Curious eyes followed Arin through Azuremist, some wary, others merely intrigued by the stranger Sera had brought from the Whispering Forest—a place locals clearly regarded with equal parts reverence and fear.
The village itself seemed to exist in harmonious contradiction—structures that appeared delicate as spun glass somehow supported hanging gardens of impossible density; pathways that glowed with soft bioluminescence wound between buildings that defied conventional architecture, some spiraling upward without visible support, others partially submerged in pools of liquid that rippled with colors no Earth water ever displayed.
"Is everyone staring, or am I just paranoid?" Arin whispered to Sera, trying not to make eye contact with a group of children whose skin shifted through pastel hues as they pointed and giggled.
"Both," Sera replied with characteristic bluntness. "You are paranoid, and everyone is indeed staring. Visitors from the Shadowlands are rare enough to warrant attention. Visitors who can channel Qi are unprecedented."
"Fantastic," Arin muttered. "I've always wanted to be a circus attraction."
A tall Aetherii with skin like polished obsidian approached, his movements so fluid he seemed to glide rather than walk. Elaborate patterns of silver light traced constantly shifting designs across his form, concentrated most heavily around his temples and hands.
"Sera," he greeted, his voice resonating with harmonics that made Arin's newly awakened Qi respond like a tuning fork. "The Council has been informed of your... discovery."
The way he said "discovery" made it sound like Sera had dragged home a particularly interesting piece of roadkill.
"Healer Voss," Sera acknowledged with a respectful inclination of her head. "This is Arin, bearer of the Wayfinder's Pendant and channeler of Celestial Qi."
Voss's eyes—solid silver without pupil or iris—fixed on Arin with unsettling intensity. "Impossible," he stated, though the evidence stood before him.
"And yet," Sera countered with a hint of smugness, "here we are."
Arin shifted uncomfortably under the healer's scrutiny. "Hi. Nice to meet you too. Loving the whole 'stare at the alien' vibe. Very welcoming."
Voss blinked, the motion oddly mechanical. "It speaks with unusual cadence."
"It is standing right here," Arin pointed out. "And it would appreciate being addressed directly."
A ripple of what might have been amusement passed through the silver patterns on Voss's skin. "Direct indeed. Come, the Council awaits, and they are not known for their patience."
He turned without waiting for a response, clearly expecting them to follow. Sera nudged Arin forward with a bony elbow.
"Remember," she murmured, "partial truths are safer than complete lies. The Council can sense deception, but not omission."
"That's not ominous at all," Arin replied under their breath. "Any other helpful tips? Should I avoid eye contact? Bow three times? Sacrifice a small animal?"
"Humor as deflection," Sera observed. "An interesting coping mechanism for your species."
"Thanks for the psychological assessment. I'll add it to my collection."
They followed Voss through the village center, where a fountain of what appeared to be liquid moonlight cast everything in a gentle silver glow. Aetherii of various forms went about their business, though all paused to observe the stranger in their midst. Some whispered behind their hands; others made gestures that might have been protective wards.
Arin tried to look confident and non-threatening simultaneously, which resulted in an awkward half-smile that probably appeared more constipated than reassuring.
Voss led them to the largest structure in the village—a building that seemed to be composed of living crystal, its surfaces constantly shifting and refracting light in hypnotic patterns. Unlike the other structures, this one emanated a palpable sense of power that made the hair on Arin's arms stand on end.
"The Hall of Echoes," Sera explained quietly. "Seat of the Council and heart of Azuremist's protective wards."
Before they could enter, a commotion erupted behind them. A woman—more humanlike than many of the Aetherii Arin had seen—rushed toward them, carrying a small child whose arm glowed with an unnatural light.
"Healer Voss!" she called, desperation clear in her voice. "Please, it's getting worse!"
Voss turned, his demeanor shifting instantly from aloof to concerned. "Maelis. What happened?"
