you even standing? Someone with a body like yours… even I should have died countless times. If you belonged to any respectable clan, they would have either abandoned you, sealed you away, or..."
"Killed me?" he finished.
She went still.
He looked toward the dying sun, eyes reflecting its last light, and said softly, "Death would have been too kind."
A faint quiver ran through her chest. He didn't hide the emotion in his voice.
"I tried to win against death," he said, smiling as if at some long-forgotten memory. "But then I realized… I had already died. Many times. Sometimes by strangers. Sometimes by my own blood." His voice cracked, barely noticeable. "So yes… this mortal shell is living. But me? I died long ago."
A single tear clung to the corner of his eye, though he kept smiling.
"Don't worry. I don't remember any of them," he added gently. "I only saw it just now… in that form. Everything that's broken in me, physically, spiritually, fate-wise. Did I miss something?"
She hesitated. Then shook her head slowly. "Maybe. If your fate was stolen, then some things inside you might never have formed at all." Her tone became clinical, somber. "Fate can be rebuilt through effort. But silhouette inside of our body… cannot. And you do not have a cultivator's body. It is incomplete, like a vessel never meant to hold power."
He thought for a moment, then said stubbornly, "I can make up for it with hard work."
A faint smile touched her lips. "That, at least, is true."
But he continued, "Sister… earlier you mentioned something. What is 'silhouette' inside the body?"
"Silhouette," she began slowly, "or what some call the Seed of New Life, is not the same as the seed of life you lost."
Her voice grew softer, deeper, carrying the weight of old lore.
"Our bodies are worlds, filled with hidden chambers, buried paths, sealed layers. Even I don't know all the places a silhouette might hide." She traced the air with her finger, a small luminous trail following her gesture. "Some say it lies beneath the last chakra, lower than the spine. Some say it is inside the seed of life. Others claim it sleeps within the marrow, or in the brain." She shook her head. "Its location changes from person to person. Also as the body itself is formed, another being is silently formed within the body. A sleeping form of different forms."
He listened quietly.
"Regardless of where it lies," she said, "the silhouette determines talent. It is the root of potential. Without awakening it, your ceiling remains low, no matter how hard you work. "
She looked at him again but this time not with pity. With something closer to fear.
"And you…" she whispered, "you do not have one. Or if you do… it is hidden so deeply that even my soul-sight cannot find its shadow." She leaned back against the cracked boulder, her pale soul-light drifting like faint smoke, and continued, "Silhouettes can take many shapes, trees, beasts, fishes, humans, weapons, deities… even dragons or ancient gods. But in your case… someone shattered it long ago. Every possibility, every branch of your future."
She exhaled, voice lowering. "It's useless to explain further. You wouldn't understand..."
But the boy only smiled "Don't worry about me. I understand enough."
A sigh escaped him, carrying exhaustion older than his age. "I've lived through too many storms to fear another. I wanted freedom too, once. But the world taught me, freedom isn't free. You need power. The more power you hold, the more doors open. The more doors open… the fewer chains can bind you."
He looked at his trembling hands, then the sky, where the last smear of crimson sun melted behind clouds.
"That's why I'm not sad," he whispered. "Because I was given something precious, this strange energy. With it, I can travel anywhere, survive anything. And one day, I'll cultivate too."
She tilted her head. "Why are you so sure?"
He lifted his eyes, and despite the cracks in his soul, there was a kind of steady conviction burning there. "Because once I understand this power… I'll use it to rebuild everything inside me."
The wind paused. Even the waves seemed to hush.
He continued, voice quiet but unwavering, "Inside me… there are skies too. Not as grand as the real one, but they exist. Stars, scattered like broken lanterns. Blue and red veins that glow faintly. Hidden channels flowing like rivers, I counted eighteen. And one hundred and eight small nodes, like pearls where those rivers meet. Most are damaged but two channels still shine."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"And inside those two," he added, "I found, sensed the same colourless energy that exists outside."
He swallowed. "In that form I tried gathering more of it… and it stayed for a while, but my body couldn't hold it. Everything inside me is either broken or dying."
His voice faltered. He lowered his head.
She placed her hand on his shoulder.
"Don't cry," she whispered.
"I'm not crying," he insisted.
But tears were already dripping silently down his chin.
"Your will," she said softly, "must be hardened, little one. If your will is strong enough… even standing inside fire will feel like standing in warm spring water. Strengthen your resolve." Her thumb brushed the corner of his eye. "Do not break."
They sat in silence. The sea raged at their feet, yet never touched them, waves split around him as if bowing.
After a long while, he inhaled and asked in a trembling voice, "That drop of god's blood… the one you sealed inside me… can it awaken my seed of life?"
She blinked, then a small smile broke through her normally solemn face. "Yes," she said. "It can."
His breath hitched.
"But," she continued, "…not by me. Not with my current strength. I can't help you awaken it directly."
Despair flickered across his gaze, but before it could take root, she added,
"However, do not despair. You will awaken it. Whether you want to or not. Because that place will call you back. Make sure to survive and win like this. A place… where all your answers began. Where your silhouette may awaken naturally."
He looked at her with eyes that were almost crying again, though his face remained stubbornly composed.
She reached out and gently brushed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "Why are you crying again?"
"Nothing." He forced a laugh, hollow and trembling. "It's just… everything ends the same for me. Even my brush left me." His voice cracked at the last word.
She shook her head. "You have a long life ahead. For me… my life ended long ago."
He stared at the horizon where the sky had turned a mournful mix of violet and ash. "Then what's the point?" he whispered. "What's the point of living if living feels no different from dying?"
She leaned closer, her expression unreadable under the bruised twilight. "Then let me ask you something. Do you truly want to walk the path of cultivation?" He nodded.
