So, every species had sothing carved into them, sothing stamped into their very marrow. An innate skill. An elent. A quirk of nature that separated them from the rest of creation. That was their inheritance, their signature.
But still—
"Doesn't that make my words true though?" I tilted my head, my brows arching, studying her like a puzzle I couldn't quite fit together. "You were born with the illusion ability. You perfected it over ti, sure. But it's still sothing you were born from. It's not like you clawed it out of nothing."
"Hah!" Wannre's sigh rolled out sharp as a blade dragged over stone. She shook her head with a little flick of annoyance, but also… resignation.
"I suppose that's one way to put it." Her voice dipped, thoughtful yet dismissive. "But you're still thinking in human fras. Isn't this closer to trying to match one species' instincts to another? Like comparing a monster's scent-lore to a rfolk's song, or a human's adaptability to a leviathan's scales? It's not the sa, and it never will be."
I had to admit, she wasn't wrong. It was like comparing a dog to a human. Two entirely different organisms built for entirely different rules. Trying to line them up as if they shared the sa stats sheet was beyond just naïve. It was idiotic.
"Yeah," I conceded with a small, self-deprecating laugh, "you're right. My fault." Then, without wasting another breath, I shifted the conversation to the question that had been gnawing at the back of my skull. "But putting that aside—why did you call here?"
For a heartbeat she just stared at . Then she shrugged, a lazy, unbothered roll of her slender shoulders.
"Well," she said, her tone light, teasing, "I assud you'd be dying to learn from your master. Yet, here you are, no spark, no fire, no enthusiasm. As your Master, I'm deeply disheartened."
I ignored her mock-offended tone. The exaggerated sigh, the feigned disappointnt. But she wasn't completely wrong.
Beneath my flat expression, there was a flicker of sothing else, excitent, maybe, or anticipation. Not the giddy sort, but the kind you get when you've done the hard part and now you're just waiting for the payoff.
I had already decided, long before this mont, that I would wring knowledge from her at any cost.
Whatever gas she played, whatever hoops she put in my path, I was going to learn how to control my elent. Seeing her this cooperative only made my job easier; I didn't even have to twist her arm with clever words.
"You're assuming it wrong," I said evenly. "I am excited to learn from you. You've been watching closely enough; you should know exactly how desperate I am to understand my elent."
I wasn't lying. If anything, my words fell short of the truth. From the first day I had discovered its existence, the thing had been gnawing at .
The dreams. The spirals of power slipping through my hands. The loss of control. The unknown and unfathomable mystery coiling around it like a serpent in deep water.
It wasn't just interesting. It was dangerous. And all this ti, I'd only been battered by the dangerous side of it. The mysterious side? I hadn't even scratched that surface. It was like staring at the other side of a coin you couldn't flip over.
Wannre listened, and for once she didn't cut in with so glib remark. She sighed again, softer this ti, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. Amusent flickered behind her veil of composure.
Stretching her arms languidly, she tilted her head, her smirk sharpening. "Okay. If that's the case, then I'm pleased." Her eyes glinted, catching mine.
"And yes, I do know how badly you want this. But you don't show it enough. Learn to show your struggle, show your emotions more openly. If people don't see it, they won't believe it. It's as simple as that."
I almost laughed at that. It wasn't that I couldn't show my emotions. I was perfectly versed in showing anger or at least, I used to be. The last mory my mind could clearly dredge up was the day at Rose Academy, when I'd beaten that guy who tried to molest Mia.
But beyond that? Nothing. No images, no flashes, no visceral monts of fury. It was as though my mory had been scrubbed clean. I knew, logically, that I had been angry before, especially back on Earth but the recollection was gone. Hollow.
And the strangest part? I didn't even feel disturbed by that fact. It was like staring into a missing piece of yourself and feeling… nothing.
Yeah.
Nothing at all. Even though I was quite frankly losing myself little by little, I felt no push, no instinctual jolt to act.
No primal need urging to survive. No whisper in my blood screaming at to conserve, to fight, to rember.
It was as if sothing in had been severed. Desire itself had rotted away.
To live. To survive. To conserve. To rember.
All of those threads that should have bound to the present mont felt cut, dangling in silence.
And perhaps Wannre noticed sothing shift in my face. So faint shadow of that emptiness bleeding through. Because she didn't smirk, didn't taunt, didn't posture with her veil of superiority.
Instead, she made a different expression. Amicable, almost gentle. An expression I couldn't place, one that felt out of character for her, as if she herself wasn't used to wearing it.
Her lips parted. Her tone ca low at first, then sharpened. "Arawn… I have never asked you about your elent. Tell . What is it?"
By the end, her voice wasn't asking anymore. It was commanding. Demanding. The weight of centuries pressed into the syllables, as if refusal itself would be an insult she wouldn't tolerate.
I hesitated.
It wasn't as though I wanted to hide it. The truth was that I couldn't show it. Even Mia, with her so-called golden finger—her damn system that laid bare everything about a person—could neither see its na nor hear it spoken.
What were the chances, then, that Wannre could perceive it?
Slim. Almost nonexistent.
At best, she would frown, confused, ask to repeat myself again and again until frustration won out. At worst, she'd dismiss it as a trick, a fabrication.
All I could hope to do was give vague answers, circle around the edges of it, ask her about the basics of elent control, and then twist those scraps into sothing usable.
But still—
A part of wanted to try. To speak it. To see if the silence in my chest would echo into hers.
So I let the word fall.
"Nothing," I said, my voice steady, my brows drawing tight. "My elent is Nothing."
The mont the syllables slipped free, I braced myself. I waited for her puzzled tilt of the head, for the inevitable narrowing of her eyes, for the flat demand to repeat myself.
Because how could anyone hear it? No one had. Not Mia. Not the system. Not anyone.
But then—
Her lips parted, and what ca next clawed the breath from my lungs.
"Nothing…" she repeated, clear as day. Her tone carried no confusion. Only intrigue. "Quite the peculiar elent. The power of nothingness."
She leaned back slightly, smiling beneath. "Well, it explains your placid expression. That utterly detached personality of yours."
Unlike how I had presud, unlike every prediction I'd made, Wannre had heard . Not only heard, but understood. She spoke it back without hesitation, as if the word hadn't been devoured by the silence of the world, as if it belonged on her tongue all along.
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