Hector placed his hand over the plant pot, and the light particles again bubbled off the water’s surface. It was enchanting. Before he knew it, the condensed ball of light particles floated over the back of his hands, dripping water onto the soft soil of the plant pot—though, Talent pot would probably be a better name.
He pulled his hands back.
Crossing his arms across his chest, he regarded the pot. “I can’t wait to see what you will become.” There was so much hope in front of him, and it filled him with a feeling he couldn’t describe, but whatever it was, it swelled the more he observed the pot.
I should get going. Mirae will be back soon, and I don’t want to be knocked out by a pillow.
“System, end the Talent Garden space.”
The world around him, like so many times before, fell away like paint. The Talent pots, the pedestals, and the void. It all dripped away before the colour of reality frothed and churned back into being.
His eyes fluttered open. He was in his room again. The clothes pile that had been gathering in the corner was gone. He smiled; it wasn’t a surprise that Mirae had picked it up. But it was still nice to see that she did—he appreciated everything she did for him. Hopefully, someday, he could repay her.
He raised his arms, stretching as he let out a thunderous yawn. It wasn’t like he was tired—cultivating provided more than enough energy. But it was satisfying to let out a yawn after a particularly long session. It had become almost a ritual.
He pushed off the ground, hopping to his feet with a grunt.
It was time to get going, and he doubted Mirae would wait much longer for him to show his face. He reached down, grabbing the meditation mat’s edge and yanking it up. He flicked it forward, directing it under his bed. It hit the ground with a hard slap, skirting underneath it.
He dusted his pants off and made his way to the exit, moving with a slight skip in his step. His two lives had been merged for a few days now, but things were truly starting to happen—things that were in his control, anyway.
And hopefully, with some luck, he would see some payoff soon. He strolled down the creaky hallway as images of the possible futures played in his mind. They were all fantasies—but that wouldn’t last long. He would make them a reality.
He walked into the kitchen. Smiling, he nodded at his dad—now sitting behind the table, as usual. His bruises looked better today. The swelling had gone down, and the cuts he had from yesterday had mostly scabbed over. He was on the mend.
“How was work, Dad?” Hector said, pulling out a chair. Mirae paused, narrowing her eyes at him as she slopped a scoop of grim-grain into a bowl. She was most definitely a little annoyed that he had taken too long. But she would understand one day, then all would be forgiven—well, he hoped so anyway.
“It wasn’t too bad today. Same old, same old.” His dad said. He wrapped his rugged fingers around the whiskey glass, lifting it gently and bringing it to his lips. “How about you? Mirae was just telling me she had a good day at the dojo.” He punctuated his question by narrowing his eyes at Hector, taking a small sip of his whiskey.
Hector chuckled. “It was a good day. And Instructor Kamble believes she has a good level of Talent.”
“He said that, did he?” His father lowered his glass, resting it on the chipped surface of the table. He brought his hand to his chin, stroking it as he regarded Hector. “Well, if she is enjoying it, I suppose it isn’t too much of an issue. You are enjoying it, aren’t you?” He turned to Mirae.
She walked over to the table, two bowls of grim-grain resting in her hands. “Yes, a lot. I think I could surpass Hector at the rate I’m going.” She plopped the bowls down onto the table, sliding them over as she giggled.
His lips quirked in a smile—if it was an act or not, it didn’t matter; he would make sure she didn’t feel like she was failing her cultivation in the future. He pulled the bowl towards him and picked up the spoon to his side.
“Oh, really? You hear that, Hector? You are gonna have some competition,” his father said, dipping his spoon into the thick bowl of porridge. He brought it to his lips as Mirae pulled her own chair out and sat with her bowl. “You will do me proud, girl.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said, digging into her own porridge.
Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Hector watched as his family began to eat. Leisurely. Warm. Comfortable. The clanking of their spoons against the ceramic of their bowls was like a soft melody being played on a family piano.
I won’t lose this. As soon as I’m done, I’m finishing the growth of that Talent seed.
----------------------------------------
Emela followed her mother down some winding stairs—she had never noticed them within the manor prior to this. The whole thing seemed old; the walls were crumbling, and the steps were worn with the footsteps of countless people. Nox trailed behind—the girl was as silent as ever, especially with Emela’s mother around. Emela wished she’d at least throw in a word or two, but none were forthcoming.
“Where are we going mother?” she asked, ducking to the side, almost hitting a torch holder that was awkwardly falling off the wall—the thing had more than served its time and needed to go.