"Do you want to awaken your seed of life ?" "Yes."
"Do you want strength, answers, and freedom?" "Yes," he breathed.
"Then," she said, her voice turning cold and sharp with ancient wisdom, "why haven't you asked me how to awaken it? Or how cultivation truly begins? Or what path you must tread?"
Mist curled around the cliff like pale fingers, rising from the moss-drowned stones as if the earth itself exhaled secrets. The night wind whispered through raging waves, a low, hollow sound that seemed almost alive. The moon, swollen and bruised behind shifting clouds, cast a wan silver hue across the lonely mountain clearing.
The boy nodded slowly, the disappointment fading from his face as though it had been wiped away by an unseen hand. He straightened his posture on the cold fractured stone, sitting with the earnest attention of a child about to hear a legend whispered across ages. The dying sun cast molten copper across the shattered cavern mouth, and the sea below glimmered like a vast blade, swallowing light and giving none back.
The woman, her soul-body pale and half-transparent, watched him with an expression somewhere between amusement and sorrow. Then she began gently, her voice soft as drifting ash:
"Listen carefully. First, you must sit in a meditative posture. Still your mind. Quiet your thoughts until even your heartbeat feels distant. Your breath must move in harmony."
"You must sense both inside and outside. When your mind sinks deep enough, you will feel the air around you flowing… quietly, but not uniformly. I cannot tell you how it will feel to you. But as you focus, more and more, you will begin to sense a faint, colourless energy everywhere. That is the beginning of Prana-Drishti, the Sight of Breath."
The boy leaned forward, chin on his hand, entirely absorbed.
She continued, "After that, widen your perception. Expand your awareness over a larger area. Then look inward, the same energy flows inside you as well. It moves in and out of you, the way you breathe air and prana at the same time. Eventually, you must learn to separate them… divide them… understand the distinction."
Her hand moved as if drawing invisible pathways in the air.
"And the final stage, guide that energy through the body. Through the veins, through the organs, through the heart and bones. Once you can direct it freely, you will stand at the peak of prana sensing. You will be able to use prana however you wish, like a shield wrapping around your body. Wrap your body in it like an invisible cloak. With enough practice, vapour will rise from your skin. When that happens, your strength will rise. It will feel like the force of two bulls coursing through you."
She lifted her hand. For a moment, the air around her fingers shimmered, as though fog tried to condense into something more solid. The boy blinked once, then twice, completely immersed. Then he broke into a bright grin.
"Why did you stop?" he said, tapping his chin as if urging a storyteller. "Go on! Next, next—"
She glared at him. "It's not a story."
"But you're telling it like one," he countered. She closed her eyes briefly. "Ah… just listen. And don't laugh like a little child."
He shrugged. "I am a child although." She turned to him sharply. "You're sixteen this year, aren't you?" His eyes widened. "How did you know that?" "Soul age," she replied calmly.
"You're getting off topic," he protested, waving his hand. "Go on. Next." She let out a slow sigh, then smiled helplessly at his persistence.
"Fine. Remember this: there are two primary nadis or energy channels inside the human body used to carry energy in the first stage, Ida and Pingala. They stretch from the nose down to the navel. Through them flows the essential energy called prana. These channels aren't like blood vessels, they exist in a hidden state. You said you saw two channels in your body, didn't you?"
The boy scratched his cheek. "Forget about them for now. what is prana exactly?"
She folded her arms, her translucent form flickering faintly in the orange light of the dying sun.
"Prana," she said slowly, "is the power source of anything, a primordial energy born with existence itself. Every being, living or dead, contains it. Just they simply never learn how to perceive it."
The wind howled across the cliff face behind them, scattering dust like drifting embers. The waves below crashed with a deep, brooding rhythm that made it feel as though the sea itself was listening to their conversation.
The boy gazed toward the churning horizon, then back at her. "So animals can use it because they awaken it instinctively?" She nodded. "Yes. They follow instinct rather than technique. Their minds don't get in the way." He tilted his head, thoughtful. "Hmm… makes sense."
She picked up the thread again. "There are 17 nadis in your body."
He immediately cut in, "Eighteen. I counted them."
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly as realization settled into her eyes. "Ahhh... Eighteen… so that path belongs to that energy…."
Her voice lowered into a whisper. "Life really is unpredictable. Someone receives what others chase for lifetimes… and someone else…"
Instead, she continued the explanation. "Those eighteen nadis connect at one hundred and eight marma or junction points. From those points, they branch into different amount seventy-two thousand smaller nadis. Then into three and a half lakh tiny networks. There are sixteen adharas or energy reservoirs. Eleven organs. Three granthis - at the navel, heart, and forehead. Seven dhatus: plasma, blood, muscle, fat, bone, marrow, and vitality. All must be purified at the end."
The boy nodded with exaggerated seriousness.
She smacked his forehead lightly.
"Don't make that face."
He chuckled. "Alright, alright… continue."
She softened. "All this belongs to the path of the physical body. But remember, there are two main paths: body cultivation and soul cultivation. For the soul, there are eight chakras you must awaken. You'll learn about them later."
She looked at him suddenly, her expression serious, almost heavy. "And listen… you must not let emotions control you. You may think you have control now, but power like yours spills over when emotions stir. Even a moment of imbalance can turn your strength into destruction. Six poisons ruin every cultivator: lust, anger, greed, attachment, ego, and envy. If you let them grow, everything you gain, everything you become, will collapse."
He swallowed.
"Promise me, little boy. Until your last breath, you will never use that power in corruption. And don't rush. Your mastery is still incomplete." The boy pressed his lips together. "I promise."
To be Continued...