6th of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

“Stupid kid, you were practicing tracing without supervision.” Elder Alabaster said the instant Newt regained consciousness. She knew her disciple was awake even before he opened his eyes. “You were in an induced coma for a day and a half. You fried your heart, your lung, and boiled a good chunk of your right arm from the inside.”

Still dizzy, Newt thought the words were flat, emotionless, but as his senses recovered, he noticed a dagger-sharp undertone.

“I’m sor—”

“You’re sorry your ass. I gave you simple instructions, anything new or potentially life-threatening, you will practice around the northern training field or within its bounds. El is a friend, he will take extra care of you. But no, what do you do? Go into a soundproof room, into an isolated space where nobody will check whether you’re alive for hours, and burn off your heart!”

“Stop shouting, Al,” a flat male voice muttered, “you’re in the Chamber of Healing. And could you stop talking about me like I’m not in the room?”

“He’s lucky I can only shout at him,” Elder Alabaster hissed, but contained her voice. “I want to beat him half-dead with a stick, but he’s already half-dead. Do you know that any more damage to your heart, and you would’ve passed away in that soundproof room? You would have bled to death long before the outer disciple found you.”

Newt’s skin crawled at that, his breathing growing shallower.

“Oh, look, now he’s scared,” Elder Alabaster growled, shoving a pair of pinching fingers in front of Newt’s eyes. “This close! You were this close to dying, you dumb child!”

“Al, mind your volume.”

Newt could hear the two bicker, but their words went over his head.

I almost died? But, it was just a simple test, sending a surge of my energy through my body. It wasn’t even that strong.

“Master, what happened?”

“What happened is you almost killed yourself, busted out of a private chamber, called for help, then bled on the floor until a sixth realm healer came and patched you up. You owe the sect a bunch of contribution points for the medicine, around two hundred fourth realm spirit-gems worth of medicine to be more exact.”

Two hundred fourth realm spirit-gems? Newt’s still healing heart skipped a beat. Again, life smacked him with ungodly amounts of debt.

“Listen to me, and listen good.” Elder Alabaster stabbed Newt’s chest with a finger as hard as diamonds. “You will never, NEVER, experiment with your third eye. Never release energy from it unless you absolutely, positively understand all aspects of what you are doing, and even then a senior healer must be present the first time you are using a technique. If you had fried your brain like you did your heart and lung, you would have died on the spot. Even light damage to the brain can do funny things to a person. They might become a driveling madman, a plant drooling in some corner, or the damage might shift their mind into a demonic path.”

“Your master isn’t joking about this, Newstar,” Elder El said, his flowing words smoothing Elder Alabaster’s rocky jaggedness. “We have a healer in the sect who could save you from such damage, but even she has to act immediately to stop your personality from warping. The theory of soul anchoring and mind preservation are still beyond me, and will remain that way for a very long time. Your spiritual realm is a construct of spiritual energy, controlled by your soul. If your soul loses its anchor strange things may happen, and heart demons may flood your mind.”

Elder Elmshade’s voice turned softer still.

“Have you learned anything from this, Newstar?”

Newt considered all thoughts that went through his mind before he half-cooked himself.

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“Tracing has something to do with why I can’t see the spiritual energy inside elders’ bodies, unless they are releasing it through their techniques. It allows for finer control than working your techniques with raw spiritual energy, and it increases the speed with which the techniques are unleashed while decreasing—”

“Stupid kid,” Elder Alabaster interrupted. “El is talking about nearly burning yourself to death. A couple days ago, you mentioned harmless techniques, there is no such thing as harmless in cultivation. Death lurks behind every corner, and now you’re aware of that. You came this close,” Elder Alabaster once more gestured with her fingers, showing how close Newt came to dying, “to being an example elders give their disciples when warning against being careless.”

The woman stopped talking and folded her arms, glaring at Newt.

