After concluding their private negotiations, Lady Penelope gracefully left the table, vanishing into the crowd with the poise of someone who always walked one step ahead. The siblings turned their attention back to the discussion underway.
The topic: the
The garden hummed with the energy of sharp minds and young geniuses, each eager to display their insight.
A young man in a deep-blue robe embroidered with lightning motifs stood confidently, his voice polished and clear.
"The Godly Poet teaches that our world rests on four primal elements—Wind, Water, Fire, and Earth. These are the foundation. But he also acknowledges derived elements—Ice, Fog, Lightning—secondary manifestations just as potent, though less stable."
He glanced around, making sure the crowd followed.
"Yet, there's a dilemma. Once a cultivator absorbs a primary element, their body becomes resistant to others. A Fire cultivator will struggle to absorb Water, and vice versa. Hence, dual-element practitioners are rare—and immensely valuable."
The audience murmured in agreement. Some nodded solemnly; others whispered thoughts of their own limitations.
"Why?" the speaker pressed. "Because the elements don't just define our power. They define us. Fire cultivators are passionate, often impulsive. Water cultivators are contemplative. Earth brings discipline. Wind inspires freedom."
Another man—older, more experienced—added from the front row.
"The Godly Poet wrote that elemental affinity influences not just our bodies, but our minds and spirits. Understanding this is crucial. Cultivating an element is as much about temperament as it is about technique."
Nika, who had been listening quietly, rose from his seat. The movement was subtle, but it drew attention. There was something about the way he stood—calm, centered, rooted—that silenced the crowd.
"All of you speak of the elements we see—Fire, Water, Earth, Wind. Even the derived ones. But let me ask this—have you ever considered the energies of the Sun, the Moon, or even the Stars and Sky?"
A hush fell over the garden. The air thickened with curiosity.
"The
Eyes widened. The question challenged not just tradition—but identity.
"The Sun breathes life into our world. The Moon commands the oceans. Stars endure longer than empires, longer than time itself. And yet... few cultivators even ask if these forces can be harnessed."
Someone from the back called out:
"They're too far. You can't cultivate what you can't touch."
Nika nodded, his tone measured.
"True. But we feel the Sun's heat every day. We see by the Moon's light. And the Stars—their light reaches us, even across the void. If we can sense it, we can resonate with it."
A sharp-eyed young woman leaned forward.
"And the stars? What would they offer? They're not elements."
"No," Nika replied. "They're older than the elements. The energy of the stars isn't just power—it's insight. Starlight is knowledge encoded in radiance. If the elements shape our bodies, perhaps starlight can shape our minds."
"That's madness," someone muttered.
"Is it?" Nika turned to the voice. "We absorb Fire, but we don't stand in flames. We harness Water without drowning. So why not learn from Sunlight without burning, or Moonlight without fading?"
Whispers surged through the gathering—skepticism, wonder, curiosity.
A stoic woman at the edge of the garden, clearly an elder disciple, finally spoke.
"And if what you say is true—if we could harness Sunlight, Moonlight, and Starlight—what would that mean for the path of elemental cultivation?"
Nika paused. Then spoke quietly, almost reverently.
"It would mean the four primals aren't the foundation. They're the next step. The Sun, Moon, Stars, and Sky—they may hold the key to a higher realm. A cultivation path that transcends the elemental divisions we know."
Silence followed—but not the heavy kind.
This was the silence of reflection.
Many were no longer looking at Nika, but inward—at their own paths, their limits, and the questions they'd never dared to ask.
From the side, Lady Penelope reappeared, her eyes narrowed, studying Nika as though seeing him in a new light.
"Your theory is... compelling," she said. "Unproven, of course—but compelling. And if it is true..." She glanced around at the stunned faces. "Then everything changes."
Nika didn't answer. He didn't need to.
He had said enough.
He sat, content. He had planted a seed of doubt—and perhaps something more.