The rising sun painted Meridian City in golden hues as Saguna made his way to the Tranquility Garden. Despite his racing thoughts and the persistent throbbing of the marks on his neck, he had slept better than expected—no whispers had haunted his dreams.
Radji was already there when Saguna arrived, leaning against the garden wall with an open journal in hand, making meticulous notes. Three books from the Academy library were stacked neatly beside him.
"Have you been here long?" Saguna asked, settling on a stone bench across from him.
"Approximately forty-three minutes," Radji replied without looking up. "I wanted to compile our findings before we meet Professor Nyala. Organization helps me think."
Saguna glanced around the garden, deliberately avoiding looking at the banyan tree where he'd experienced the disturbing vision the day before. In the morning light, with dew still clinging to the leaves and the fountain's gentle splashing providing a soothing backdrop, it was hard to believe anything sinister could exist in such a tranquil place.
"Any new theories?" Saguna asked, gesturing toward Radji's journal.
"Several, though all remain speculative without further data." Radji finally looked up, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. "I've been researching similar symbols to our marks throughout Zendirah's historical records. The inverted triangle appears in various contexts, often associated with balance between elements or realms."
He held up one of the books, showing Saguna a page with various triangular symbols. "What's most interesting is the recurring mention of trinities—three elements, three realms, three phases of spirit communion. The number three has significant mystical importance across all domains."
The conversation halted as Osa approached, yawning widely. His uniform was slightly rumpled, as if he'd slept in it or thrown it on in a hurry.
"Morning," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Please tell me one of you brought food. I was too tired to stop for breakfast."
Radji wordlessly produced a small cloth bundle from his satchel, revealing several perfectly wrapped rice cakes. "I anticipated this possibility."
Osa's face lit up as he accepted the offering. "Radji, you're officially my favorite person today."
"It's time," Radji announced precisely, closing his journal and gathering his books. "Professor Nyala's class begins in seventeen minutes. We should arrive early to observe her behavior before other students arrive."
The Department of Historical Practices occupied one of the oldest buildings on campus—a stone structure with wind-worn carvings and narrow windows. Unlike the grand architectural flourishes of the main Academy buildings, this structure had a humble, almost forgotten quality to it.
Professor Nyala's classroom was a circular chamber with ceiling-high bookshelves lining the walls. Ancient maps and diagrams covered what little wall space remained, depicting Zendirah's domains with strange symbols marking various locations. A circle of low cushions replaced traditional desks, arranged around a central platform where a single cushion—presumably for the professor—faced the entrance.
They were, as Radji had planned, the first to arrive. Professor Nyala was already present, arranging various objects on a low table beside her cushion.
"Ah," she said without looking up, "the three observant ones from yesterday's orientation. I had a feeling you might arrive early." Her tone was casual, but there was an unmistakable note of satisfaction in her voice, as if their arrival confirmed something she had suspected.
Before any of them could respond, other students began filtering into the room, including Kiran Emberil with his usual entourage of admirers. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the three friends, but he said nothing, choosing a cushion on the opposite side of the circle.
Once all students were seated, Professor Nyala took her place on the central cushion. Unlike other professors who began their classes with grand speeches about academic excellence or the prestige of the Imperial Academy, she simply sat in silence, her posture perfect, her gaze moving deliberately around the circle of students.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Students shifted on their cushions, exchanged confused glances, or stared at their hands. Just as the tension was becoming unbearable, Professor Nyala spoke.
"Historical Practices is not a subject that can be understood through lectures alone," she said, her melodious voice carrying easily in the circular room. "To truly comprehend the traditions of our ancestors, one must experience them firsthand."
She gestured to the objects beside her. "Throughout Zendirah's history, our people have sought balance—between domains, between elements, between the seen and unseen worlds. The practices they developed were not merely symbolic rituals as modern scholars often claim, but techniques with practical purpose."
Kiran snorted quietly, but loudly enough to be heard. Professor Nyala's gaze fixed on him immediately.
"You find this amusing, Mr. Emberil?"
"With respect, Professor," he replied without a trace of actual respect, "we're at the Imperial Academy to learn governance and modern statecraft, not outdated superstitions."