“It won’t happen again, Master.” The words were not empty, Newt meant them. If saving a bit of time or indulging in idle curiosity could get him killed, he would not do it.

“I will write down any ideas I have and test them in a safe environment.”

Elder Alabaster glared at Newt for several long moments before nodding very slowly. The subtle undertone of fear in his voice mollified her to an extent.

“Good. You can’t train for at least a week, and the healers want to keep you here to monitor your condition. I suggest you spend your time cultivating your realm.” She went over to the door and opened it. “I’ll introduce you to your seniors now.”

Four people entered the room, three of them at the fourth realm and one at the third.

“This is your first sister, Greenbow.” A woman who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties acknowledged Newt with a nod. She smiled an awkward smile, her eyes a mix of pity and disbelief.

Newt eyed the rest, and they all held that gaze, which seemed to say, ‘I can’t believe you’re that stupid, but at least you survived.’

I guess I deserve that.

Greenbow had brown hair and a stocky figure, her thick arms looked like she could rip the tail off a brachiosaurus.

“Greetings, first sister.”

“Hello,” Greenbow said, her voice mild and pleasant, but she only got to say that one word before Elder Alabaster spoke again.

“This is your third brother, Stegorock.” Stegorock smiled more earnestly than his senior sister. The man was short and slim, his figure resembling Elder Flameax’s, but his black hair flowed down his back, and his face was free of facial hair.

“Greetings, third brother.” Newt kept the confusion out of his voice, guessing the second brother or sister was busy.

“Wish we’d met under better circumstances.” Stegorock flashed a pearly-white grin before Elder Alabaster moved on to the next disciple.

“This is Emeraldstreak, your fourth sister.” Emeraldstreak kept her face neutral as she inclined her head slightly. She had the densest spiritual energy out of all the disciples, and she was merely the fourth sister, meaning she was probably the most talented. She was tall, well built, and her yellow-and-green disciple uniform complemented her golden hair.

“Greetings, fourth sister.”

“Greetings.” Emeraldstreak’s voice was emotionless and disinterested. Elder Alabaster did not seem to interrupt her before moving on to the final person in the room.

“And this is your sixth sister, Goodair.”

“Greetings, sixth sister.”

“Hello, reckless little brother. It’s good to no longer be the youngest disciple, so could you please try not to kill yourself? Pleeease?” Goodair was slim and tall. She had fluffy dark hair sticking in every direction, making her head look like a giant puff-ball two feet in diameter.

Just as Newt was trying to come up with an answer, Greenbow spoke.

“Don’t mind Goodair. She’s an honorary airhead, born to a long line of air cultivators.”

“Hey!” Goodair tried to protest, but Greenbow kept talking.

“She doesn’t mean anything bad, we’re all here to help each other, and if you need anything, just shout. Me, third, and fourth are core disciples, while little sixth is an inner disciple, just like you.” She paused, pressing her lips into a thin line, hesitating whether to speak.

“Don’t do anything reckless. We have lost second on a mission two centuries ago, and fifth disappeared on a mission twenty-three years ago.” The woman spoke with a motherly tone, heavy with worry, but Newt focused on one thing.

The second brother or sister died two centuries ago. How old does that make Greenbow?

Greenbow stared at Newt, expecting something.

“Thank you for the advice and care, senior sister.” Newt bowed slightly. “I will take it to heart.”

“Just call me First, or Greenbow,” she smiled. “Whatever you need, feel free to tell us. We’ll do what we can to help you. I live in the core disciple house number seventeen, feel free to drop by when the healers release you.”

“I live in the house twenty-seven.” Stegorock chimed in, and Emeraldstreak remained silent until Stegorock elbowed her.

“House four.”

“I live on the fourth floor, room four-o-four. If you need anything, feel free to ask.”

New considered Goodair’s proposal and decided to take her up on it immediately.

“I’m from room five-o-three, could you tell my roommate I’m here, and that he should visit when he has the time?”