The woman reached them, breathing heavily. The child in her arms—no more than five or six by human standards—whimpered softly, clutching an arm that pulsed with sickly green energy.
"She was playing near the eastern ward-stone," Maelis explained frantically. "She says she only touched it for a moment, but the ward-sickness is spreading faster than before."
Voss examined the child's arm, his silver eyes narrowing. "The wards are unstable since the Veil-tremors began. This is the third case this cycle." He glanced at the Hall of Echoes, clearly torn between his duty to present Arin to the Council and his healer's oath.
"The Council can wait," Sera decided for him. "A child's wellbeing cannot."
Voss nodded gratefully. "My sanctum is closer. This way."
They diverted to a smaller structure nestled between two ancient trees whose branches had grown to form a natural archway. Inside, the space opened into a circular room filled with plants Arin couldn't begin to identify, their fragrances blending into a heady mixture that made the Qi inside surge with unexpected vitality.
Voss directed Maelis to place her child on a table of what appeared to be living wood, its surface rippling slightly as if breathing. The healer's hands began to glow with silver light as he passed them over the child's injured arm.
"The ward-energy has penetrated deeply," he murmured, concern evident. "It resists conventional healing techniques."
The child whimpered again, tears tracking down cheeks that shimmered with a faint iridescence. "It hurts, Mama."
Maelis stroked her daughter's hair, her own distress evident. "Can you help her, Healer?"
Voss's expression grew grave. "I can contain it, but extraction will be difficult. The ward-energy has bonded with her Qi pathways."
Arin, watching from near the entrance, felt a strange resonance building—the Qi inside responding to the child's pain with unexpected intensity. Without conscious thought, Arin stepped forward.
"Maybe I could help?" The words emerged before Arin could consider their wisdom.
All eyes turned to Arin with varying degrees of surprise and suspicion.
"You?" Voss's tone made it clear what he thought of that suggestion. "This requires delicate manipulation of Qi by a trained healer. You are neither trained nor a healer."
"No," Arin agreed, "but I am different. And right now, different might be useful."
Sera studied Arin with narrowed eyes. "What are you sensing?"
Arin struggled to articulate the strange feeling. "It's like... the energy in her arm is vibrating at a frequency that's familiar somehow. Like it's... calling to me? That sounds crazy, I know."
"Most things about you sound crazy," Sera pointed out pragmatically. "Yet here you stand, channeling Qi that should be impossible for your kind."
Voss hesitated, clearly reluctant but also desperate to help his patient. "What do you propose?"
"I don't know exactly," Arin admitted. "But I think I can... redirect it? Like what happened in the forest with the Veilstalker, but more controlled."
"That is a significant assumption based on a single chaotic incident," Voss noted dryly.
"Do you have a better option?" Arin challenged. "Because from your expression, I'm guessing the answer is no."
The healer's silver patterns flickered with what might have been irritation. "The ward-energy is corrupted Qi. In theory, someone with natural channeling abilities might be able to recognize and separate it from the child's native energy. But the risk—"
"I'll take that risk," Maelis interrupted, her gaze fixed on Arin with desperate hope. "If there's any chance..."
Voss sighed, the sound like wind through crystal chimes. "Very well. But I will guide you," he told Arin firmly. "One misstep could cause irreparable harm."
Arin swallowed hard, suddenly questioning this impulsive offer. The confidence of a moment ago wavered in the face of actual responsibility. "Right. No pressure. Just don't permanently damage the child. Got it."
"Your species' reliance on humor during stress is most peculiar," Voss observed, gesturing Arin to the opposite side of the table. "Place your hands above the affected area—do not touch it directly."
Arin complied, hovering trembling hands over the child's glowing arm. Up close, the corruption was even more evident—veins of sickly green pulsing beneath the skin, spreading visibly toward the child's heart.
"Now," Voss instructed, his own hands taking position above Arin's, "close your eyes and focus on your Qi. Feel its movement within you."
Arin obeyed, finding the internal energy flow much easier to sense than before. It coursed through newly formed channels, vibrant and eager.
