The night rested over Suryashan like a silent mantle. Avaran meditated on the porch, Saryan slept leaning against him, and Tribal watched the sky, restless. He felt something. Not a voice. Not a presence. But a rhythm, an imperceptible movement that surged through everything. Avaran opened his eyes slowly.
— "You noticed it, didn't you?"
Tribal hesitated.
— "I noticed… something. Like a sound that comes from nowhere."
Avaran smiled. It was the smile of someone who had spent decades listening to that very thing.
— "It is the Great Master."
Tribal frowned.
— "A being?"
Avaran laughed softly, shaking his head.
— "Not exactly. The Great Master does not speak, Tribal. He reveals himself in things."
Avaran tapped the ground gently.
— "Here."
Then he touched his own chest.
— "Here."
Then he pointed his finger toward the sky.
— "And here as well."
Saryan woke up, stretching gracefully.
— "He doesn't speak like we do. He is like a music that played before any ear ever existed."
Avaran signaled for Tribal to sit.
— "I will teach you how to listen. Not as a human. Not as a son of the Earth. As a spiritualist."
Tribal sat down. Avaran guided him:
— "Close your eyes. Stop searching for sounds. Stop searching for thoughts. Now… feel what remains when everything that is yours disappears."
Tribal took a deep breath. And for the first time, he let his inner glow dim a little. The world grew distant. The trees faded. The wind lost its name. The body lost its form. And then… He heard it. It wasn't a voice. It wasn't a being. It was a law. A living pattern, silent, pulsing. Like the secret rhythm that sustains all things. Like the hidden logic inside every atom. A music. Without a singer. Something that existed since before the light.
Tribal opened his eyes, surprised.
— "This… this is everything. The earth, the air, the movement, the order…"
Saryan smiled.
— "It is the Great Master."
Tribal breathed slowly.
— "No. It's not a master. It is… the very functioning of the world. It is the origin of everything."
Avaran nodded confidently:
— "Yes. That is why we say 'Master.' He teaches without speaking."
Tribal looked toward the horizon, feeling something subtle and true.
— "This… this isn't someone. It's a structure. A foundation."
Avaran and Saryan did not fully understand. Not because they were ignorant, but because they did not yet have the necessary pieces. Saryan explained the only way she could:
— "It's like… like feeling the force of creation without knowing where it came from. Like seeing Physics… without knowing the Mathematics that sustains it."
Avaran completed:
— "We call it the Great Master because it's the name we can reach. But we know it is greater than that."
Tribal felt his chest warm. They weren't hearing Adargas as a person. They were hearing what Adargas left in the world. The principles. The rhythms. The fabric. The silent soul of existence. The music. But not the singer.
Tribal closed his eyes again. He had learned. In a humble way. In a patient way. In a true way. And when he heard that pulse again… He knew: Adargas was there. But he wasn't speaking. He was being.
The night remained calm when the teaching ended. Avaran and Saryan stood up with the serenity of those who find meaning in the simple. They knew that Tribal and Alaya were powerful—sons of the Earth, molded by immortality, capable of tearing through dimensions and bending light. But what they taught there… wasn't power. It was perception. It was hearing what lives beneath everything. It was Saryan who said, while yawning:
— "You already know much more than we do. But sometimes… those who look far away forget to look at the silence of what is near."
Avaran agreed:
— "Strength and wisdom are not the same thing. And you have both. You just needed to remember how to listen."
Alaya smiled with humility. She was living light, but she had learned something new. Something even Tribal didn't know.
— "Thank you," she said. "You two carry an ancient sweetness."
Avaran touched his chest, as if guarding those words.
— "It is not ours. It belongs to the Great Master. We only transmit it."
Saryan took him by the hand, and together they went to lie down in the simple house made of golden wood. Tribal and Alaya stayed on the porch for a while. There was a good silence between them.
— "Did you notice how they see the world?" she asked.
— "I did," Tribal replied, looking at the dark horizon. "And for a moment… the world seemed bigger than the two of us."
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
— "It always has been, my beloved. We just forget."
When Alaya also went to rest, Tribal remained alone. The night was so deep it seemed to breathe. The wind brought the scent of damp soil, herbs, and living wood. And then, without warning, a thin rain began. Tribal lifted his face. The drops fell slowly, as if the sky were handing him small pieces of truth. Every drop… every molecule… every vibration… carried the signature of Adargas. Not a voice. Not a thought. Not a presence. But an essence.
Tribal smiled to himself, in silence. He felt Adargas in everything—in the water touching his face, in the breeze moving the leaves, in the gravity pulling the rain to the ground, in the heat escaping the earth, in the invisible pulse between atoms. Everything was Adargas. But nothing spoke. Everything simply was. It was as if the universe breathed inside him.
Tribal closed his eyes and dove deeper into that sensation—into that infinite music that had no singer. And that was when he felt it.
A second rhythm. Weak. Dissolved. But different. It wasn't the vibration that Avaran and Saryan heard. It wasn't the structure of the world. It wasn't the primordial music of things. It was… a soul. A presence hidden where none should be.
Tribal opened his eyes, serious. This energy… he had felt it before. A distant echo, something that was always nearby, but never defined. And then he understood. What moved the spiritualists… the origin of their sensitivity… did not come from the Earth. It did not come from the light. It did not come from Adargas.
It came from Elshua.
It was as if, without knowing, all spiritualists carried a tiny spark of him within—a fragment of his essence, dissolved into the world. A gentle shadow, not evil… but hungry for meaning.
Tribal felt his heart tighten.
— "So that's it…" he whispered, looking at the dark sky. "You walk with my brother's breath… and you have no idea."
The rain continued to fall, but now Tribal felt it differently. He perceived the music of creation… and the hidden note that did not belong to it. And in that instant, he knew: Avaran and Saryan believed they were hearing the Great Master… but they were hearing something that came from Elshua, filtered through the laws of Adargas. It wasn't evil. It wasn't good. It was just… ancient. Deep and lonely.
Tribal took a deep breath. The world was changing. And so was he.