2nd of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt was at a loss, unsure what to do. Both women shut themselves in their bedrooms while some unfortunate guy’s stuff clogged his. Worse, he could not just throw the junk out, on account of the late guy’s girlfriend, who in turn did not want to see or touch those things.

What the hell?

Fortunately, the cavalry arrived just in time.

The door opened a bit too forcefully, and a tall man with broad shoulders, short curly hair, and thick lips walked in.

“You our new roommate?” he asked Newt, who had to look up to meet the man’s gaze.

Newt nodded.

“Greetings, I am Newstar.” For some reason, his hello lacked the impact of Dandelion’s greetings, since the newcomer ignored him and just scanned the room.

“I’m Obsidian, come with me.” Obsidian led Newt out the room, down the stairs, and out of the building.

He looked left and right, grabbing Newt’s upper arm, then let go as if scalded.

“Holy shit! Snake!”

“Holy ssshit! Human,” the tiny python hissed back, glaring at Newt’s roommate.

Is repeating what they hear a snake thing? Do they understand humans? Newt recalled how Magmin mimicked him when they first met. Heavens, that seems like centuries ago.

“I need to go put this little fellow back in the forest,” Newt explained. “But I left my robes in the window.”

“Nothing will happen to them, nobody visits our room anymore. Let’s go.”

With hardly a thought, Newt followed a man a good head taller than him and almost twice as wide as he was into the unknown forest, with a jittery snake wrapped around his arm.

“You promisssed, you promissed,” the snake hissed, but relaxed when they reached the cover of the trees, and unwrapped itself from Newt’s biceps when Newt stretched his arm out towards a tree.

“I am sorry for your loss.” Newt used the short stroll to think about what he should say and how to say it. No matter what he said, it would not change the fact that his roommates had lost a teammate and a friend, but there were some things he needed to say. “I don’t wish to replace your friend. I understand you recently returned from a mission, and that the wound is still fresh.”

“We returned more than a year ago, but Jasmine and Roselilly—” Newt’s skin crawled at the name. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, sorry. Unpleasant memories associated with that name; you were saying that more than a year has passed?”

Obsidian held Newt’s gaze for a moment before slowly nodding. “Yes, more than a year has passed, but they aren’t moving on. They blame themselves for what had happened, but ultimately, it was Bluestream’s choice, and an aberrant stegosaur that proved too strong for us. They don’t even want to visit the soother, and alone as they are, seeking the bottom of the bottle rather than help, they will stagnate and get demoted.”

Newt’s faltering ability to follow Obsidian’s torrent of words finally fell apart, as more and more unknowns assailed him, scrambling his understanding. “Excuse me, I’m new. What is a soother, and why will they get demoted?”

“You get demoted to the outer sect after not clearing a mission for a long time and if you don’t advance your realm for a long time. The term long time is relative, so we can still hold on for a while, but our future is bleak. I will just go back into the inner sect in six months where I will form a new group, but Jasmine and Roselilly will keep sinking.”

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Why the hell did Elder Alabaster put me here? Does she want me to fail and go through the outer sect and into the inner sect, or does she want me to reform this dysfunctional team, or is it something third?

Newt’s mind drifted to the most horrifying possibility. Maybe Elder Alabaster was just pulling a practical joke. It was possible. The more he thought about it, the likelier it seemed. Luckily, Obsidian kept talking, pulling Newt out of the whirlpool of doubt.

“Soothers are people specialized in helping cultivators overcome their heart demons, fears, bottlenecks, and anything else that may hold us back from advancing. Losing your family, loved ones, and team members is often the source of heart demons and unresolvable regret.”

Newt could not believe what he was hearing.

“There are cultivators focused on helping others clear their heart demons?”

Obsidian shook his head. “Soothers are mortals.”

Newt gawked.

“Cultivators don’t have the time to experience life the way mortals do, and we spend too much time isolated, so our understanding of loss and sorrow is much shallower than that of an old man or woman, who lived to bury their grandparents and their grandchildren. But there are young soothers as well, people with talent and those who led turbulent lives.”

A sudden storm started in Newt’s mind, but no matter how he looked at it, the notion made no sense.

“But they are just mortals. They don’t understand our needs, past the second realm, cultivators are like a different species, and the differences continue to grow the higher the realm. What can a seventy-year-old woman teach a cultivator who is seven thousand years old? How could she help?”

Granite shrugged. “Talk to them, if you want. They helped me.”

Newt was about to argue more, but then remembered Dandelion, and how Elder Frotsgrave treated him with respect and even complimented him, despite him being dozens of times younger. And did Dandelion not do the same to him, when Newt was also at least ten times younger? And what about Magmin? It was a snake, mere twelve years old when it set on the path of becoming a dragon.

“Thank you for the advice. I will talk to them.” Newt nodded, his mind calming. “Sometimes ideas and inspiration come from unexpected sources.”

Newt looked at his new roommate. He was more than a head taller than him, with broad shoulders. His teeth shone white against his dark-brown skin, his eyes hazel-colored, revealing sorrow and pain, mismatching his friendly smile. All in all, Obsidian seemed like a good, benevolent man, someone Newt would enjoy teaming up with.

“Do you mind telling me about your old team? I might be a poor fit for you.”

Obsidian looked at Newt, thinking the young man wanted to worm his way out of the predicament. He could hardly blame him. After all, he was also trying to salvage his own cultivation and future. Jasmine and Roselilly refused all his attempts to help them, and he had moved on. It was perfectly understandable for a stranger to do the same immediately upon learning of their circumstances.

“Jas and I are front-line fighters, earth element cultivators focused on power, endurance, and close range combat. Rose is dual water and air aligned, focused on the healing aspect of water with the added mobility of air. She is a disciple of an elder, but the old woman seems to have given up on her. Fez was pure air, scout and support, good at moving around and distracting enemies. He was a great asset on the battlefield, and a goofy, but reliable friend.”

Just by the way Obsidian said those last words, Newt could tell the big man was nowhere nearly as over the loss as he claimed, but unlike the two women, he was trying to pull together the fractured pieces of his old life and reforge them into something new.

“Thank you for sharing that. I actually think I might be a great fit for your team. I’m a fairly mobile fire-earth cultivator. Maybe we could spar some time and see where I stand. I’m the second layer of the third realm, by the way. What about you?”

“Third layer, and what do you mean you might be a great fit for our team? There is no team. It fell apart.”

“We should try to fix it. Do you plan to abandon your sister and friend?”

“You don’t understand, you never lost anyone. Look, the stego landed a nasty hit on Jas, Rose rushed to heal her, but misjudged the spirit beast’s speed and reach. The tail-spikes which wounded Jas would’ve smeared Rose all over the ground. Fez flew at her like an arrow, pushed her out of the way, then exploded like a sack of skin full of red paint.” Obsidian shuddered.

“It was a gruesome sight for me, but it was much worse for Jas and Rose. They were shocked, sprayed in gore of their loved one, and the stego almost wiped us out. I don’t even recall how we got away.”

Newt’s breathing turned shallow, and his face paled as he listened to the story.

“Wasn’t there an elder watching over you?”

Obsidian shook his head. “A Senior Apprentice Brother, but fights are done without supervision. All successful sects and major clans send their members on real trials, each with a chance for death. We underestimated the stego, and we paid the price.”

Newt started sweating. A fifth realm frostworm came awfully close to turning him and his friends into a red smear on the icy wall.