"My hand?" The request pulled Spark's gaze back to Flint. Without hesitation, he extended his hand toward her, his movements carrying that inherent grace that marked his noble upbringing.

Flint took his hand in hers, her grip gentle yet assured. Something about her touch seemed to settle the unease in Spark's heart. The memories that had surfaced in the Moonlight's Whisper's haze - those painful recollections of being overlooked as a child - seemed to fade like morning mist before her steady presence.

"Help me with something," Flint cleared her throat, her analytical mind clearly working through some theory. "Try using some Light Element secret arts, or absorb some Light Element natural aura from the surroundings."

Though the request was unusual, Spark didn't question it. He simply nodded, his golden eyes half-closing as he began to draw in the Light Element natural aura around them. To his surprise, he found himself able to absorb significantly more than usual, as if the very air had become richer with light essence.

His fingers twitched slightly in Flint's grasp as he processed this discovery, his wolf ears perking forward with interest. The moonlight streaming through the window seemed to respond to his pull, creating subtle patterns of luminescence that danced across their joined hands.

Spark's gaze shifted to Flint, and what he saw made his breath catch in his throat. While the area around him glowed with absorbed light, the space around Flint had become unnaturally dark - a darkness that seemed to devour everything in its reach. Thin threads of purple energy coiled around her form like ethereal serpents, creating a stark contrast against the moon-washed room.

Flint felt an unfamiliar force coursing through her body, entirely different from the usual intangible force she knew. The only thing she could control was that familiar white-glowing power she'd always wielded. She used it to guide this strange new energy through her body, like a shepherd directing an untamed stream.

The force traveled from her arms to her neck, then up to her head. But when it reached her eyes, a sudden, searing pain shot through her. It was worse than anything she'd experienced before - even the mad cultivator's blade hadn't brought such agony. The intensity forced her to yank her hand away from Spark's grasp.

"What's wrong?" Spark leaned forward in his chair, golden eyes wide with concern as he watched Flint press her hands against her eyes, her face contorted in pain. His voice carried that peculiar mix of nobility and genuine worry that was uniquely his.

Flint slowly lowered her hands from her eyes, revealing blood smeared across her fingers. She blinked, her eyelashes still sticky with crimson droplets. The piercing pain that had shot through her moments ago left her shaken, its memory still fresh and raw.

"I should be... fine..." Without Spark's touch, the agony had subsided, though her brow remained furrowed in thought. "I felt an unfamiliar force, but when it reached my eyes, there was this sudden, intense pain."

Spark located a cloth in the room and dampened it with water. As he gently cleaned the blood from her face and hands, his mind turned over her words, analyzing each detail with careful consideration. The moonlight caught the red stains on the cloth as he worked, turning them almost black.

"Are you... able to absorb natural aura now?" The realization hit Spark suddenly, his golden eyes lighting up with excitement. The words carried a weight of possibility that made his wolf ears perk forward with interest.

"Perhaps I'm not absorbing the natural aura, but I can sense it now." Flint's response was measured, typical of her analytical nature. She focused her consciousness into her fingertips, causing them to emit a faint white glow. "I've always been able to absorb some kind of intangible force, but it seems I can't use it for cultivation."

The white light dancing at her fingertips cast delicate shadows across her face, highlighting the thoughtful set of her features. It was different from the usual glow of natural aura - more ethereal, like captured moonlight rather than cultivated power.

Spark touched Flint's glowing fingers with delicate precision, noting how different this energy felt from ordinary natural aura. The white light seemed to dance beneath his touch, neither withdrawing nor responding as typical natural aura would.

"When Seedling and I were being chased by that mad cultivator," Flint continued, her eyes fixed on her luminescent fingertips, "she pulled me through the air while using Flux Element secret arts, creating powerful winds behind us for propulsion. When she was using natural aura, I held her hand and felt some strange power in my body. I couldn't focus enough to try absorbing it though, and it dissipated."

The moonlight streaming through the window seemed to emphasize the soft glow emanating from her fingers, creating an ethereal interplay of light and shadow across their joined hands.

"When you were absorbing Light Element natural aura just now, did you notice if you could absorb more than usual?" Flint's question came suddenly, her analytical mind clearly working through some theory.

Spark nodded, surprise flickering across his features. That was exactly what had happened - but how had she known?

"Seedling mentioned that when I held her hand, she felt her natural aura increase..." Flint's brow furrowed deeper, her thoughts crystallizing into a theory. "I'm beginning to suspect that this intangible force I possess can transform into natural aura."

"But..." she added, recalling their earlier attempt, "it also prevented you from channeling natural aura into my body during dual cultivation."