Several students nodded in agreement, though others looked uncomfortable at his directness.
"Interesting," Professor Nyala replied, unruffled. "Tell me, do you consider your family's traditional fire-keeping ceremonies at the Ember Nexus to be 'outdated superstitions' as well?"
Kiran's cheeks flushed. "That's different. Those ceremonies honor our heritage."
"Indeed. And why do you suppose your ancestors began keeping those eternal flames in the first place?" When Kiran didn't answer, she continued, "The line between heritage and history, between tradition and truth, is rarely as clear as we might wish."
She stood gracefully, addressing the entire class again. "Today, we will practice one of the most fundamental techniques developed by our ancestors—the mindful breathing. In ancient times, this practice was believed to help one perceive the world more clearly."
Professor Nyala proceeded to lead the class through the proper posture and breathing technique, demonstrating how to sit with spine straight but not rigid, hands resting lightly on the knees, eyes half-closed.
"We will now relocate to the Tranquility Garden to continue our practice," she announced once everyone had mastered the basic position. "The ancients believed certain locations enhanced one's ability to focus. Whether this is true or merely provides a pleasant environment for meditation, I leave to your judgment."
As the class filed out of the building and back to the garden, Saguna felt a growing unease. The banyan tree seemed to watch him as they entered the garden space, its dangling roots swaying slightly despite the absence of breeze.
Professor Nyala directed the students to spread out across the garden. "Find a spot that feels right to you," she instructed. "Trust your instincts."
Saguna deliberately positioned himself as far from the banyan tree as possible, choosing a spot near the fountain instead. To his surprise, Osa settled nearby, while Radji chose a location a bit distant from both of them.
"Now," Professor Nyala said once everyone was positioned, "close your eyes and begin the focused breathing we practiced. Allow your awareness to expand beyond yourself. Notice everything—the sounds of water, the warmth of sunlight, the texture of the air as it enters and leaves your body. The ancients believed this state allowed one to perceive the subtle energies flowing through our world."
Saguna closed his eyes reluctantly, half-expecting the whispers to assault him immediately. Instead, he found the rhythmic breathing strangely calming. The mark on his neck warmed slightly, but the sensation was pleasant rather than alarming.
Osa had settled near the fountain, drawn to the sound of flowing water. As he followed Professor Nyala's instructions, something unusual began to happen. His breathing synchronized naturally with the rhythm of the fountain, each inhale and exhale matching the rise and fall of the water. The mark over his heart pulsed gently with warmth.
With each breath, Osa felt his awareness shifting. The sounds around him—rustling leaves, distant voices, even the calls of birds—seemed to slow, stretching like honey dripping from a spoon. When he opened his eyes, the world had transformed.
The fountain water no longer appeared as a continuous flow but as individual droplets suspended in air, moving with dreamlike slowness. Each droplet caught the sunlight, refracting it into miniature rainbows. Osa could see the perfect spherical shape of each water particle, and could trace the arc of its journey from spout to basin.
Fascinated, he reached out toward the nearest water droplet. To his astonishment, it responded to his gesture, deviating slightly from its path. He shifted his hand again, and more droplets followed the movement, creating a graceful curve in the air before continuing their descent.
A strange sensation began to flow through Osa's body—cool and fluid, like liquid moonlight filling his veins. The mark over his heart no longer merely warmed; it seemed to pulse with a rhythm matching the flow of the fountain. With each pulse, Osa felt more connected to the water, as if some invisible barrier between them was dissolving.
Without consciously deciding to do so, he extended both hands toward the fountain. The water responded immediately, a slender stream breaking away from the main flow to spiral upward, dancing in the air before him like a living thing. The sensation was indescribable—not like controlling something external, but like extending his own body, as natural as moving a finger or flexing a muscle.
For a brief, perfect moment, Osa felt complete harmony between himself and the element. He could sense every drop in the fountain, in the dew on the grass, even the moisture in the air around him. The water wasn't just responding to him; it was speaking to him in a language beyond words, who's there to call us? Osa hears the question as if a hundred voices ask them at the same time.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the moment ended. The water splashed back into the fountain, time resumed its normal pace, and Osa gasped as if surfacing from a deep dive. The mark over his heart cooled, though it continued to pulse faintly, like an echo of what had just occurred.
