Red was snoring. Loudly. I wasn’t sure if it was the reason I woke up, but it was definitely the reason I couldn’t go back to sleep.

A light knock at my door startled Red awake. He thrashed, flipping over to face the noise, one ear sticking straight up while the other flopped backward, making him look completely ridiculous.

I rolled out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and cracked the door open to find a Sentarian standing in the dim hallway.

“Amituofo, Breaker,” he said in perfect Mandarin, bowing with his hands over his navel in the Sentarian way. “This decrepit monk is known as Narrin.”

As my eyes adjusted, I took in his appearance—bright teal robes draped in gold chains, an almost excessive amount of jewelry clinking softly with his movements. I blinked, realizing I was staring.

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you, Narrin. What time is it?” I replied in kind.

“It is before sunrise. This indigent monk has been sent to request your audience with Arryava Pusa, Archon of the Sentarian.” He bowed again, his jewelry rattling.

A small chuckle slipped out before I could stop it. I held up a hand. “Wait—doesn’t ‘indigent’ mean impoverished? What about all this?” I gestured at the sheer wealth hanging off him.

“Amituofo, Breaker. Material wealth is meaningless in the pursuit of Bodhi,” he said smoothly, as if that explained everything.

I sighed and glanced back at Red, who had already rolled over, thoroughly uninterested in following.

“Traitor,” I muttered at him. He huffed in response, kicking a back leg before curling up again. “Lead the way, Narrin.”

We walked for quite some time through the Tower, winding past the Atrium and up through the main doors into La-Roc. I hadn’t fully realized just how far down my room was until I had to walk the long way out.

Once we cleared the courtyard, Narrin veered left, bypassing Maris’s giant boat—still jammed in the road—and entered a half-destroyed building. Two doors later, we were descending into the old pathways, just like I had with Erik. The silence between us stretched on, and while I had plenty of questions, I couldn’t quite put them into words. Not that it mattered—Narrin was walking ridiculously fast.

We didn’t pass anything as spectacular as the animal chambers, but the tunnels eventually widened into larger, interconnected halls. The ground sloped downward, and smooth white marble floors transitioned into strikingly vibrant colors—white, red, blue—all accented with gold. Gold was the dominant theme, almost aggressively so. Massive golden statues of Sentarians performing intricate mudras lined the halls, their poses frozen in quiet reverence. If not for the alien-like figures, I could’ve easily mistaken this place for a Buddhist temple back on Earth.

Finally, we entered the largest antechamber I’d seen so far. Three enormous golden Sentarian statues sat atop equally massive lotus-shaped platforms at the far end.

Narrin approached about halfway and bowed so deeply I thought he might tip over.

“This one brings the Breaker as requested,” he announced simply. Silence followed.

“You may leave us, Narrin of the Broken Path.”

The voice was smooth, almost sultry, but it came from everywhere at once. I couldn’t pinpoint the source, and Bravery wasn’t giving me any clues.

Without hesitation, Narrin shuffled backward, still bowed, never raising his head. He disappeared from the room as quickly as he’d arrived.

I was about to call after him when I turned back—and nearly collided with a massive golden face, centimeters from mine.

I yelped and stumbled backward.

The statue danced gracefully back to its platform, and a mischievous laugh filled the air.

"What the fuck..." My words escaped before I could stop myself.

My gaze snapped to another statue—only, this one wasn’t quite the same. A figure perched atop its head, resembling the Sentarian but… different. Its chitinous body looked more like ceremonial armor, adorned with elegant flourishes and decorative paint. Two long antennae sprouted from its head, curving back like lingzi feathers.

“Arryava Pusa?” I asked.

“Ben Crawford?” Arryava’s voice was smooth and amused, but she was no longer where I was looking.

Bravery told me she was behind me. I turned—only to immediately feel her presence to my left. Anticipating a trick, I spun to the right instead.

She was right there, inches away, staring at me.

Up close, she looked even more striking. Her carapace was painted in vibrant colors, and her ridges were far more pronounced than those of any other Sentarian I’d seen.

She reached out and tapped my nose with one long, delicate finger.

“It is no fun if you figure it out right away,” she said playfully. “I can see why she was frustrated.”

“Who was frustrated?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

“Alan’dara Rocdem’leth Sa’morn’yun,” Arryava replied, effortlessly skipping across the room. “She was so very mad at you for solving her secret puzzle.”

I blinked, positive that whatever she’d just said had way too many apostrophes.

“Wait—you spoke with Dara? Is that her full name?”

Arryava giggled and practically glided away toward the back of the room. “It is! And when she told me the story, I knew I had to send one of mine to accelerate the timeline of our meeting.”

I frowned. “Accelerate?”

Arryava stopped mid-skip. “I do not know how customs work on Earth, but here, it is customary to follow the person you are speaking with, Ben Crawford.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry about that.” I jogged to catch up.

She slid a portion of the wall aside like it was a hidden door, revealing a lavishly decorated bedroom. A long balcony stretched across the far side, accented by towering pillars. Without breaking stride, she continued through the room and out onto the balcony. I followed—and immediately froze, stunned by the sight before me.