At the mention of their previous encounter, Spark cleared his throat awkwardly, his noble bearing momentarily faltering. "However, when I looked at you, I saw purple threads wreathing your form, and the space around you grew unnaturally dark. It felt similar to Shadow Element natural aura."

"Is that so?" Flint hadn't opened her eyes earlier, and this new information seemed to spark something in her mind.

"There are six elements of natural aura - Flux, Stasis, Light, Shadow, Vita, and Void..." Flint mused, her analytical mind piecing together the puzzle. "I understand now. When my intangible force transforms into your Light Element natural aura, it simultaneously generates an opposing force - Shadow Element natural aura."

The moonlight painted silvery patterns across her face as she continued, "When I held your hand, I somehow understood how to convert my intangible force into Light Element natural aura... I'm not sure how to describe this understanding. It was like... an intuition."

"The same thing happened with Seedling. But when I tried to use this method to generate Flux Element natural aura to control the blanket, it always slipped from my grasp." Her fingers traced absent patterns in the air, mimicking the memory of that failed attempt.

"Now I suspect that Stasis Element natural aura was being generated simultaneously, preventing me from controlling the blanket's trajectory." She concluded, her voice carrying the quiet satisfaction of a theory falling into place.

Spark listened to this chain of hypotheses with growing fascination. While these conclusions were entirely new to him, they carried an unexpected logic that explained the strange phenomena surrounding Flint. Nature itself existed in duality, yet cultivators typically could only master one side of each pair. Like himself - with his transcendent Light Element spirit root, his Shadow Element spirit root was inevitably deficient, rendering him unable to absorb shadow energy.

"I should try again, but avoid the eyes this time," Flint said, reaching for Spark's hand with determined purpose. "When the Shadow Element natural aura was flowing through other parts of my body earlier, it didn't cause any adverse reactions."

Her fingers wrapped around Spark's hand in a simple, firm grip. He allowed her to hold his hand without resistance, fighting the urge to curl his fingers around hers in return. His golden eyes fixed on where her palm pressed against his, watching as moonlight played across their hands.

However, concern creased his noble features, his wolf ears twitching with unease. "You're already injured," he said, his voice carrying that peculiar mix of authority and genuine worry. "Perhaps we should be more cautious about this." He paused, then added with careful consideration, "Maybe... you could consult Sage South Rain first?"

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The suggestion hung in the air between them, weighted with genuine concern. The memory of blood trailing from Flint's eyes was still fresh in his mind, making his protective instincts stir beneath his composed exterior.

Flint let out a soft sigh, her analytical mind acknowledging the wisdom in his words despite her eagerness to continue experimenting. "Alright," she conceded, her grip on his hand remaining steady and warm. "You have a point."

She made no move to release his hand though, and Spark found himself enjoying the simple contact, the warmth of her palm against his a quiet comfort in the moonlit room.

As the implications of their discovery settled in Spark's mind, a realization bloomed like the first rays of dawn. If Flint could indeed cultivate, albeit in her unique way, then perhaps the insurmountable gap he'd feared—the difference in their potential lifespans and cultivation levels—wasn't so insurmountable after all. The thought sparked an unexpected lightness in his chest, like a flock of birds taking wing.

In a sudden movement that surprised even himself, Spark turned his hand in Flint's grip until he could grasp hers properly. His touch carried all the grace of his noble bearing as he lifted their joined hands. Before his usual self-consciousness could catch up with his actions, he pressed a swift, gentle kiss against the back of her hand, his lips barely brushing her skin.

"Good night," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that belied his attempt at casual formality. "I should take my leave now."

The gesture caught Flint completely off guard. She lifted her head, analytical mind temporarily stalled by this unexpected departure from their usual interactions. But Spark was already striding toward the door, his movements carrying an almost urgent grace. His long steps took him swiftly across the room, his noble bearing somewhat undermined by the slight flush creeping up his neck.

"Good night," Flint managed to reply, the words following his retreating form. She was left sitting on the bed, her hand still raised slightly where he'd released it, an unusual warmth lingering on her skin where his lips had touched.

Through the open door, she caught a final glimpse of his dark gray hair and the tips of his wolf ears before he disappeared around the corner, his steps echoing down the corridor with uncharacteristic haste. The moonlight streaming through the window seemed to hold the ghost of his presence for a moment longer, before settling back into its usual silver stillness.

———

Though Sage South Rain had mentioned it would be some time before she could return, Flint wasn't particularly anxious about the delay. In the past few weeks since her splints had been removed, she'd developed a steady rhythm with her crutch, its soft tapping sounds marking her careful progress along the stone path of the courtyard.

The distant sounds of training drifted through the air - the sharp whistle of spirit swords cutting through targets, the controlled shouts of disciples practicing their forms. Flint watched with a touch of envy as the disciples manipulated their blades with growing skill, their movements guided by the natural aura she could now sense but not yet control. She rarely ventured far from her quarters these days. There wasn't much point in wandering too far, after all.