Across the garden, Radji had experienced something entirely different. While meditating, the ground beneath him had seemed to vibrate with a subtle resonance, as if responding to his presence. The mark on his forearm had traced patterns of warmth up his arm, branching like roots seeking soil. Though he hadn't manipulated earth as Osa had water, Radji had perceived something beneath the surface—networks of energy flowing through the ground like veins of ore in stone.
Meanwhile, Saguna's experience had been less dramatic but no less significant. For the first time since childhood, he had heard the whispers without fear. They still spoke in that ancient language, but instead of pressing against his consciousness like cold fingers, they seemed to offer guidance, fragments of wisdom just beyond his comprehension. The three marks on his neck had pulsed in sequence, creating a rhythm that somehow made the whispers more coherent.
Professor Nyala moved through the garden, observing each student with keen interest. Most sat in peaceful meditation, gaining nothing more than relaxation from the exercise. But when she passed near Saguna, Radji, and Osa, her steps slowed, and a slight smile played across her lips.
"That concludes our practice for today," she announced after everyone had meditated for nearly thirty minutes. "How did you find the experience?"
Students began sharing their impressions—most described feeling peaceful or refreshed, though some admitted they found it boring or difficult to maintain focus. When Kiran's turn came, he shrugged dismissively.
"I don't see how sitting around breathing helps us understand governance," he said. "Though I suppose the fresh air was pleasant enough."
Professor Nyala's gaze settled on him thoughtfully. "Interesting that you mention governance, Mr. Emberil. The High Council of Harmonizers in Meridian City still begins each session with a variation of this very practice. They believe it helps them make balanced decisions." Her smile widened slightly at Kiran's surprised expression.
When she turned to Osa, he hesitated, unsure how to describe what had happened without sounding delusional.
"It was... calming," he said finally, deciding to keep his experience private for now. "I felt very connected to my surroundings."
Radji and Saguna offered similarly vague responses, each sensing instinctively that their experiences should remain secret until they understood them better.
As the class ended and students began dispersing, Professor Nyala called out, "Mr. Taksa, Mr. Loma, Mr. Hann—a moment, please."
The three exchanged glances before approaching her. She waited until the other students had left the garden before speaking again.
"I noticed each of you chose interesting positions during our practice—forming a triangle around the garden." Her tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp, missing nothing. "In ancient times, such arrangements were believed to enhance perception. Did you find that to be true?"
Before any of them could answer, she continued, "I have additional reading that might interest you. Historical accounts of similar meditation practices and their... effects." She handed each of them a small, leather-bound book with no title on its cover. "These are rare texts not available in the general library. I'd appreciate your thoughts on them after you've had time to study."
She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and one more thing—you might find it beneficial to continue practicing the focused breath technique. Perhaps together, in the same triangular formation. Historical records suggest group practice often yields... unexpected insights."
With that cryptic suggestion, she departed, leaving the three friends standing in the garden with the mysterious books in hand.
"Did anyone else experience something... unusual during meditation?" Osa asked quietly once Professor Nyala was out of earshot.
"Define 'unusual,'" Radji replied, already flipping through the pages of the book he'd been given.
Osa glanced at the fountain, where water flowed normally now. "I saw the water moving in slow motion. I could... I think I made it move." He sounded uncertain, as if saying it aloud made him doubt his own experience.
"I felt the ground responding to me," Radji admitted after a moment of hesitation. "Not dramatically, but there was a definite sensation of connection."
They both looked at Saguna expectantly.
"The whispers," he said simply. "They were different this time. Less frightening, more... guiding." He touched the back of his neck where the marks lay hidden beneath his collar. "And these felt warm, but not burning."
Radji's analytical mind was already forming connections. "Water for Osa, earth for me, and you, Saguna—perhaps air or fire, based on our reactions to each other yesterday?"
"Professor Nyala knows something," Osa said, staring at the unmarked book in his hands. "The way she looked at us, the triangle comment—she was practically telling us she knew about the marks."
"The question is," Saguna added, "how much does she know, and can we trust her with our experiences?"