"Good," Voss murmured, his voice taking on a hypnotic quality. "Now extend your awareness beyond yourself. Feel the energy in the room, in the air, in the child."
This proved more challenging. Arin concentrated, trying to push awareness outward as instructed. At first, there was nothing but a vague sense of pressure. Then, suddenly, the perception shifted.
It was like putting on glasses after a lifetime of blurred vision. The world exploded into patterns of energy—Voss a towering pillar of controlled power, Sera a complex web of ancient, concentrated force, Maelis a gentle but protective glow, and the child...
The child's natural energy was beautiful—bright, innocent, uncomplicated—but it was being invaded by something that moved wrong, its patterns jagged and discordant where they should be flowing and harmonious.
"I can see it," Arin whispered, eyes still closed but seeing more clearly than ever before. "It's like... it's attacking her energy."
"Yes," Voss confirmed. "Ward-energy is designed to repel intrusion. When internalized, it treats the host's own Qi as foreign."
"How do I separate them?"
"You must resonate with the corrupted energy," Voss explained. "Match its frequency, then gradually alter your own until it follows. Like leading a dance partner."
Arin focused on the jagged green patterns, trying to understand their rhythm. It was chaotic, aggressive, but underneath lay a structure—a pattern that could be matched. Slowly, carefully, Arin adjusted the flow of personal Qi until it vibrated in sync with the corruption.
The effect was immediate and uncomfortable—a discordant sensation that set teeth on edge and made stomach churn. But the corrupted energy responded, reaching toward Arin's matching frequency like metal to a magnet.
"It's working," Voss said, surprise evident in his tone. "Now, gradually shift your frequency. Draw it away from her native Qi."
Arin began the delicate process, subtly altering the personal energy pattern while maintaining the connection to the corruption. It was like trying to tune a radio with mittens on—clumsy, imprecise, but gradually effective.
The green energy began to separate from the child's natural flow, drawn toward Arin's hands like poison being extracted from a wound. As it emerged, Arin could feel its wrongness more acutely—this was energy that had been twisted, forced into patterns it was never meant to hold.
"Where do I put it?" Arin asked through gritted teeth, the corruption now hovering between outstretched hands like a miniature toxic storm.
"Channel it into this," Voss replied, placing a crystal between Arin's palms. "It will contain and neutralize the energy."
Arin directed the corrupted Qi toward the crystal, which absorbed it eagerly, its clear surface clouding with swirls of green that gradually faded to transparency again.
As the last of the corruption left the child's arm, Arin felt a sudden shift—not in the external energy, but within. The Qi channels that had been forming since arrival in Elysion suddenly expanded, as if the act of healing had accelerated their development. Power surged through the new pathways, momentarily overwhelming.
Arin gasped, eyes flying open as the room spun wildly. Voss steadied Arin with a firm grip, his silver eyes wide with what might have been concern or fascination.
"Breathe," he instructed. "Your channels are adapting."
"Is that... normal?" Arin managed between ragged breaths.
"Nothing about you appears to be normal," Voss replied dryly.
On the table, the child sat up, examining her now-healed arm with wonder. "It doesn't hurt anymore!" she exclaimed, flexing her fingers experimentally.
Maelis embraced her daughter, tears of relief streaming down her face. "Thank you," she whispered, looking between Voss and Arin. "Thank you both."
Voss examined the child's arm with professional thoroughness, his expression gradually shifting from concern to amazement. "The corruption is completely gone," he announced. "Not suppressed or contained—eliminated. I've never seen ward-sickness healed so completely."
He turned his unsettling silver gaze to Arin, reassessing. "You channeled the corruption without any bleeding into your own pathways. Even experienced healers struggle to maintain such perfect separation."
Arin, still trying to adjust to the expanded Qi channels, shrugged uncomfortably. "Beginner's luck?"