An entire city sprawled below us. Golden buildings with pagoda-like roofs stretched for kilometers, their polished surfaces gleaming under a soft, ambient light. The streets teemed with Sentarians, hundreds—no, thousands—moving in perfect harmony. They flowed around massive Trailbinders zipping toward larger roads, their forms vanishing into the depths of the metropolis.

But it was the structure in the distance that sent a ripple of goosebumps across my skin. A golden pyramid, its surface painted in the same vibrant hues as Arryava’s carapace, loomed over the city.

I couldn’t look away because I had seen one like it before.

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"Mo-Lei, our home on Ark,” Arryava leaned on the stone railing of the balcony with a sigh. “Do you know much about Spirit Realms, Ben Crawford?” she asked.

I shook my head, still staring at the city in front of me. It didn’t even occur to me that she couldn’t see the gesture.

“They are reflections of all things in the physical realm. Worlds like this one create hundreds, if not thousands, of them. We believe the realm you ended up in before coming here was a reflection of our home from ages past.”

She straightened and motioned for me to follow her back inside. She lowered herself onto a plush-looking pillow that, at first glance, could’ve passed for a massive beanbag chair. I sat across from her, sinking into the cushion, only to realize it was far more comfortable than I expected.

“I was told your people aren’t originally from Ark,” I said finally. “That you were refugees.”

“This is true. I brought my collective here not two centuries ago,” Arryava stated as if she hadn’t just casually admitted to being hundreds of years old. “I’d say around one hundred and fifty years. But I’ve never been good at keeping time. We are scattered, and as far as I know, this is all that remains of us.”

I blinked. “Do Sentarians live that long?”

She giggled and leaned forward. “Runebinders do, Ben Crawford. And as your connection with your soul grows, so will your lifespan.”

I gaped at her, my mouth working to form words, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. Too much new information, all at once. Arryava seemed to notice and raised a hand.

“I forget myself. Let me help you,” she said. “I have been advised that, by some chance, your people are familiar with our ways. Do you know what I am to my Collective?”

“Pusa,” I said simply. “A… Bodhisattva?”

Arryava’s eyes twinkled, and her mandibles parted slightly, almost like a smile. “I have not heard that term in a very long time. And karma demands I help you for it.”

“So you’re saying you have answers?” I asked, my confusion shifting into frustration. “That’s what you do, right?”

Arryava sighed deeply. “I’m afraid that any answers I can provide may only create more questions. And I may lead you to some that cannot be asked safely. But I will do what I can to guide you—karma must remain balanced.”

Questions that couldn’t be asked safely?

“Were your people fleeing the Caretakers?” I asked.

She hissed almost immediately, a sharp, visceral sound that made me flinch.

“Do not call them by such a name,” she snapped. “It is a self-imposed title meant to diminish their destructive nature. The Shi’an take no care, Ben Crawford. They are, and will always be, the enemy of all living things.”

Arryava regained her composure quickly, her tone smoothing back to normal. “Yes,” she said simply. “That tale is one I would love to recount to you, but it will not have value in this exchange. My duty is to prepare you for the realities of the near future. Even if that means readying you for a life beyond this world.”

My stomach tightened at the thought of being forced out of what had effectively become my new home.

“I don’t intend to let that happen,” I said, putting as much resolve into my voice as I could. “But a week isn’t a long time to prepare.”

Arryava laughed, bright and animated. “Do not let the limitations of others dictate yours.”

I grinned. “Now that’s some proper advice from a Bodhisattva.”

“I cannot describe how elated I am that the cultivation of one’s soul has manifested within your people, Ben Crawford. Even if only in a small amount, as Ferris suggested. We have some time, so please—ask your questions.”

I stared at her for a moment, hesitating as I tried to organize my thoughts. I had plenty of questions, but they all traced back to the original one—the one even Diana couldn’t answer.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why would the Shi’an want me? I’m no one special on Earth.”

Arryava visibly hesitated, then let out a long sigh. “I have met a few Humans in my long life,” she began. “Each with a soul as unique as leaves on a tree—strong, powerful. More like a Sentarian than a Gaian or Floran.”

She studied me, her gaze distant, as if weighing her words carefully.

“A very long time ago, when I was quite young, I met a man from Earth. His soul had such depth that even our Elders bowed to him, laying the foundation for what many in the Collective consider the Golden Age of our people. It was as if his spirit was a flame, and we were drawn to it.”

“And you think I’m like that?” I asked, incredulous.

“No,” Arryava said flatly. “But it is something. I could feel the weight of your soul the moment you stepped foot on Ark. The Shi’an covet souls, for they have none of their own. Perhaps yours is unique in a way they found interesting… or amusing.”

My mind shifted to the dark room I woke up in. The terrifying battle of two impossibly powerful forces around me that started this whole journey. I reflected on her words, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as my pulse quickened. Did this whole thing have something to do with Ted? With that strange world inside my soul?

