Elder Raibu’s classroom was an octagonal chamber in the upper portion of one of the castle spires. Four massive windows overlooked Lake Hylia on one side of the room, while the other half gave access to the stair and a short hallway that led to a balcony over the main atrium. Sunwhisper was the last to arrive, and Raibu’s owl hooted at him disapprovingly from above the door frame as he entered.

Most of the class looked in his direction at the noise, with the noticeable exception of Ken Nana, who kept his gaze studiously forward. Janna gave him a pinched smile, and he received a few nods from the others as he took an open seat beside Empiti. Elder Raibu glanced at a crystal pocket watch, snapped it shut, and tucked it away in his robes.

“In the future, young master Jin, I would prefer that you arrived a few minutes early rather than exactly on time.” The elder had a slow, deliberate manner of speaking, just as he had a slow, deliberate manner of movement. The long tails of his mustache moved more than he did, swaying with each step.

“Now that we are all present,” he said, sighing slightly, “I can begin the lecture. It has come to my attention over the last several lessons that most of you are woefully ignorant in regards to basic cultivation theory. It is fashionable for the clans to teach the practical applications of technique without sparing a thought to the principles which should rightfully form the foundation of any pupil’s artistry. It is a deplorable state of affairs.”

In the center of the room, a boxy framework of bamboo sticks studded with quartz sat like an open question. On their first viewing, Starscream had insisted that Sunwhisper examine it more closely, but the framework lacked all but the most basic durability scripts, and the crystals retained their natural shape, unworked by a lapidary artist.

Elder Raibu was the first crystal artist they had encountered. Coupled with his silver affinity, it meant he could do some very interesting things. The bamboo structure functioned as what Sunwhisper recognized to be the magical equivalent of a hologram projector. Elder Raibu used it to generate large, three dimensional images as visual aids for the edification of his students.

He stood behind the frame, and a few lines of silver light flowed from his hands into the first piece of quartz, which blazed to life, followed swiftly by the others. Where at first the crystals glowed like miniature stars, the burning pinpricks softened as a semi-solid vision took shape around the frame.

Elder Raibu created a looping, glassy structure reminiscent of a compass star, with four main cardinal spikes and four smaller intercardinal points between them. It was an exquisite, three dimensional reimagining of the style of star that he carried on his own arm.

“The elements of cultivation are traditionally represented on a diagram like this,” he said. “Earth in the north, fire in the east, water in the west, and air in the southern position.” Along with his words, fist sized globes of each element appeared in their stated positions on the compass. Fire roiled, water rolled, and earth churned. Air was only visible by the whirl of dust caught in its eddy.

These were not illusions, Sunwhisper noted. They were not just figments of the mind. Elder Raibu was using mana to create objects with a physical reality. The fire would burn, and the water could be drunk. What would happen to the water you had drunk after the elder stopped sustaining it with mana was another question entirely.

“The specific placement of the four along the points of a compass is an arbitrary choice, an artifact of history and scholarship,” he said, causing the orbs to spin, flipping the diagram on its head so that earth was south and air was north. “It could have just as easily looked like this. Their relative positions, however, are immutable. Between each pair of the cardinal elements are their intercardinal counterparts, their children, if you will.”

At the point between earth and fire, a seed appeared. It sprouted, spreading roots, and raising a single, hopeful leaf toward a nonexistent sun. “The fifth element is wood. The first seed came into being when the fires of the solar beetle were trapped within the earth, and it grew into the first mortal tree. The dynamic nature of wood is evident in every camp and cooking fire. All it takes is a little flame to remind the wood of where it came from, and it will return to the realms of heat and light again.”

(Oh great, this world is nonsense all the way down.)

{There is some metaphysical sense to this model.}

(Metaphysical sense is an oxymoron.)

“As long as that energy is trapped in its earthly prison, wood exists, and it is capable of many wondrous things. Flexible, yet strong. Seemingly dead, but alive within. It carries with it a host of contradictions. Some have argued that wood is even more the element of life than flesh, and there is a healthy debate to be had on that account. For myself, I am content to note that the Tree of Heaven itself is said to have a burning heart, and without that heat, no life could spring forth upon its surface.”

This was not the earth science Sunwhisper was familiar with, but at least it seemed to have some internal consistency. There was probably some precedent even in the mysticism of earth humans before the revelations of Orobos for thinking about wood this way. Given that Hollow was a world suffused with magic, there was no reason why it shouldn’t function with its own kind of physics, its own internal logic.

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At the point between fire and air, a drop of molten metal appeared, slowly accreting into a hard and gleaming orb of steel. “Metal,” Elder Raibu continued, “the son of fire and air. It comes to us from the heavens, a divine fist burying itself in the earth or else content to sit exposed in an open crater. Like its half sibling, it will bend before it breaks, but it is not in its nature to ever completely return to the flame. When heated sufficiently, it becomes liquid, but that liquid will harden again when it cools.”