Her mother, dressed in her white leather battle robes and pair of white pumps, walked on. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and Emela could see her face as she continued down the winding steps. She wasn’t going to answer her question—not like she ever really did. It was as if she wanted her to learn from silence. It made her want to scream.
Their group continued to walk down the stairs for a few moments. Finally, they exited the staircase and entered a cave. It was fairly large. Sharp rocks hung from the roof, water dripping from their points. Further in, a boardwalk trailed over the edge of a lake that shimmered off into the distant darkness of the cave. The walkway was lit by six torches—they appeared to be in much better condition than the ones they had seen on the way down.
“Take a good look, my love,” her mother said. She strutted further in, walking to the beginning of the boardwalk, then turning to face her. “Come on, then.”
Emela stood frozen—what exactly was she meant to be seeing? It was just an underground lake of some sort. She walked forward, throwing a quick glance behind her. Nyx didn’t seem particularly fazed by the whole thing—it was as if she had seen it all before. But that was impossible; the girl never left her side.
“What are we doing here, Mother?”
“Oh, that’s a good question,” Emela’s mother said, her lips quirking into a smile. “This is your punishment.”
“Huh?”
Her mother moved over to her, placing a hand on the small of her back and ushering her down the boardwalk. Emela’s eyes darted from its edge to the casual smile on her mother’s red lips. “I don’t understand—how is this a punishment? I’m more than able to swim.”
“But can you suffer?” her mother asked.
I hate it when she asks that.
A sense of dread welled up in her chest. Thick. Unyielding. Poisonous. Whatever her mother was planning, she would not enjoy it—if she was honest, she never enjoyed much of what her mother planned. Indeed, whatever she was doing, Emela would most likely hate it.
She and her mother stopped at the edge of the boardwalk, Nyx trailing behind. Emela looked down at the water. Its surface was still, only shaken by the occasional ripple—there was something in there. Her skin began to crawl, muscles tensing as she glanced at her mother. “Do I have to?” she asked.
“Hmm? Why would you not have to? And you never answered my question. Can you suffer?” Her mother removed her hand from Emela’s back, glancing up at the ceiling, and then back at her. “You will do this, and it will be good for you. Trust me, my love.”
I don’t know about that. But she has never done something that wouldn’t benefit me. Well, aside from the whole marriage thing.
Emela swallowed hard. She wouldn’t be leaving here without doing this, so she might as well suck it up. She rolled her shoulders, glancing at Nyx, then nodding at her mother. “I think I can suffer. I’m ready.”
“Excellent,” her mother said, her lips parting to reveal perfectly white teeth. Mana cultivators in the Core Formation realms had such enhanced features that if you were not used to it, you would be caught off guard. But Emela found herself excited because she would have those same benefits one day. Just five more minor realms to go.
Her mother raised her arm, flicking her fingers up. A block of ice erupted underneath Emela, throwing her into the air, screaming out her lungs out. She splashed against the water, sinking beneath its freezing surface.
Oh my, this is so cold.
Emela’s legs kicked out as she fought the urge to lock up. Doing so would mean nothing but death, and drowning was not her ideal way to go. Emela kicked and kicked, her hands clawing through the water as she moved to the surface.
Breaching, she took a deep breath of freezing air as her body shivered in the cold lake waters. Emela’s mother stood at the end of the boardwalk with a small smile. “How is the water, my love?” she asked.
Emela resisted the urge to scream—it would use up more energy than she had, and she needed to keep kicking. Both to stay warm and to keep afloat. “It’s fine,” she said, teeth chattering.
Nodding, her mother glanced to the side, her attention apparently moving to Nyx. “Don’t you think you two should be doing this together?” her mother asked.
Before Nyx could respond, Emela’s mother raised an arm, flicking her finger forward. Another block of ice shunted out of the ground, launching Nyx through the air. She arced like a ball—her face still as calm as ever, as she splashed down next to Emela.
Emela’s hands jerked up, shielding her eyes, as small waves rocked her body. She glanced at her mother. The woman looked at Emela, her arms crossed and an easy smile on her lips. “Good, now the real punishment can start. I think you will thank me for this.”
I really don’t understand this woman. Nyx didn’t even do anything wrong.
Her mother quirked an eyebrow, obviously noticing the confusion on Emela’s face. “Even if the girl was just following your orders, she must still accept responsibility for your actions. It is her job, after all.”
Nyx splashed to the surface. Emela continued to kick, her teeth chattering all the while. Nyx looked much the same as usual—though her short black hair was now soaked, and Emela could make out the faintest shiver on her body.
“So if you have no questions, I would like to get things started,” her mother said.