"Lost in thought again, Jhon?"
Selene's voice cut through the silence like a breeze over ancient waters. There was more than just sound in it—a deep vibration, as if every word summoned silent answers from reality itself.
Jhon lifted his eyes, torn from his spiral of contemplation. He hadn't noticed her approach. That was how she was: a subtle presence, undeniable nonetheless.
Their gazes met for a moment. He allowed himself a faint smile—discreet, almost imperceptible, but genuine. A ray of light in the gravity of his mind.
"These students... they're promising" he murmured, a note of sadness in his voice contrasting with the hopeful gleam in his words. His hands rested on the runic table before him—a living surface breathing fragments of eras past. Lines of energy coursed through its veins like arcane blood in a body of stone.
"But the path unfolding before them... is not just complex. It's cruel. Crossing the veils of existence and dissolution demands what few can sustain: the fullness of the soul. The burden of revelation can consume even the most resolute."
Selene watched him with quiet attention. Her eyes—two calm emeralds on a serene face—reflected something beyond empathy. A deep recognition from someone who had faced the abyss of existence and returned transformed.
She moved closer, her motions fluid like a cosmic dance.
"True understanding never comes raw, Jhon" she said, tenderness wrapped in conviction.
"Not even for us. What we teach... are starting points. True learning emerges in the crossing: in the falls, the scars, the pain... and in rare flashes of inspiration."
She placed a book on the table with the care of one handling relics. Runes on the cover briefly glowed—a subtle, respectful acknowledgment. The air thickened momentarily with ancestral weight.
"This tome was sealed when constellations still obeyed whispered commands," she said.
"It contains forgotten fragments, remnants of a dangerous... yet necessary wisdom. The young we guide today might reach realities even we... have avoided touching."
Jhon extended his hand toward the tome. His fingers halted inches away, feeling its pulse—slow, steady, grave like the drums of time. As if it held the rhythm of Samsara: the endless cycle of birth, loss, and return.
Opening it, he lifted a veil between worlds. Pages revealed arcane diagrams—not mere lines, but subtly shifting shapes pulsing with ancestral Qi. Rivers of intertwined symbols spiraled alive, each curve a hidden path, each dot a seed.
"This... could change everything" he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Selene withdrew with the lightness of one who never truly belonged to this world. Her silk dress floated around her like a conscious mist, barely touching the ground out of courtesy.
The silence seemed to bow to her departure—reverent.
"Until class, Master of Return."
The title carried layers. Selene never spoke lightly. By naming him so, she acknowledged what Jhon truly was: a master whose command over the cycles of life and death transcended common limits. Someone who not only understood the portals between worlds but walked through them at will.
She vanished down the academy's corridors, leaving behind a soft breeze scented with ethereal star-jasmine.
Jhon inhaled deeply, taking in not only the fragrance but the weight of the moment. His eyes closed briefly. In self-imposed darkness, glimpses of the future danced: diverging paths, inevitable pain, and a tenacious spark of hope.
He knew what came next was no mere lesson. It was revelation. Choices capable of altering the fabric of fate.
While the youths sought power, wisdom, transcendence... he was there for something greater. To guide them. Or restrain them, if needed.
Meanwhile, at the academy...
Selene Aetheris walked the corridors of the great tower of instruction. The environment reacted to her presence—white marble floors reflected not only her image but the grace of her steps. Stained glass cast dancing shadows that moved to her rhythm.
No sound. Her footsteps were silent promises of wisdom.
Her dress—silver and navy—seemed woven from the very life energy of the realm. Time slowed in her presence.
Wherever she passed, young and veteran cultivators paused their practice, bowing slightly.
It wasn't protocol. It was respect.
Not for her undeniable beauty, but for her presence: a rare balance between absolute power and sincere compassion. Like a flame that warms without burning.
Today, she approached the advanced class.
Youth aged sixteen to eighteen, chosen not only for raw talent but for the rare spark in their spiritual cores.
They sought to understand Creation and the primordial paths of Life—cosmic currents intertwined like galaxies dancing in the void.
The classroom door opened at her touch. A barely perceptible breeze entered with it.
Not wind. Energy—the manifestation of Selene's essence, whispering that everything was about to change.
The students remained silent. Not forced. Instinctively.
Something within them understood their souls would be challenged from now on.
Selene crossed the circular hall to the center. The pale jade floor reflected not only the disciples' bodies but their hidden hesitations and yearnings.
She raised one hand—a simple yet absolute gesture.
A silent barrier rose around the room.
The outside world ceased.
With a voice that seemed born from the heart of the world, she began:
"Today" she said, "we unveil the veils of creative paths. And those that sustain existence."
