For Mythra, the next couple of weeks flew by, though the anticipation of cultivation made his rest days feel, painfully slow. His mother and the other sisters would frequently visit his room, chatting with him, fussing over him, and showering him with affection. They ensured he was fed regularly, with generous portions at each meal. His mother explained that Favner had instructed them to provide him with extra food to support his recovery, emphasizing that the treatment required additional energy from his body. While this was the truth, the dwarf had still managed to hide the important details of the treatment, a relatively impressive feat considering the reason for the request was directly attributed to the nature of Mythra's newfound cultivation.

Following his vision, Mythra had harmonized with the earth element, allowing him to sense two new energy sources within his body: earth mana and prana. While his mana felt alive, providing his body with extra energy, calming his emotions, and stabilizing his thoughts, his prana was lifeless, like a mass of black obsidian—solid and motionless at the base of his spine.

In recent days, all of Mythra's cultivation efforts aimed to infuse his prana with life and motion by merging it with his earth mana. The only way to do this was to constantly bombard a section of his prana with a concentrated beam of earth mana. It was a difficult process, but it would cause his prana to transform from a solid to a liquid state, resembling molten lava as it coursed through the channels within his body. Once prana assumed a red liquid form, it ceased to be classified as prana; instead, it was recognized as fully refined root chakra. However, this process exacted a heavy toll on Mythra's mana reserves; it took nearly all his earth mana to cause a tiny chunk of prana to change its state.

Though depleting mana was far less lethal than depleting prana, it was still extremely uncomfortable. It would cause Mythra to feel as if he were in a mental fog, struggling to maintain focus as negative thoughts and emotions clouded his mind, leaving him feeling lost and overwhelmed. The only way to restore his mana was to nourish it with a similar qi, which meant he had to eat foods that better absorbed earth qi. So, to his great displeasure, his current diet predominantly consisted of root vegetables and seeds. Over the past seventeen days, he had endured countless meals featuring potatoes, carrots, beets, squashes, nuts, and beans, prepared in various forms. Tonight's dinner was butternut squash soup, potato curry with peas and carrots, beet hummus, and a stack of freshly baked pita. Oh, how he loathed it.

Mythra eyed the tray before him, trying to suppress the urge to gag. Squash and beets again? I can't stand squash and beets! He lamented.

Grasping a slice of pita, he dipped it into the potato curry, grateful for at least one tolerable option on the tray. He enjoyed the rich flavorful bite. Isa was an excellent cook, and her curry was always a treat, even if it was sorely lacking in meat.

Reaching for the mug filled with watery wine, he took a long sip, relishing the sugary flavor of the grapes dancing on his tongue. Lately, his senses seemed heightened, a sign, according to Favner, of his third eye chakra awakening. Mythra could barely wait for the moment to arrive. With the harvest approaching, he longed to walk again. Not only did he wish to assist Favner, but he also didn't want to miss the town festival.

From his window, he observed the town bustling with festival preparations. Lanterns of various hues adorned archways, casting a warm glow throughout the streets. Hunters returned from the forest with fresh game for the feast, and door gods were placed on doorways, the people paying their respects to the various gods that brought the harvest; hoping for protection and prosperity in return.

Soon, people would dress in their festival attire and gather around the pyre to sing, dance, and drink under the stars. Stalls offering a variety of games and treats would be set up for children to enjoy. The festivals had once been the most magical times of the year for Mythra. However, things were a little different now that he had learned of actual magic.

I guess every day is magical now, huh? Mythra mused, reflecting on how his perception had shifted since delving into his newfound abilities.

Mythra hadn't experienced any visions since his first day of cultivation. He began to wonder if it had been a one-time occurrence or perhaps just a dream. Had I fallen asleep back then? He thought with a smile as he lowered the mug from his lips. He shook his head, dismissing the notion as he recalled Favner's attempt at "reassurance" during their last cultivation session.

"You have to learn to crawl before you’re ready to run, Lad," Favner had said. "That’s why the guardian showed you the door the first time. You won’t see hide nor hair of 'em until you're better prepared. You gave ‘em enough disappointment on the first go-round.” While Mythra had most definitely not been reassured he at least, felt motivated to improve.

Initially, his root chakra had been a thin trickle, that he barely noticed. However, thanks to his efforts over the past couple of weeks, it had begun to take the form of a small spring, and Mythra had started to feel the difference.

The most significant change was that he now had a definite sense of his root chakra. After a week of cultivation, he began to feel a gentle sensation, akin to someone giving him a light massage. When he asked Favner about this sensation, Favner explained that it was the feeling of his root chakra flowing through his body. This revelation had left Mythra feeling elated; as if he had made some tangible progress.

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And now, what had initially felt like a light massage had evolved into a relaxing dip in a warm bath; his chakra flowed through him, relieving him of all stress, pain, worries, and tension. His body felt sturdier, or, at least, that's how it seemed to him. His skin felt tougher, and his fists didn't hurt even when he punched the stone walls of his bedroom. A fact he had discovered by pure coincidence; it's not like he had punched a wall in frustration after failing to awaken his third eye chakra for the seventh time. Surely not, such a minor setback could never cause a ripple in his mind, especially after it had been tempered by root chakra.

