"Where are you from?" Mai's littlest brother asked while scrubbing through his hair. I sat in the river up to my neck and answered, "Somewhere far from here."
"Awesome." He grinned, scrambled up a boulder on the bank, and dove. The water burst outward in a thunderous explosion—clear as proof that his power ran through that carved necklace at his throat. Poe, one of Mai's other brothers, laughed and said, "He's new—hasn't been evaluated at the waterfall yet." Mai's second little brother added, "He needs to go now."
Before I could object, the three of them lunged. Their hands found my arms and legs, and, faster than I could think, they hauled me down the stream. I kicked and twisted, but they were stronger than they looked. We rounded the lip of a waterfall, and they shoved me into the drop. Spinning helplessly, I felt weightless—no balance, no purchase—then the lake below answered with the same geyser-like blast I'd seen earlier, flinging me back onto the current as if the water itself rejected me.
"What was that?" Mai's youngest called, hauling himself out, water streaming off his hair. I held my palms to my face and admitted, "No idea."
Back in the village that night, we gathered around a bonfire. I still hadn't been returned my clothes; the too-small shirt and shorts clung to me like a bad joke. Mai's father took his place by the flames and spoke in the low, steady voice elders use when they want people to listen.
"Long ago, this forest was governed by balance—by the YinYang spirits. They kept negative forces out: predators, plagues, the things that would steal life away. With them, the meadow and the woods were safe. But then the balance was broken. The spirits vanished. For generations, the land has suffered—until perhaps now."
I sat quietly, the heat on my face and the smell of smoke in my nostrils. Mai's father left us to our own chatter. Mai came and sat near me and said her brothers had told her what happened at the river. I explained honestly that I didn't know what I'd done, and she nodded like she understood.
When the elders called everyone to bed, I followed Mai's brothers to their hut. Fifteen of us crammed into a single space; it was hot, humid, and loud. I was shoved, jostled, and nearly suffocated multiple times before sleep finally dragged me down.
Sleep didn't feel like rest—it felt like a reminder of how far I was from home. I lay twisted on a mat and watched the dark shapes of people breathing around me. Their clothing nagged at my mind—the boys in tiny shorts for mobility, the women in longer skirts and sports tops. I thought it odd, then found humor in it: in this village, modesty and movement had been rearranged. My mind returned to that flash when I fell through the lake—how the water had gone cloudy white—and a memory fragment pulsed behind my eyes. I decided to test it.
Sneaking out was a problem. The hut had one exit, and it was a tangle of legs. I slid along the wall, careful to step only on the uncovered floor, but I misjudged and trod on an arm. The sleeper startled, shot upright once, then flopped back with closed eyes. I exhaled and moved on. The second obstacle was a burly sleeper—heavy enough that sliding him aside felt impossible. But when I pushed, my hands found a force I didn't expect; the man shifted, and a path opened. The same new strength I'd discovered when the chains snapped in the facility.
The door scraped as I eased it open. Sounds like that in the night is a death sentence for a sneak, but no one woke. I slipped out and slipped past a night guard, who nearly saw me. I used my ability to roll a stack of logs into the lane; the crash distracted him, and I slipped for the river.
Through the forest, the path felt alive. A chill ran along my skin: the trees seemed to lean, listening. Vines reached for me—one snagged my ankle and tightened, then more wrapped and tugged. They hauled me toward the waterfall, and I fought like mad until they dropped me into the pool. Underwater, I saw images again: voices braided into thought—"Goshi, the forest calls you." The world swelled into green and roots and an impossible jungle that tried to hold me. Then the scene snapped away, and I was at the bottom of the falls, ragged and gasping.
I surged to the surface and floated on my back, breathing the night air. The life in the lake seemed to press on me—not with words but with raw emotion: joy, curiosity, confusion, welcome. A whirlpool gathered and gently carried me up and over the waterfall, depositing me back on shore like some reluctant offering. For the first time, I understood my power was more than a trickle of rank–two manipulation. Something else had woken.
I sat on the bank, chest heaving, and tried to make sense of it. A sudden wind cut across the meadow, and a black orb streaked past the trees, vanishing into the dark. It felt like a warning. I slipped back toward the village under the cover of shrubs and made it inside undetected.
When I rounded the corner of the hut, I froze. Men stood in the square—outsiders, not from the village. Voices low and hungry carried to me. "Word is the Yang spirit is back in Pansen," one said. "He's here in this village. Get him—bring him to me."
They split off, search lines forming. People scattered and doors slammed. My heart thudded against my ribs. Only two options were battering through my head: hide or fight. My fists clenched. Every instinct told me to run—but the image of those men, of Amoi's empty bed, and the way Mai had looked at me earlier—left me with a different heat. I stepped out from the shadows, palms already humming with the unfamiliar white energy—ready or not.