Manny and I stood before the swirling portal. Its edge pulsed like a heartbeat, light bleeding into the mist.
"Manny," I said, voice clear over the hum, "how did you get those abilities?"
He glanced back at me, eyes hard but distant. "It's a long story," he said. "I'll tell you when we're on the other side."
He ran first. I had no choice but to follow. The burn hit instantly as I stepped through—clothing peeling, skin tingling—then we spilled out onto the same lake I had seen the first time I'd arrived here. The portal always did this; the fire sensation was stronger than anything I felt using my old powers.
Manny swam for the shore. "This," he said, dragging himself onto the bank, "is where it all began—the land of Pansen. Where enhanced powers first emerged."
I followed, water dripping from my arms. "How do you know about this place?"
He pressed his palms against his temples, eyes closing for a moment. "A few days ago, something happened. Something jumped into me, gave me a surge of power."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "The same thing happened to me."
I hesitated, then asked the question burning in my throat. "Why are you back in town, Manny?"
He ignored my tone. "Because I need help. Someone here has to know how to use this power."
"I… know some of the native people here," I admitted.
"Then lead me."
I stopped in my tracks. "You'll have to go alone," I said.
He turned, confusion sharpening. "Why?"
"A few hours ago, before I came back, the Yang spirit tried to take control. I lashed out at the village leader. I'm not welcome."
Manny just shrugged. "It's happened to me too. We'll worry about it later. Show me."
I agreed, but doubt lingered.
The walk gave me time to think. Manny hadn't always been this way. He'd been a solid student, with perfect attendance, quiet discipline. But the government kept tightening its grip: new policies, more braces, harsher punishments. It broke something inside him. He became the criminal the headlines painted him as. But now, walking beside me through the meadow, he felt different—like the madness had burned away, leaving something rawer, calmer.
When the village came into view, my chest tightened. The paths were empty. No children, no smoke curling from fires. Just silence.
I closed my eyes, reaching out with the strange sense that had been growing in me. Fear. Dread. It pressed in like fog. My eyes flew open, a gasp clawing from my throat.
"What is it?" Manny demanded.
"No one's here."
He frowned, voice rising. "What do you mean, no one?"
"Exactly that." My voice cracked, sharp. "No one is here. Are you not listening?"
His eyes flared with a strange black light. Mine answered with a low, white glow. We lunged at each other. Fists met.
And then—vision.
Pansen burning, the forests under siege, grief and madness sweeping the land. The knowledge hit me as if poured into my veins: the YinYang spirits were at war again.
We rebounded, sliding back through the wet grass.
"Pansen's under siege," I said hoarsely. "And it's over the spirits."
Manny steadied himself against a tree. "Then why did they leave their home?"
I had no answer but a gut sense, memories of the last attack on the village.
Sunset bled across the meadow. We had little time to find someone who could explain these powers. Then the wind shifted—steady at first, then building. Rain speckled the dirt. Footsteps came from all sides: invaders, snarling as they closed in.
Before we could react, a blue dragon with gold horns spiraled down around us. The attackers hesitated.
A cracked voice thundered, "Disappear."
The dragon stopped mid-air, dove, and swallowed us whole.
When the world re-formed, we were kneeling in front of a cabin. The man waiting on the porch looked carved from another era.
He wore a velvet robe of blue and gold with a heavy golden mantle trailing behind. One eye was blue, the other green; his skin was rough and weathered. Black hair streaked with grey hung to his shoulders; his beard was fully silver. At his waist, the hilt of a dragon-handled sword glimmered.
He stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at us. "Well, look what we have here," he said. "Both the Yin and Yang holders, eh?" He descended the steps with a broad, false smile. "What fine—what great pleasure it is to meet you both."
A chill prickled my spine. There was something off about him, something oily under the cordiality. He rubbed his hands and smacked his lips. "You're here for guidance, I take it?" he asked, a snicker catching at the end of his words.
I straightened. "What do you know about the Yin and Yang spirits?"
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming and boastful. "What do I know?" The laugh faded; his eyes sharpened. "Follow me."
He took us high into the mountains, to a peak where the sun burned bright and cold air cut like knives. "My name," he said, "is Eqihr. And I'm going to teach you about the spirits."
Manny shivered. "Couldn't you do it somewhere warm?"
Eqihr pressed his hands together like claws. Roots sprouted from the rock. A snap of his fingers ignited them. We edged closer to the flames.
"What I'm about to tell you isn't just a story," he said. "It's a guide to training. To understand your power, you must understand all aspects of nature—light and dark."
We nodded.
"You'll need to immerse yourselves in five major biomes for ten hours each."
Our jaws dropped. "Ten hours?"
Eqihr shrugged. "Not my rules."
He twiddled his fingers, grinning. "Now, let's get sta—" He caught himself. "Let's get started."
Another snap and his dragon teleported us to a blazing desert. The sun hammered down. Sweat dripped instantly.
"Easy one first," Eqihr said. "Take them off."
"What?"
"Your clothes. Off. Now, Nature can't flow into you if you're wrapped up."
We hesitated, but he was insistent. We stripped down to our underwear. He nodded. "Good enough. Sit. Hands together. Close your eyes. Feel for life energy."
I sat, sand scorching my legs. He's a pervert, I thought. Not even trying to hide it.
"It's not working, Eqihr," I muttered.
He cracked one eye. "Are you looking hard enough? Ten hours."
I groaned, remembered, and settled back into position.
He shuffled nine feet away, twiddling his fingers. "Do you mind?" I asked. "Hard to focus while being watched."
He actually apologized and sat down, still grinning.