Arryava caught my hesitation.

“You do not owe me more information,” she said politely. “But I would ask anyway. When Ferris assisted you with your foundational meditation, he described what he saw as… distinct. Do you have memories of any interactions with your spiritual self?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m interacting with myself… More like a guide?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it. If Ted was the reason I was here, that seemed like something I might have wanted to keep to myself.

But Arryava only nodded. “Your soul can manifest in many ways, but interacting with it directly is a boon. Most only receive glimpses—abstract concepts or fleeting impressions. To have a soul willing to guide its physical reflection?” Her mandibles parted slightly in her smile. “That is a rare and fortunate thing and possibly the very answer to your question.”

I nodded, taking in the information. It didn’t change much—I was here, and the Tournament on the horizon would determine if I got to stay—but at least knowing why helped untangle knots in my stomach I hadn’t even realized were there.

“Do you know what, or who, saved me?” I asked.

Arryava shook her head. “I cannot say. The level of power required to overpower a Shi’an in the Astral is beyond my understanding. If I were younger and more naive, I might have said a God. But they are long dead. Something that powerful, though, may as well be.”

I blinked. There was a lot to unpack in that statement.

“Uh… what’s the Astral?” I asked.

“It is the river that flows between the Spiritual and Physical realms, though it does not flow in one direction,” she replied, making a vague hand motion like that explained everything. “Portals in the Tower use it to connect two places at once.”

I stared at her, more confused than before. “I’m not sure I understand. That goes against so much of what I’ve learned.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to! Many dedicate their lives to studying it, yet even they can only glimpse pieces of the truths that bind reality together.”

She turned her head and made a subtle motion. The door we had entered through slid open, and five Sentarians stepped inside, carrying what looked like a long, ornate bathtub. The entire thing appeared to be made of Orichalcum. They set it down in the middle of the room, bowed deeply, then backed out with their heads lowered the entire way. Not a single word was spoken.

I leaned forward, peering into the tub. A blue liquid shimmered inside, thick and rich like honey. “What is that?”

Arryava giggled and stood. “Are you aware that I sit on the council of admissions at Sylvarus?”

I shook my head.

“Normally, I’d be preparing to administer entrance exams soon. But this Tournament has changed the rules quite substantially. Not even binding your Seal to your soul would be enough to get you into Sylvarus now. I am sad to say, your only path is to win.”

She ran a long finger through the liquid, and it rippled with an eerie blue energy. “This is a spirit-steel tub that I have attuned to your root affinities—Spirit, Life, and Light. It will resonate with your Seal.”

I reached out and barely brushed the surface with a finger—only to jerk back as a jolt of energy coursed through me. My mana pathways exploded with sensation, tingling as energy surged through my body like a live current.

“And that,” Arryava said with amusement, “is Golden Lotus Nectar. A specialty of my people and what we use to assist with forming our Seals. There are many ways to accomplish this, we prefer a more direct method.”

I gasped as the mana dissipated, leaving me feeling like I was about to burst. Such a small amount, and it was like I had taken another Class D healing pill—the energy was overwhelming. I looked to Arryava, who was watching me intently.

“Since no one thought to seek my input on your situation these past few days, I intend to to prove a point to those that lead this world—if you’re willing to help, of course.”

“What am I supposed to do with all this? Just that little bit filled me with more mana than I can handle. If I got into that tub, I think I’d die.”

Arryava narrowed her eyes. “We have a saying when it comes to this: Light the fire before you try to add more fuel.”

I furrowed my brow, processing her advice. Nodding, I reached for Valor and bound it, feeling the enormous pull on my mana pathways. My senses expanded instantly, and I froze. Two dozen Sentarians stood just outside the door, unmoving, their presence eerily still. But what truly staggered me was Arryava herself. With Valor active, I could perceive something about her that defied comprehension. It was as if she carried the weight of an entire world on her shoulders, a presence so immense it distorted my perception. Her body seemed more vivid, her colors more saturated, and her eyes sparkled with an emotion too vast to place.

“Now enter the tub, and we will begin your first step as a Runebinder. It may not be pleasant,” she said, motioning toward the enormous vessel. “If you reach your limit I will remove you safely.”

Shaking my head, I resigned myself to it. I swung a leg over the edge, my foot sinking into the thick honey-like substance. Electricity shot up my leg, and a sharp pain spread through my body. Gritting my teeth, I brought my other foot down, and the fire inside me roared to life. Every nerve felt like it was burning. I looked to Arryava, and she simply motioned me downward.

“Sit, meditate, and channel it all to your Seal. The sigil must be at full power.”

Valor blazed white hot in my mind’s eye. Maybe even in my actual eyes, it was so bright that I seemed branded into my vision.

Bracing myself, I lowered into the tub. The pain didn’t intensify, but I could feel my pathways straining, as if they had a limit to how much they could absorb at once.

“I will assist you with the process,” Arryava said.

She leaned over the tub, her antennae curling forward from behind her. They extended toward me, reaching for my temples.

I flinched, but the moment they made contact, the world went white.