Finding the "nature force" wasn't as simple as Eqihr made it sound. He claimed we'd spend ten hours in each biome—two full days total—but after ten minutes of sitting cross-legged on the burning desert sand, my brain felt fried. I pressed deeper, but nothing came. No sensation, no spark. Just sweat and irritation.
Is this even real? I wondered. Or is he just a pervert messing with us?
But then I remembered the dragon, the teleportation, the sheer power in his casual snaps. Whatever he was, this wasn't a hoax.
Eqihr noticed our frustration. "I said ten hours," he reminded us. "It takes ten hours to find the energy. Don't expect shortcuts." His words didn't help much, but they cleared the edge of our exhaustion.
Then he clapped his hands. Water splashed across us. "Totem," he muttered, and just like that, the strain faded from our bodies. We settled back into our trance.
Five hours later, Manny whispered, "I feel it. It's there… but it's fighting me."
Not long after, I caught a thread of it too. Trying to hold onto it was like trying to catch a housefly blindfolded—always slipping, darting, resisting. Sweat beaded on my face.
By the ninth hour, Manny shot up, triumphant. "I caught it!"
I was still locked in the struggle, knuckles whitening against invisible resistance. I pulled harder and harder until something finally snapped into me. My chest surged with light, and my eyes flared white. "Got it."
I staggered to my feet. "Can we go to the next biome now?"
Eqihr smirked. "That's new."
A snap of his fingers, and his dragon whisked us into a wide meadow.
"You'll search here now," Eqihr said. He pressed his palms briefly against our chests. "Exhaustion is written all over you. Drink."
We ignored him and dove back into meditation.
When I closed my eyes, the meadow became endless inside my mind. Green stretching forever, wind rippling across the tall grass. And there, an unfamiliar man stood before me.
He looked young, maybe late twenties. Long white hair, one strand shadowing his left eye. A black-and-white robe hung loose over his muscular frame, shoulders bare. His hazel eyes mirrored mine.
I stiffened, torn between fear and awe.
"No need to fear me," he said calmly. "I was once like you. My name is Yanu Wenadow."
My voice trembled. "Is there… an easier way to obtain this energy?"
He shook his head. "This is the easy way." He stepped closer. "War is coming again. You and the Yin holder must stop it."
I stammered, "I don't even know how. How do we do that?"
"Balance can't be achieved when it is divided," Yanu said. His form began to fade. "Good luck."
"Wait—what does that mean?" But he was gone.
I spun, searching, until my vision snapped back into reality.
Eqihr and Manny stood over me. "He's awake," they said together.
I scrambled back, heart pounding. "What happened to the meadow?"
The grassland around us was wrecked—scorched, torn, lifeless.
"When you were unconscious," Eqihr said, "you drew energy… but also released its opposite. Negative force."
I stared at my hands, flashbacks clawing at me. Then, soft and hoarse, I said, "I think Yanu gave me his remaining natural force."
Eqihr crossed his arms. "Then you've inherited more than you realize." He snapped his fingers, and our clothes reappeared in a heap. "Get dressed. We have cleaning to do—and a story to tell."
A blink later, we were in a warm spring at the mountain's base. Steam rolled off the surface.
"This water's magical," Eqihr said, stepping in with a sigh. "Your clothes vanish when submerged, return when you step out. Now get in." His smirk was perverse, but the heat pulled us anyway. Manny and I sank into the warmth.
For once, Eqihr's tone turned serious. "Yanu Wenadow was the first Yang holder. A prodigy. He mastered all natural forces in one day, a martial artist without equal, and the kindest man in Pansen."
Blood dripped from his nose—he wiped it away quickly, pretending it hadn't happened.
He looked at me. "Goshi, isn't it?"
I nodded slowly. "How did you know?"
"I know more than I should," he said simply. "And I know Yanu gave you his last spark. Which means you stand at a crossroads: fight to stop the war here in Pansen, or return home and fight yours."
I thought long and hard, then said, "I'll save both."
Eqihr clapped his hands. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Manny added, "If he's fighting, so am I."
Eqihr shook his head. "No, you still lack balance. You'll remain here and finish training. Goshi must travel alone."
He told me of Yuki, a distant town five days' journey. Its people still worshiped the YinYang spirits, and they would aid in the coming conflict. I couldn't teleport—my control was too raw. Eqihr admitted even his own strength had limits.
So I walked. Manny and Eqihr stayed behind to continue their training.
Eqihr shouted after me as I left: "Yuki will be your test. They still remember the spirits. Learn from them. We'll catch up soon."
The horizon stretched long. I thought of both worlds, Pansen and Nova 1C, and how tangled they'd become. Saving one felt impossible; saving both felt insane. But I walked on anyway.
An hour into the grasslands, mosquitoes gnawed at my legs. The hum of insects gave way to a deeper rumble.
Voices. Footsteps. An army, marching.
I ducked into the tall grass and peered out. A column of figures approached—hundreds strong. At the center, bound and chained, were faces I knew.
Mai. Her brothers. Her father. Her entire family, prisoners of war.
The sight hollowed my chest.
And I knew, in that instant, I was their only chance to survive.