Strangely enough, Névé found herself actually anticipating Scoria's usual intrusions into her secluded garden spot this year. Even as a child of the enemy, he had become something of a constant with which she felt a kinship. They were two prodigies seeking refuge from the weight of expectations in this cozy little garden.

  He showed up every other day of the festival, but it looked like he wasn't coming today.

  She could understand why, in two days they were supposed to have their first duel of the year against each other. Or they would have—if he had won his match this morning.

  But he didn't.

  This year, the two of them, along with her fiancé Master Firn, had all been advanced to the Adolescent Bracket of the elemental tournament. Master Firn and Scoria were both battling a whole age group higher than themselves, and Névé was fighting an astonishing two age groups higher.

  It was the first time in the entire festival's history that there were three children advancing a stage, let alone one of the children being advanced two stages, and it was clear why this state was unprecedented.

  Their opponents all ranged between the ages of sixteen and nineteen, and they dwarfed the children in terms of both raw physical strength and surpassed them in experience. Even Névé, who had dominated in past years, found herself struggling to hold onto the top of the leaderboard.

  Firn had already been eliminated—which she knew would only deepen his acrimonious jealousy toward her—and Scoria was now just two losses away from following suit.

  If Scoria wanted a chance to duel against her this year he would have to win every one of his matches henceforth to face her in the finals.

  Something which everyone was now fully aware would not happen.

  The Elemental Festival of 3991 had finally come to an end, and later that day, Névé would return to the Sodality of Rain. The last few days of the festival had been miserable. With the Adolescent Bracket concluded, she had been forced back into her usual gruelling training while Master Firn refused to speak to her in his childish disdain towards her victory in the face of his failures.

  And through it all, she never once saw Scoria.

  After skipping the garden on that day of his first loss, Scoria had gone on further to lose his next two matches, knocking him out of the tournament in seventh place. Still, it was far more impressive than Master Firn's dismal fifteenth—but she knew Scoria wouldn't see it that way. He especially wouldn't want to confront the girl half his age who had taken first place.

  Yet, for some reason, Névé found herself still making one last trip to their clearing before she left.

  She didn't know why, nor did she know when she started calling it their clearing. But she did.

  When she arrived, she was surprised to see Scoria already there.

  From what she heard; he was supposed to have left the day prior… not that she was paying any attention to what he was doing or anything.

  "Névé!" He shot to his feet, his voice eager, but then quickly cleared his throat and corrected himself.

  "Névé," he repeated, this time trying for a more composed, serious tone.

  She didn't know why, but for some reason the sight of his antics brought an unfamiliar warmth to her chest. A smirk almost reached her lips before she caught herself, masking it behind a more practiced expression of disapproval.

  She still hadn't quite gotten used to the whole expressing thing, but since being betrothed to Master Firn, she was being well trained for noble etiquette, which helped a lot.

  "I'm sorry for ghosting you like that," Scoria admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes low. "I just... felt embarrassed, I guess."

  It was clear he had prepared for this moment, but now that he was standing here, the words weren't coming as easily as he'd expected.

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  "Anyway," he went on, his voice regaining its usual fire, "next year will be different. I'm gonna train harder than I ever have before, and I'll finally get my revenge. Just you wait so I can beat you up. I'll beat you so hard you'll completely forget about Firn!"

  Névé tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "What does Master Firn have to do with anything?"

  She didn't understand what Scoria was trying to say. But somehow, even without understanding, his words gave her a strange sense of comfort.

  She made a mental note to refine her noble etiquette further—perhaps then she would learn how to decipher such odd, incongruous feelings.

  The river: it was an enormous biome deeper than the tallest castles containing a breathtaking ecosystem unparalleled in diversity. It was a world within a world. Its elaborate intricacies could never be fully appreciated with just a glance at the simple sways of its surface.

  Beneath its dark mirror lay a realm of unparalleled complexity, its vast ecosystem woven from countless unseen interactions.

  Life and death, birth and growth.

  Thousands of species colliding in an eternal ballet—feeding, sleeping, exploring, loving, fighting, warring, all to never be seen by humanity.

  Except for Névé.

  Standing at the river's center, poised atop its surface, she felt its entire history whisper to her. She heard every silent tragedy and triumph.

  She spat out a viscous string of blood. Her mind flickered in and out of consciousness, wavering between presence and oblivion.

  Yet, beneath her feet, the universe unfolded. She was everywhere at once—her heartbeat in a thousand creatures, her eyes seeing through all of theirs. Their sorrow and joy, their hunger and fear. To this world, she was mother and reaper.

  She was God.

  Matron of reality.

  But she was still imperfect.

  The power coursing through her did not come without cost. It was ripping her apart, wringing every last drop of energy from her failing body. Her muscles had withered, her limbs trembled, her throat burned with thirst, and her vision blurred with tears.

  It was physically painful to maintain her territory.

  And yet…

  More than any training she had endured, more than any battle she had fought—this was fun.

  It was beautiful. And in time, she learned to love her river.

  She loved the children of her dominion. She loved her universe.

  Above all, the vastness of her training ground gave her the perfect space to discreetly hone her secret skill.

  With time, she became disconnected from her Sodality. There was once a time when she might have eagerly shared her discovery with them, might have sought their approval, their praise. But now the discoveries were hers and hers alone.

  She knew her secret would forever be hers. None of the incompetents of her Sodality could ever accomplish what she did. No one, not even Firn, had even a glimmer of hope of obtaining it.

  She planned to secretly train and unveil her skill at the upcoming elemental festival to show Scoria.

  She didn't know why he was the first person she wanted to show her secret to. Perhaps it was the kinship she felt—the two of them, outcasts standing above the masses. Deities among the inept.

  "Enough."

  The word of release.

  She exhaled, and the river vanished in an instant, its vast body dissolving into clouds that drifted away across the continent. In its absence, an endless rain of sea life cascaded from the sky, stretching from horizon to horizon—the creatures of her domain displaced, abandoned, their homes erased with a single command.

  Once, she had watched as the pilgrims wandered into her world. She watched as they settled, as they grew—families forming, lives intertwined, all so intimately connected to her heart. And yet, she had cast them aside without hesitation.

  Now she watched them fall, their river gone, mouths gasping for breath. Suffocating.

  Névé ensured to have the water below her and her instructor relinquish slowly like an elevator descending them casually to the ground that hid impossibly far down.

  "Only two months," her instructor scolded, unable to hide their disappointment. "your progress has slowed. Why can't you improve upon the simplest of tasks? Are you failing me, your Sodality, on purpose? After all that we have given you, the clothes we have dressed upon you, the food we have fed you, the money we have paid to your parents. You owe us Névé. When I tell you to do better. Do better!"

  Névé's face refused to return any sense of apology or reaction at all.

  Internally, she was ecstatic.

  She hadn't been practicing her secret skill during her first attempt at creating a river ecosystem. The fact that she managed to improve both skills simultaneously was an undoubted accomplishment.

  Besides, she had far given up on any possibility of actually pleasing her instructor. It was clear that more was always expected of Névé regardless of her results.

  Névé collapsed to the ground, her pain only obscured by her satisfaction. Not even her instructor's scoff and following words could discourage her. "You will have one day's rest, then try again. Do not disappoint this time."