"There's more bad news," the Maker began, turning away from us, looking towards the ocean, and compressing his lips into a thin line. "The other disconcerting thing is that I can't discern anything. Absolutely nothing. And it shouldn't be this way. There must be something residual... A fragment of a path, a shadow of an aura, an echo of death. These things won't dissipate even years later. But... But it's not like that here. It's empty. Absolutely vacant. Even the stones beneath my feet, which clearly soaked up blood... They're devoid... They don't remember, they recall nothing... Even the stones... I'm helpless. Like a novice. Like..." He stopped, and in the ensuing silence, the grinding of his teeth echoed distinctly. "I know exactly who is responsible and their motives. But this knowledge stems from analysis, not observation. And I don't understand... The moment I laid eyes on the two of you, I sensed: you were a thread... Not a Path, not even the inception of a road. But something compelled me, and I invited you along. And now I stand here, next to the body of the man I respected, in utter helplessness. I sense that you two, or one of you, could assist, provide a clue, but I can't even See such a minor detail."
Having spoken, Zanh Kiem walked to the cliff edge, sat on the stones, picked up a branch, turned it in his hands, and hurled it into the distant waves with blatant fury. The first branch was followed by a second, then a small pebble. The Maker remained silent; his aura was barely noticeable, pale, and no longer blazing like the mouth of a volcano. Apparently, this is what the devastation of the sensums looks like.
Maya also stood silently, tense, her fists clenched; through my palms, I could sense her Projection trembling subtly. It's quite possible that the girl would have lost control if she had witnessed her Mentor's body while in the material world. Today's hardships had been too much. Far from everyone can endure such an ordeal, even if they're labelled as a Knight. I also dare not shatter the silence - any of my words now would be redundant. Or perhaps the right ones just elude me.
This nerve-wracking silence lingered for over five minutes.
Throwing another small stone into the waves, Zanh Kiem rose to his feet.
"There must be a solution," his voice was tinged with profound self-reproach. "I know that it must exist!" For a moment, it seemed he would begin to slap his cheeks with his palms, but the sensum held himself back.
The Maker turned to us and located our projections with his eyes.
"Maya," he addressed the Knight. "Come here."
I lifted my hands from her shoulders, and the girl, her body shuddering, took a hesitant step forward. Then she shook her head as if to disperse doubts, removed her hand from the hilt, and moved towards the tall man who looked as though he had just single-handedly unloaded a wagon full of cement sacks.
"Please, come out of the Break," Zanh Kiem requests of her.
Without a second thought, the girl seems to decide whether to heed his request or not. As soon as these words are spoken, my ears are stung by a distinctive roar.
Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!!!
"Thank you," the head of the Third Palm nods and takes the girl's hand in his. "Help me find a clue."
"Everything... Anything I can do..." Maya's words are strained, but despite this, she is determined to do everything within her power to help Retribution find the killers of the man she loved, not as a lover but as a Teacher.
"First, I want to examine your aura. In detail."
"Do it!"
Having received permission, the Maker closes his eyes and concentrates. The streams of his energy alter - becoming more affluent, denser; they contract and twist, forming petals of various intensities and hues. In less than a minute, Zanh Kiem appears to be enveloped by a swarm of giant, multi-colored, almost transparent butterflies. Then these butterflies surge towards Maya.
The petals of the Maker's aura clasp Maya so tightly that, in my perception, they become akin to a second layer of her clothing. This continues for almost ten minutes, and all this time, neither the sensum nor the girl being examined uttered a word or moved.
Finally, the sensum opens his eyes, and his energy lines peel off Maya and return to their source.
"Thank you," he says wearily.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" the raig girl asks, hope evident in her voice.
"No," Zanh Kiem shakes his head, and I can see that this "no" is causing him almost physical pain. "But wait. I understand that you, the Break Knights, perceive the world differently when in a state of Projection."
"That's right. Everything seems unreal, as though it's painted," Maya nods and continues, "Some things appear dimmer, and others, on the contrary, are brighter. For instance, in the Break, we can see bright auras - but not of ordinary people, only of sensums like you."
"Change of perception!" Sensum's nostrils flare as he draws in a deep breath. "Seeing auras and possibly residual energies... It... It might work." A spark of hope lights up in his eyes. "Some Knights can transport an ordinary person into the Break for a brief period, correct?"
"Yes."
"Can you do something like that?"
"Yes."
The Maker extends his hand to Maya.
"Transport me!"
"No," the girl seems regretful about her response. "It won't work. Neither a sensum nor a shapeshifter can be pulled into the Break - only ordinary people."
"Try it!" Zanh Kiem insists.
Nodding firmly, Maya takes the sensum's hand.
R-r-r...
Ra-a...
R-r-r-a...
