"For a change, I saw desperation on your face." The voice was calm, yet carried the weight of centuries.
"Days and nights spent trying to save the life of a child. Tell me... what was it that made you desperate?"
The old man sat cross-legged atop a stone slab at the center of a narrow river.
The waters flowed gently beneath him, weaving through the very heart of the Citadel. He sat unmoving, surrounded by the mist and stillness of Mount Qiyun's sacred peak.
Gein stood at the far end, leaning against one of the towering wooden pillars of the citadel. His eyes were fixed on the mountain's summit, as if searching for something that couldn't be seen.
"It was the first time I'd seen something like it," Gein said softly.
"Something was clinging to the boy, dark, desperate. It wasn't letting him die. And I feared if I left him… he'd suffer a death no one should endure."
He turned his gaze to the old man and continued with a steady voice.
"More than that… he had no one. No family. No place to belong. Just like us."
The old man remained still. Then, without emotion, he said,
"His fate was to die."
It wasn't a judgment. It wasn't cruelty. It was a statement. A fact.
He was The Seer.
"And now that he has defied that fate…" the old man continued, finally opening his eyes, "…the path ahead is clouded. I cannot see where it leads. He is a fracture in the stream of destiny."
Gein lowered his head respectfully.
"You'll have to guide him," the Seer said. "His past… it's not what he remembers. It is far worse than he knows."
Gein stepped forward and brought his hands together in a solemn clasp.
"Then I'll take full responsibility for him."
He bowed low, deeply.
The waters murmured beneath the stone slab.
Without another word, Gein turned and walked toward the gates, pulling them closed behind him, leaving the Seer alone, drifting into silence, already lost in meditation once more.
----
The doors creaked open again. This time, a man stepped in with a presence quiet but commanding.
He wasn't like the boy from earlier. He wore a white robe trimmed with silver thread, a string of pale beads coiled around his hand.
Unlike most monks, he had hair, black, wavy, pulled loosely behind his head. His eyes were a pale gray, calm and unreadable, and his skin was fair, smooth like carved stone.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties.
He walked without hurry with his gaze fixed on mine. Then he set down a cushion beside the bed and sat cross-legged, just like the boy had.
"You're doing better than I expected," he said, placing his palm lightly on my chest.
A wave of warmth spread through my body.
It wasn't painless, more like heat crawling through torn muscles, stinging and soothing at the same time.
The sensation etched into every nerve but carried comfort with it. Just like the fire chasing away frostbite.
"Gein," he said. "That's my name."
I opened my mouth. "Rove," I whispered with barely a sound.
"I know. Rove Hale," he replied, not missing a beat.
His eyes didn't waver. His voice was polite but there was steel in it.
The kind of discipline you didn't just learn, you lived.
"Your body was damaged beyond natural recovery. If it weren't for the core that manifested in the moment of your death... you wouldn't be breathing right now."
He paused.
"That core, it formed in your heart. At the edge of your life. And somehow, it kept you alive. Long enough for me to find you. Long enough to bring you here. Long enough for you to survive."
I couldn't respond. I didn't know how to process what I was hearing.
Gein continued, "Now that you're a conduit, your life is going to change. There are rules, ones you must follow."
His voice sharpened with clarity.
"You cannot reveal your abilities to the public. You do not harm those without power. And you will follow the laws of the Conduit Association."
The warmth inside me spread again, easing pain I didn't even know I had.
"Relax," he said. "You won't be able to move for a while. But that doesn't mean you can't begin to understand."
He leaned in slightly and lowered his tone.
"So listen, Rove. Listen carefully. Because what you've stepped into… is a world far deeper than you can imagine."
"The history of conduits can't be traced," Gein began with a calm and firm voice. "They've existed for as long as anyone can remember. Maybe even longer. But over time, they've built a world of their own. A world driven by power."
I watched him, trying to focus through the dull throb in my body.
"Normal people? They chase money. Fame. Comfort," he continued. "But conduits...our currency is strength. With strength, money follows. With strength, respect is forced. Power builds everything in our world. And so, the world of conduits turned cruel."
He leaned back slightly, beads clicking in his hand as he shifted his posture.
"The strong dominate. The weak kneel. That's the natural order here. Eight great families rule the conduit world. Each of them holds a legacy that's lasted for generations. Beneath them are their branches, lesser houses that serve them. And beneath those… thousands of smaller families, all clawing for a seat closer to power."
His eyes flicked back to mine.
"Then there are people like you. Unaffiliated. Orphans to the system. Sometimes they're picked up by families to serve or represent them, but only if they're strong enough to be useful. Your value… depends on what you can become."
He let that sit before continuing.
"There are four major tiers in the strength hierarchy. Initiate. Adept. Elite. And Apex. Within each tier are three ranks. You, right now, are a Rank 1 Initiate. The very beginning."
A pause. Just to matter-of-fact.
"Your core manifested late. Very late. Most conduits your age are already Rank 2 Adepts. That puts you at a disadvantage. Letting you walk into the conduit world now would be suicide. But since you're my responsibility… I'll be the one to train you."
His hand pressed lightly against my chest again. A familiar warmth spread through me.
"You can heal faster if you let your life force flow through your core. Your core… it's unique. I've seen many in my life, but yours is different. It wants to heal you. Use that. Let it."
He paused again, to check if I understood. He was measuring the pace. Letting the moment land.
"Normally, learning to channel life force takes time. But in your case, it should come easier. When I found you, your core had already activated, channeling energy on its own. That means your body has felt what it's like. It remembers."
"There are many methods for channeling," he added, "but for now… don't worry about all that. Your core already established a natural route to keep you alive. Interrupting that flow could delay your healing. We'll rebuild once you recover."
He removed his hand and lifted a single finger, pointing just above where my heart was.
"Now… close your eyes."
I did.
"Listen to your heartbeat. Don't rush. Just… hear it."
"When you can hear it, you'll feel a resonance. Like a vibration, subtle but steady. When it starts, don't try to control it. Just follow it. Let it move."
He paused one last time.
"At your stage, the direction doesn't matter. Forward, backward, it's all the same. What matters is that you find the flow."
And in the silence that followed, I listened, for the first time, not to the pain, not to the thoughts. Just to the rhythm buried deep inside my chest.
And just like that, I forgot how much time passed. Following the rythm in my heart my head burried itself into sleep.
As I progressed, the resonance increased, I could feel it flowing through my body. I could see and even manifest the same resonance if I wanted to.
With the passage of time, it felt like it had been a part of me naturally. From the very beginning.