Glancing over at the block of sandstone that framed his windowsill, he noticed a small crack marring its surface. He sighed; no matter how composed his mind had become; he couldn't shake off the slight anxiety about finally awakening his third eye chakra. The desire to walk again weighed heavily on him. Despite his mental strength, the anticipation was starting to feel overwhelming. However, he couldn't rule out the possibility that being cooped up in bed for nearly three weeks contributed to his frustrations.

He leaned over, opened the drawer of his bedside table, and retrieved his traveler's pouch. Delving into it, he rummaged for the necklace that Favner had given him. The dwarf had cautioned him against cultivating without his supervision, but, recently, Mythra's anxiety had waged war against his reason, and, in a stunning turn of events, the anxiety had emerged victorious. His first solo attempt had occurred two days ago; this would be his second.

His hand felt the silver chain of the necklace, but it was wrapped around something. He pulled both objects out of the pouch. Somehow, the necklace was wrapped around his knife. He untangled the two and started toying with the knife. His blade always gave him a sense of comfort and confidence. He thought about it and decided, he’d try holding the blade while he meditated this time; maybe it would help, maybe, it would keep him calm. He placed the necklace over his head so that, the pendant rested against his heart. He adopted the meditative pose he had done countless times before, only this time he pinched the handle of his blade between the fingers of his left hand.

He focused on his breathing, sinking deeper into a meditative state. Meditation had always come easily to him, and, with practice, the transition had become almost instantaneous. But today felt different. As he delved deeper, it wasn't the familiar comfort he normally encountered; instead, it felt like his mind had been forcefully dragged somewhere, distant. He attempted to open his eyes, but they remained shut. He couldn’t see anything and couldn’t hear anything, not even the sound of his own heartbeat. The only thing he felt, was a persistent chill, that penetrated his bones, drilling into him like a dip in the frozen sea in winter, or, maybe, this was worse.

Oh shit, am I dead?! Is this death?! Is this why Favner fucking warned me not to cultivate without supervision?! Why hadn’t he been clearer with his damn warning?! Shit?! Dammit Mythra, you idiot, now what? A lot of good those legs will do you now! No, no, it's impossible… right? There’s no way I just died like that. Please, don’t let me be dead. Ninmah, please let me wake up. Let this all be a dream, yeah, that’s it, a dream; I must've fallen asleep.

Mythra struggled to wake himself, but all his efforts were useless. Dammit, why did this have to happen to me? Why does it always have to happen to me? Why is fate always bullying me? Fuck you!

In the void, Mythra lingered for what felt like an eternity. Initially, his emotions swirled chaotically, his mind attempting to stave off the silence by filling it with his inner monologue, but it offered little solace. Eventually, he surrendered, embracing the darkness and the cold emptiness that enveloped him. Whatever, maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe, I’ll be reborn! Yeah, a second chance! Maybe, I’ll be born in an upper realm. Maybe, I’ll be born a god. How great would that be, huh? Who am I kidding? I'll be lucky if I'm reborn at all. Please, Mom, anyone, save me.

Suddenly, he sensed warmth from somewhere in the distance. He fumbled about, seeking the source of the heat; he'd do anything to dispel the chill that froze him, the chill, that made his thoughts feel sluggish; he was so tired. He wanted to fight, but what was the point? What was he even struggling against?

It's hopeless anyway. I'm already dead, so what's the point of struggling for a bit of warmth? He thought despairingly, but inexplicably, the warmth grew hotter, and hotter, until it could no longer be ignored.

Am I drawing closer to it? He tilted his head towards the burning heat, and off in the distance, he spotted a tiny blue speck of light. His mind raced with questions.

Is that… Is that the light of reincarnation? Am I going to be reborn now? Have I finally left this hell?

He attempted to draw nearer to the light, but no matter how much he struggled, it remained just as distant. And so, he waited. Centuries passed, then millennia. He endured until time lost all its meaning.

When he finally reached the source of the light, it seared him to the core. He was on fire, no, he was fire. The light wasn’t blue as he’d originally thought; it was white and, it was, blinding. He waited for the light to purify him and burn him to nothingness, but his time never came, so, he walked. He walked into the white expanse until he encountered something that made him pause his steps.

A young girl was lying down just a few steps ahead of him. Her hair was made of flowing blue flame, her skin porcelain white, and she was draped in what looked like a cloak made of shimmering sapphire feathers. Curled into a ball, she emitted gentle snores as she slept blissfully without a care. She was more beautiful than the stars in the sky, she was positively radiant. Mystified, he approached her.

Is she reincarnating as well? Maybe, she knows what's going on here. Mythra thought hopefully.

As he neared her, the intensity of the heat increased. It burned his very existence as if it disdained to be near him, as if, it disdained to be near anything. Despite the swelter, he moved closer to inspect her, and as he did, he noticed something hard to see floating above her head. Something so brilliant that even looking near it stung his eyes.

What exactly is that? His curiosity got the better of his reason and he tried to look directly at the object, and his next thought was: Pain! Unimaginable, indescribable, pain. He emitted an agonized scream, but the girl remained undisturbed, oblivious to his torment.

Wait, he raved, there's no sound in this land so how can I hear my own screams? That's when it dawned on him; it wasn't his voice shrieking in agony, it was his soul's.

The world plunged back into darkness, and he lost all sense of reality, but the wail continued. It seemed it would never end.

Please, just let me die! He whimpered, but suddenly, he felt a forceful tug on his soul as if someone were dragging it away from this damnable place.

A furious, bestial roar, echoing with the authority of a king, thundered, "Boy, wake the hell up!"