She had just turned to head back when a voice called out behind her.

"Are you Flint?"

She pivoted slowly, balancing on her crutch. The speaker was a tall man with a lean but muscular build, dressed in the black robes of the Celestial Sword Sect. A mark resembling an eclipse shines faintly on his forehead, pulsating with the rhythm of breath. His shoulder-length black hair fell in uneven waves, as if different sections were following their own patterns. What caught her attention most were the pointed ears atop his head - distinctly hound-like in appearance, marking him as a spiritual beast.

He smiled at her, revealing prominent canines that somehow made him look more friendly than fierce. His eyes were large and warm, giving him an almost puppyish appearance despite his height.

"Um, yes, I am..." Flint replied carefully, certain she had never met this particular spiritual beast before. She shifted her weight slightly on her crutch, studying him with quiet curiosity.

"Hello, I'm Nightbane," he said with a friendly gesture of introduction. His eyes swept over Flint's stance, noting how she leaned on the crutch. "You must have just returned from Crimson Aurora Valley! Are you heading inside? Let me help you."

Before Flint could respond, Nightbane moved to support her free arm, the one not gripping the crutch. His movement was smooth and natural, as if helping injured cultivators was something he did every day.

Crimson Aurora Valley? Flint's brow furrowed slightly. The name stirred no recognition in her memory, but she couldn't be bothered to ask why Nightbane thought she'd been there. It seemed like too much effort for information she didn't particularly need.

"Oh, no, that's really not—" Flint tried to decline, waving her free hand in protest, but Nightbane seemed to take her resistance as mere politeness. With gentle persistence that bordered on friendly stubbornness, he maintained his supportive grip on her arm. His touch was careful yet firm, and despite her initial reluctance, Flint found herself being smoothly guided back to the guest room where she'd been recuperating.

The late winter sunlight followed them through the corridors, casting alternating patterns of light and shadow across their path. Nightbane's movements were measured to match her pace, his hound ears occasionally twitching at the distant sounds of training that still echoed through the sect grounds.

After reaching the room, Nightbane helped Flint settle onto the bed with gentle efficiency, his movements carrying the practiced ease of someone used to assisting others. Rather than departing, he pulled up a chair and sat down, his large amber eyes fixed on her with unmasked interest. His pointed ears swiveled forward, betraying his eagerness despite his attempt at casual conversation.

"I heard you were chased by a crazy cultivator in some valley near the Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks, is that right?" His tail would have been wagging if he were in his hound form, but in his human shape, only the slight bounce of his knee betrayed his excitement.

"Yes," Flint nodded, thinking to herself, Word of that incident must have spread around the sect by now. She absently adjusted her position on the bed, trying to find a comfortable spot for her healing leg.

"Oh? How did you manage to escape?" Nightbane's voice carried a hint of artificial curiosity, a slight undertone of pretense that didn't quite match his otherwise genuine demeanor. After all, he had been tracking Samuel—that mad cultivator—and had witnessed his explosive end before Flint. Though the reason still eluded him.

His deliberately casual question was masked by his friendly, almost puppyish expression, causing Flint to overlook the unnatural note in his voice. She furrowed her brow in contemplation, the events of several weeks ago slightly hazy in her memory. The late winter sunlight streaming through the window caught the slight tilt of her head as she considered her response.

"It was rather strange, actually," she said slowly, her analytical mind trying to piece together the fragments of that chaotic moment. Her fingers absently traced patterns on the bedcover as she spoke. "He just... suddenly exploded?"

"Just like that?" Nightbane leaned forward in his chair, his amber eyes wide and expectant like a puppy awaiting a treat. The eclipse mark on his forehead pulsed slightly faster with his evident curiosity, casting faint shadows that danced across his features.

"Well..." Flint hesitated, her fingers idly playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. The memory of the mad cultivator's soul becoming part of her intangible force lingered in her mind, but something held her back from sharing this peculiar experience. Instead, she offered another piece of information, her voice measured and careful: "It seemed... he exploded from absorbing too much natural aura..."

"Hmm." Nightbane nodded vigorously, his uneven black hair swaying with the movement. His pointed ears perked forward even more eagerly, clearly hoping for additional details. The late afternoon light caught his eclipse mark, making it shimmer like a dark moon surrounded by a ring of ethereal fire.

But Flint had already decided against sharing more uncertain information. She kept her gaze steady but noncommittal, her analytical mind carefully weighing how much she should reveal to this overly friendly spiritual beast. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant sounds of training from the courtyard and the soft rustling of Nightbane shifting in his chair, his puppy-like enthusiasm barely contained.