Unfortunately, no matter how hard the girl tried, this endeavor was unsuccessful. And Maya truly did everything within her power. So much so that I even managed to notice the subtle streams of her energies, which "clung to" the aura of the Maker. But it was all in vain.
"It's not working," she finally exhaled.
Zanh Kiem retracted his palms and clenched his fists.
"Thank you for trying," he said, a slight, barely noticeable regret in his voice. He then asked, "Could you step aside for a while? You don't have to enter the Break, just sit over there." He pointed towards a large boulder about fifty meters away, right at the edge of the cliff.
Maya nodded and followed his directions. After she settled on the stone, the sensum turned to me.
"Maestro..."
Just one word, yet I understood what he wanted from me. I traversed the distance between us in a single leap and exited the Break.
Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!!!
"With you, it's more complex," Zanh Kiem's gaze met the glass of my helmet. "If I conduct the same detailed examination of your aura, I would be able to recognize you in any crowd, regardless of your disguise." These words substantially dented my determination and desire to assist him. "The only thing I can do is to give my word, or make any oath that suits you... If I recognize you in the world, I won't acknowledge it or reveal your secret to anyone without your consent. This applies to my superior and those Above, not to mention anyone else."
Paranoia screeches in my head with a vicious howl, and instincts demand that I flee. My mind screams: "don't agree!"
But...
I...
I remove my gloves.
And...
I extend my palms.
"Your word will suffice," my voice is emotionless and lifeless; that's the best I can muster.
"You have it, my word," comes the response.
Our hands meet, and I feel the warmth of his dry, calloused, overworked palms. I felt like I should be experiencing something else, but there was nothing. From my perspective, we're just standing with our hands clasped together. I'm certain the Maker is doing something, conducting his research, but I don't sense anything. The minutes drag on like an eternity, stretching out like condensed milk flowing from a tin can through a small hole pierced by an old nail.
"I see..." Zanh Kiem says languidly, finally releasing my hands. His tone reminds me of doctors who are about to deliver bad news to a patient. A chill runs down my spine. "Maestro, you are an uninitiated sensum."
"What?!" Honestly, at that moment, I couldn't come up with anything more intelligent.
"A weak sensum. Your Spark of Giftedness barely reaches the level of a Feeler. Almost. On the brink. But that's not all. This is not your original Spark. None of your soul shards were born with it. Yet, it is harmoniously woven into your energy. Naturally. I used to believe that this was fundamentally impossible. Giftedness can't be transferred, rewarded, or, even more so, a Spark can't be transplanted to anyone."
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"The Break gifted it to me," I explain, remembering the hidden ability granted to me after repelling the Breakthrough.
"A gift?"
"A reward, to be more precise."
"I don't understand, but I accept that explanation. The Break is a phenomenon of a completely different level, and we understand only a tiny fraction of its capabilities," Zanh Kiem nods at my words. "Your Spark is dormant. It might sleep throughout its entire life without manifesting. I can awaken it right now."
The prospect of becoming not only a raig but also a sensum? Yes! Yes! Absolutely yes! Who in their right mind would refuse such an offer? But before I have a chance to articulate my thoughts, the Maker continues.
"But there is a slight catch. Actually, a huge catch," he corrects himself. "I'll explain it simply and frankly. Just bear in mind that although this information isn't classified, we, the Gifted, prefer not to discuss it."
"I understand."
"Sensums, to put it very simply, are divided into three types. The majority, like me, draw energy from the Higher Spheres. But there are also Dark Gifted... More accurately, there are hardly any left... The centuries of purges of the Inquisition and the clandestine war, which led to the creation of the monasteries where I was taught, weren't in vain. The Dark ones power their abilities by absorbing the energy of other people. And then there's a third type - the Gray Gifted. Their Gift operates at the expense of their own energy. There aren't as few of such Gifted as is commonly believed, but their lives are typically very short. They quite literally 'consume' themselves. For example, if someone like me were to heal someone, they would wash away the patient's illness with pure energy. A Dark one could kill the disease, drain it. A Gray, on the other hand, can cure the patient only by taking the illness upon themselves." Not the most enticing prospect! "Your Spark, Maestro, is Gray. In any other situation, I would recommend that you NEVER initiate your Spark. Moreover, since I promised to be direct, its awakening will provide you with almost no benefits. It's too dull and weak, insignificant..."
"In any other situation?" I interrupt the sudden silence of the Maker with a question.
"Your case is unique. Your Spark is 'charged' not from your own bodily energies, but from the Break, from that inner reservoir that you Knights refer to as prana. Thus, you are not in danger of rapid aging and a multitude of ailments unless, of course, you draw too much. Moreover, due to this peculiarity, no one below the Maker rank will identify you as Gifted due to your connection with the Break. Additionally, I understand why we're here. All three of us, in this place, at this time - me, you, Maya. At present, all my abilities and skills do not permit me to see what's hidden. But... the Break alters perception, I'm certain... No! I KNOW! From the Break, I will See, will find a hint. It might mean nothing, perhaps something nearly useless, but at least something - which is already infinitely more than we currently possess. Yes, Maya already attempted, and she didn't succeed. It's true. But if you let your Spark awaken, you will become both a Break Knight and a sensum. You will serve as a bridge, a connection, and this time everything will work out..."
