Rin sat cross-legged in the middle of the courtyard, the pendant resting against his chest, faintly pulsing like a heartbeat out of sync with his own. Cal had left him alone, saying something about "letting the silence do the teaching." Rin wasn't sure if it was wisdom or laziness. Either way, he didn't mind.
The world around him buzzed with strange energy—like the city itself breathed. The Threshold had a rhythm. It wasn't his. Not yet.
What does it mean to reflect who I am? Rin's thoughts looped, not out of panic, but out of a quiet tension. What if there's nothing worth reflecting? What if the Realm looks back and sees... nothing at all?
He closed his eyes.
The stillness didn't bring peace. It brought awareness. The weight of the pendant. The faint tremble of the ground. The pressure in his chest when he breathed too deeply.
Identity. The word hung in his mind like a cracked mirror. Cal said his power was tied to who he was, but Rin didn't even know what that meant anymore. Was he the boy who once stared at walls, counting seconds just to feel like time mattered? Or the stranger walking through impossible streets in a place that shouldn't exist?
He inhaled slowly.
The world dimmed. Not literally—but as if his senses dulled everywhere except inside. A thread tugged at him, deep in the chest, pulling inward. The stone warmed.
Then came the sensation. Not quite falling—but slipping. Like gravity bending sideways, asking him to trust it.
And he did.
The world peeled back.
He stood in a place both familiar and alien—his Anchor Realm. It wasn't built like the Threshold. It wasn't built at all. It just was. Skyless. Borderless. A landscape of ash and cold wind. Trees that moved like smoke. Ground that hummed with secrets it didn't want to tell.
He walked.
There were no answers here, not yet. Just echoes of thought, flickers of memories that weren't whole. But in the stillness, he realized something: the Realm didn't lie. It simply showed what he didn't want to see.
Loneliness. Guilt. The slow erosion of self.
This is me, Rin thought, his hands clenched at his sides. Not a warrior. Not a chosen one. Just a hollow thing trying to make sense of noise.
And somehow, the Realm answered—not in words, but in pressure. A pulse of energy that acknowledged the thought. Not acceptance. Not rejection. Just... acknowledgment.
He opened his eyes.
Back in the courtyard, the sky swirled on, indifferent. The pendant was cold again.
But he felt it—something inside had shifted. He hadn't taken control of his power. Not yet. But it had taken notice of him. And that was enough.
For now.
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