"Oh well." Nightbane sighed soundlessly, his shoulders dropping slightly as he recognized Flint's reluctance to elaborate. The eclipse mark on his forehead dimmed a fraction, reflecting his subdued mood. Perhaps, he reasoned, she was just as puzzled about Samuel's explosive end as everyone else.

"Say," he brightened suddenly, his large amber eyes sparking with renewed interest, "are you Sage South Rain's disciple?"

He had asked around about Flint extensively, beyond just his conversations with Spark. Some claimed she was here because of the wolf prince—Spark's girlfriend, they'd said, their voices tinged with gossip. Others suggested she was like himself, a Bloodbound beast, though he couldn't detect any spiritual beast features about her.

But one detail remained consistent in every account: all six of her spirit roots were deficient, making cultivation theoretically impossible. It made her presence in the Celestial Sword Sect all the more puzzling.

Not wanting to broach the potentially sensitive topic of her deficient spirit roots directly, he circled the subject with careful curiosity, his pointed ears twitching slightly forward as he awaited her response.

"Um..." Flint's brow furrowed at the seemingly simple question. Her fingers traced absent patterns on her knee as she considered how to answer. Technically, Sage South Rain was her master rather than her teacher, yet the sage had never treated her like a spiritual beast to be trained. The late afternoon light caught the uncertainty in her expression as she finally offered a hesitant response: "Maybe... I am."

"Ah, I see you haven't reached Adept level yet," Nightbane remarked, tilting his head in a distinctly canine manner. "I wonder what made Sage South Rain take you as a disciple?" The eclipse mark on his forehead flickered subtly as he spoke, like moonlight through shifting clouds. Quickly, he added a compliment, his amber eyes wide and earnest: "You must have some extraordinary qualities that impressed her!"

Flint shifted uncomfortably at the praise, her gaze dropping to her hands.

Compliments always made her feel somewhat undeserving rather than proud. The complexity of her relationship with Sage South Rain weighed on her mind - being her "bloodbound beast," while her past self, Obsidian Snow, had been the sage's master. Finally, she settled on the "excuse" Sage South Rain had given for keeping her at the Celestial Sword Sect: "She's interested in studying my condition - having all six spirit roots deficient..."

Nightbane's ears twitched in surprise at how matter-of-factly Flint mentioned her deficiency, showing no trace of shame. He nodded encouragingly, his uneven black hair swaying with the movement. "All six spirit roots deficient - that's quite rare indeed. Can you cultivate at all now?"

"Not yet," Flint shook her head, sunlight catching the determined glint in her eye. "But I think I can find a way."

"What kind of way?" Nightbane leaned forward eagerly, his large puppy-like eyes fixed on her with undisguised curiosity. The eclipse mark on his forehead pulsed faster with his excitement.

The question made Flint pause. The complexity of her situation felt too intricate to explain, but faced with Nightbane's friendly enthusiasm, she found herself reluctant to refuse entirely. She carefully chose her words, trying to simplify the concept. "Well... I can absorb some kind of intangible force, and I'm trying to find a way to convert it into natural aura for cultivation..."

"I see!" Though clearly not understanding, Nightbane nodded vigorously, his pointed ears bobbing with the movement. He'd just report these puzzling details to his master later - for now, simply remembering them would suffice. The late morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes that danced between them and making his amber eyes seem to glow with earnest attention.

As if sensing the need to fill the silence, Nightbane launched into an enthusiastic monologue about his master, Sage Mortius Crane. His face lit up as he spoke, the eclipse mark on his forehead pulsing with his excitement as he detailed his master's accomplishments and how honored he felt to be his bloodbound beast. Flint settled into her role as listener comfortably - it was a position she excelled at. She merely needed to offer occasional nods and brief responses like "mm-hmm" and "that's impressive" while Nightbane's animated chatter filled the room.

The flow of conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone trying the door, followed by a knock. "I'll get it!" Nightbane bounced up from his chair with puppy-like enthusiasm, his uneven black hair swaying as he strode toward the door with long, eager steps.

Flint felt her heart tighten unexpectedly. It had to be Spark coming to fetch her for lunch. She wasn't sure why tension was coiling in her chest, but she had a distinct feeling that Spark wouldn't be pleased with this situation. Why did it feel like she was having an affair? Flint took a deep breath, trying to compose her thoughts about how to explain this to Spark.

The moment the door swung open, Spark's gaze fell on Nightbane's familiar and despised face. That foolish grin, topped by the gently flickering eclipse-like mark, was the last thing he wanted to see. His expression darkened instantly, like storm clouds gathering over a sunny day. His wolf ears stood straight up in anger, the rigid posture at odds with his usually graceful bearing.