"Do it!" I respond promptly, for I fear that if I begin to contemplate and analyze, paranoia will eventually triumph.
I anticipated a ritual, some kind of ceremony, but Zanh Kiem merely touched my forehead with his fingers. A gentle push...
"That's all. Done," the Maker murmured.
And...
And nothing has changed for me. Except my vision has slightly altered, as if someone had tweaked the sharpness and contrast by a couple of notches. I listened to myself and felt nothing more.
"I told you your Spark is weak; you didn't transform into a superhuman from its awakening. Your senses have become a tad sharper, and your health will gradually improve, even though it's already in a perfect state. That's all. Certainly, you could receive training, but even to master the simplest things, you would have to devote years. Trust me, it's not worth it. The costs are too high, and the benefits are minuscule," the head of the Third Palm even offered me a slight, somewhat guilty smile. "Shall we attempt now?"
"Yes!" I reply without the slightest hesitation. After all, it wasn't all for nothing, right?
"Maya!" The Maker raised his voice and gestured. As the girl approached, he continued. "We found a potential solution. Certain abilities of Master Maestro can assist in transporting me to the Break. He will act as a mediator. Take his hand. And you, Maestro, hold onto me tightly."
Maya's hand is in my right, and the firm grip of the messenger of Retribution squeezes my left.
"Ready," Zanh Kiem whispers.
"Ready," I echo, even though I have no idea what I should do.
Maya simply nods and...
R-r-r-a…
I feel like an elastic band, tethered on one side to a hefty truck and on the other to a hundred-car train loaded with rubble.
"A-a-a-a..."
Perhaps, this is how an astronaut might feel upon falling into a black hole, surpassing the event horizon. I was stretched as if I were not a man but a Mr. Fantastic from a nearly forgotten comic book. Something tugged and crushed me. It seemed just a bit more, and my soul would break free from my body.
"A-i-i-i..."
Pain, so intense, so all-encompassing, as if someone were disassembling me atom by atom.
I scream, but no one hears me.
I am wedged between the layers of Existence.
Stretched across the dimensions of the universe.
Moments turned into an eternity.
I cannot hold on.
I will die.
Right no...
"A-a-i-i-i-ig!!!"
A clap assaults my ears so much that I lose my orientation in space. But these are minor issues. I'm alive. And the pain is gone.
There's no need to breathe when you are a Projection, but I suck in the air as if it's the sweetest of divine nectars. Maya stands close by; she is as pale as chalk and becomes more and more translucent with every moment. Her prana is dwindling at a cosmic pace.
But Zanh Kiem...
Instead of the Maker, my left hand is held by a phantom shining like hundreds of spotlights. He illuminates like stellar prominences. His aura unfolds, enveloping everything around him. He is like a supernova about to explode, and this explosion will be truly GRAND.
"I'm done," the barely noticeable ghost of the Knight girl whispers. "Empty."
"Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!!!"
Maya and Zanh Kiem fall out of the Break, materializing in the physical world. And this is fortunate because, with a couple more heartbeats, we would all have vanished in an explosion of incredible beauty and power.
Did we succeed?
To find out, I need to return.
Only I can't.
The Break crumbles. The space writhes.
I am imprisoned in a cocoon of a distorted layer of Existence.
I strive to break free from this snare, but it's like a fly striking glass.
Everything around me twists together with me into some kind of bizarre multidimensional spiral. I am crumpled, crushed, and my Projection loses its form.
It loses - only to regain it immediately.
"R-u-u-u-u-u-u-m!!!"
An unusual bass rumble fills everything.
The Break takes on an almost familiar shape.
Almost...
I see Maya's eyes, wide with horror. She's trying to break in, to shift into the Break, expending the last of her strength.
But it won't let her.
Zanh Kiem is yelling something. The petals of his aura have transformed into sharp shining swords that are trying to cut their way through.
But whatever they do, it's all in vain.
The relocation of the Maker to this layer of Existence broke something in the Break, triggering a local anomaly.
A Breakthrough has caught me.
My personal one.
An individual Breakthrough.
It does not belong to the flesh of this world.
It feeds solely on my emotions and fantasies of my Earth.
"Word" unsheathes its scabbard, "Purity" launches into a defensive position, and I squint, straining my eyes, into the dark portal, which appears just two dozen steps away.
The first thing I notice is a faint glow in the blackness. A dark silhouette advances. With a swift motion of the shadow, the portal is cleaved, and I see the tip of a lightsaber slicing the interdimensional veil.
A red lightsaber...