Did all the metal in Hollow come from meteors? That was an interesting idea. There didn’t appear to be a shortage of metal weapons and tools as far as Sunwhisper had observed. That was a lot of meteors. And where were they coming from? Did the solar beetle excrete metal?

“The contradiction of this element is in its birth. Its parents are the two most dilute elements, more forces than forms, and yet it is the most solid of the eight. Some have doubted this arrangement over the years, claiming that metal should hold a different seat on the compass. But it cannot be doubted that wherever lightning strikes, a little iron is left behind. On rare occasions, even silver and gold can come into being this way. No stronger evidence is needed for its origins, I should think.”

Well, that wasn’t exactly scientific. But again, Hollow followed its own rules.

Between water and air, there was a diamond.

“Water itself can become like a crystal when it is cool enough, or like air when it grows too excited. But a true crystal is formed only when air is trapped within water.” As Elder Raibu was a crystal artist himself, he had a lot to say about this element, and Sunwhisper listened to it with half an ear, recording the lecture in case he wanted to reference it later. He was thinking about what the instructor had said about the Tree of Heaven, that it had a heart of fire. The idea that magic had a specific source was foreign to most cultivators. Over and over he had heard the refrain that mana was in everything. The world soul was everywhere. There was no one source. Raibu’s comment about a heart of fire was the closest thing to a confirmation of his belief in a source, the Quintessence, that he had ever heard.

New students were not allowed full access to the academy library, as it was thought they would do more harm than good for themselves by self-study. Surely, though, he could find a text about the world tree, something that described its role as a source of life on Hollow. It was the first real clue he had come across about the possible location of the Quintessence.

Between earth and water, there was a man. The figure was small, barely a hand in height, and kneeling as if in prayer.

“The eighth element, flesh, is the most malleable of all. It can take a thousand forms, and yet for all its adaptability, it can exist only in a state of perfect balance. Too little water, and it will dry to death. Too much earth, and it will return to the soil completely. Flesh artists have an advantage over the rest of us in that their own bodies can be made to obey them with relative ease. But by the same token, they are often quite limited in their artistry, as their elemental mastery rarely extends beyond the personal sphere.”

With a twitch of his fingers, Raibu caused a hole to appear in the center of the compass, and the entire construct began to rotate around the empty space like the spokes of a wheel.

“Most scholars are content with these eight as constituting the whole of existence. In other words, all that is, is these.” His eyes flicked across the class, hunting either for inattention or disagreement. “Indeed, the sages of old developed their paths in accordance with these eight, and with the exception of a few universal meditations, such as those taught to children before they show their affinity, every recorded path is dedicated to one of these elements. There were eight great sages, who founded the eight great sects.”

He shook his head, sternly wagging his mustache. “And yet, there is a persistent school of thought that insists on the existence of a ninth element, an element upon which all the others rest. There have been many proposed names for this theoretical path. The void, or essence. Pure mana. Consciousness. A few lonely souls have insisted that it is feelings, the human heart itself, around which the rest of the world turns. Or color. Or light.”

Raibu severed his connection to the quartz, and his hologram dissolved into a thin mist of mana that sank to his feet before dissipating. “There is no proof of that, however. So we must confine ourselves to the traditional eight.”

The lecture continued for another hour, as Raibu enumerated the finer points of all the elements in turn, their strengths and weaknesses, as well as what could be generally expected of the artists that specialized in each. The concept of a ninth element was intriguing, but not immediately important. It was the Tree of Heaven Sunwhisper wanted to investigate.

(I could do some sneaking around at night.)

{That is a risk. I will try to find the relevant texts myself first.}

(You’ve seen the part of the library you have access to. It’s the kiddie pool. Even if you do find something on point, it’s going to be more of the same general information we just got from Fu Man Chu.)

{If you were discovered, they would take you captive. The artists here are too powerful for you to deal with alone.}

(Yeah, don’t rub it in, kid. I’ve been thinking about this. They haven’t hassled you about Ogumo, right? Send him to the library one night, and I ride on his belly to keep an eye out for wards. If we can get into the restricted section, I can get you some boss scrolls. If not, too bad, we come crawling back. Bingo bango. Even if we don’t find anything about the Quintessence, I bet there’s a load of juicy techniques in there for you to learn. Definitely Honing Edge, but maybe Wild Hearts stuff too. You won’t know until we try.)

Sunwhisper knew that Starscream was tired of being cooped in his chest compartment. He wanted action. He wanted to hunt, even if he was hunting scrolls. He’d been very cooperative thus far, but if he wasn’t heeded, there was a chance he would go take action on his own. Starscream could let himself out and unplug whenever he wanted, if it came to that.

{All right. Tonight.}