Her presence became the gravitational center of a star system.
Even without words, her aura kept everything in orbit—attentive, silent, receptive.
As she lifted her hand, the air rippled.
A sphere of energy formed before her.
Gold and blue spiraled slowly—as if time itself were contained within.
She named nothing.
The students felt it in body and soul: the call of vastness.
The sphere was not just light.
It was matter in potential. Idea before form. An ancestral pulse whispering the origin of all things.
"What you see" Selene's voice dawned soft over ancestral lakes, "is not a mere spell. It is the seed of reality. What precedes the word—the force that shapes matter and inscribes meaning into the void."
The sphere shifted, spinning in complex patterns.
Miniature continents emerged. Oceans and mountains rose like memories of lost worlds.
Ephemeral creatures wandered fleeting lands.
Then, collapse: earthquakes, deserts, ice.
All returning to the source.
The students watched breathless, witnessing eternity and the intimate dance of ruin.
"All creation carries with it the promise of disappearance," she continued, walking among them.
"To create is an act of love... and detachment. Nothing truly alive remains unchanged."
She paused.
In that silence, young hearts beat in sync with the cosmic sphere.
Many breathed differently now—deeper, more present.
With another gesture, she dissolved the miniature world.
In its place, a white flower bloomed.
The simplicity contrasted with the earlier spectacle, but its presence was overwhelming.
A soft fragrance filled the air.
The warmth touched each disciple like a forgotten embrace.
"Shaping forms is not enough" Selene said.
"The true crossing happens when creation begins to feel. When it pulses with purpose."
The flower vibrated with pure energy—as if born not from will, but from connection to the world.
The students sensed the inexplicable—an invisible thread extending from stem to core.
"This flower breathes the same breath that sustains us. It was not merely formed—it was aligned with the eternal flow of existence.
This is understanding the foundation of life."
A wide-eyed student couldn't hold back his restlessness:
"Master Selene... how can we approach such power? It feels... beyond comprehension."
She turned to him.
Her smile held the tenderness of a thousand lives.
"You were made for this.
Why couldn't you understand?
Touching the essence of life requires neither strength nor haste.
But listening. Humility before the invisible. A willing heart."
Then, before his eyes, the flower glowed.
Not violently—but with growing beauty.
The petals gilded.
The stem strengthened.
The very air seemed to breathe around it.
Not mere transformation... revelation.
"This," she said, voice low and firm, "is evolution.
Not change of form, but expansion of purpose.
Life energy, wisely guided, does not just heal... it rebuilds.
Transforms decay into birth.
Makes forgotten things bloom."
Silence.
Denser than any sound.
Even skeptics stood still.
In that moment, there was no technique, rivalry, or desire.
Selene dissolved the flower.
The room exhaled collectively, returning to neutrality.
"Now... feel."
She stepped back to the edge of the circle, opening space.
The disciples closed their eyes one by one.
The Qi in the room thickened—not oppressively, but gently.
A subtle vibration, like cosmic strings stretched between their chests and infinity.
Do not seek control. Just perceive. The flow is everywhere. Inside you. Between you.
She walked silently among the students.
Her eyes saw beyond posture—perceiving internal fluctuations, faint glimmers in each core.
Each soul was a distant lamp: some flickering, others surprisingly steady.
"Those who shape must also sustain.
Creation without purpose tears the fabric of the world.
Life demands responsibility."
With a gesture, she raised the sphere of energy again—now more complex.
Diagrams appeared within it: concentric circles, spiral flows, interconnected currents.
"The cycles of existence reflect the stages of cultivation.
Four expressions: Birth, Deepening, Transformation, Union."
She touched each circle. They all glowed.
"In the first, you absorb the world.
In the second, you converse with it.
In the third, you shape it.
In the fourth... you become it."
She pointed to a student.
"You. Feel. Don't think."
He nodded. Focused.
Slowly, a small flame shone in his palm.
Twinkling... but alive.
A shy will seeking permission to exist.
"Now listen. Don't command. Understand your cycle."
The young man calmed.
The flame stabilized.
Sweat ran down his temples—spiritual effort, not physical.
Others followed: a drop of water in a girl's palm, a leaf sprouting in another's.
Weak lights. Trembling vibrations.
No grand feats... but real.
Selene raised both hands.
The central energy condensed like the birth of a star.
A colossal tree emerged—roots piercing untouched planes, branches stretching like open arms toward infinity.
"It is not an illusion.
It lives. Feels. Learns.
If wounded, it remembers.
If loved, it blooms."
The students rose—eyes wide, hearts beating in the rhythm of creation.
"With time... you too can do this.
Not just shape the world...
but give it meaning."
She lowered her hands.
The tree remained.