"There is no such thing as luck in Qi manipulation," Voss stated firmly. "Only aptitude and training." He studied Arin for a long moment before coming to some internal decision. "The Council can wait another day. You require instruction before you face their scrutiny."
"Instruction?" Arin echoed.
"Your Qi channels are developing at an unprecedented rate," Voss explained. "Without proper training, you risk harming yourself and others when the power fully manifests."
Sera nodded in agreement. "I suspected as much when I saw your reaction to the Veilstalkers. Your instinctive defense was powerful but dangerously uncontrolled."
"So instead of meeting the potentially hostile Council, I get Qi lessons?" Arin clarified. "That sounds suspiciously like good news, which makes me immediately suspicious."
Voss's patterns flickered in what Arin was beginning to recognize as amusement. "The Council will still want to assess you. But they will be more favorably inclined toward a stranger who has saved one of our children and shown willingness to learn our ways."
"Political maneuvering," Sera added with approval. "Healer Voss is offering you protection through obligation. The Council cannot easily dismiss someone who has earned the village's gratitude."
"Huh," Arin said, genuinely impressed. "That's actually... clever."
"We may appear strange to you," Voss replied, "but we are not simple. Politics exists in all realms, including Elysion."
The child, now fully recovered, hopped down from the table and approached Arin with the fearlessness of youth. She reached out, touching Arin's hand with small fingers that left a trail of sparkling light where they connected.
"Your light is pretty," she said simply. "Different, but pretty."
Arin felt an unexpected lump form in the throat. "Thanks, kid. Yours too."
Maelis collected her daughter with another grateful nod to both healers. As they left, Voss turned his full attention to Arin.
"Your hands weren't meant for healing," Healer Voss said quietly, watching as the glowing wound on the child's arm faded to unblemished skin beneath Arin's trembling fingers. "The Qi responds to you differently—it obeys rather than collaborates." He exchanged a meaningful glance with Sera, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "Tomorrow, we begin your real training. The Oracle's mark demands nothing less."
Arin looked down at hands that still tingled with residual energy, remembering the strange sensation of the corrupted Qi yielding to will rather than technique. It had felt less like the careful guidance Voss described and more like... command.
"What exactly is the Oracle's mark?" Arin asked, voicing the question that had been building since first hearing of this mysterious prophecy.
Sera and Voss exchanged another of those meaningful glances that made Arin want to scream in frustration.
"It is the pattern your thread makes in the great tapestry," Sera finally answered. "A signature unlike any seen before."
"That tells me absolutely nothing," Arin pointed out.
Voss's silver patterns rippled with what might have been resignation. "The Oracle's mark is a designation of purpose. Those who bear it are instruments of significant change."
"Change can be creation or destruction," Sera added, her ancient eyes unreadable. "The mark itself does not distinguish between the two."
"So I'm marked for... something important, but nobody knows what?" Arin summarized. "That's incredibly unhelpful."
"Prophecy rarely concerns itself with helpfulness," Voss replied. "Only with truth."
Outside the healer's sanctum, twilight had deepened into true night. The village glowed with soft light from floating lanterns and bioluminescent structures, creating a scene of ethereal beauty that momentarily distracted Arin from the weight of these revelations.
Sera noticed the direction of Arin's gaze. "Rest tonight," she advised. "Tomorrow's training will demand all your focus."
As they left the sanctum, Arin cast one last glance at the crystal that had absorbed the corrupted energy. It sat innocently on Voss's workbench, clear and seemingly harmless once more.
But for just a moment, in the shifting light of the sanctum, Arin could have sworn the crystal pulsed with a familiar rhythm—the same rhythm that now flowed through newly expanded Qi channels, growing stronger with each passing hour.
In the distance, beyond the village wards, the Veilstalkers continued their patient vigil, their hunger a constant pressure against the protective barriers. And somewhere even more distant, in a chamber where fate itself took physical form, the Oracle of Fate watched a single thread glow brighter in the great tapestry—a thread that had begun to influence the patterns of all others it touched.