Moons rose and fell over Silverleaf Village. The fruit trees were picked clean. Stalks of rice danced gently in the wind. Summer was almost upon them now. The turning of seasons would bring more than just sweltering heat down on Silverleaf village. It also meant the farmers would be twice as busy, rushing to harvest their crops before the heat took them. None of the village children would be spared from working the fields with their parents, all except Renya.

While her peers would be breaking their backs harvesting the year’s rice, it was just another pleasant day for Renya to practice weaving, even if she was being badgered by one very annoying Keeper.

“It’s not hard,” Qilen said to Renya, who was standing knee-deep in muddy pond water. “You just have to visualize in your mind what you want out of varya. It will respond to you, but only if you give it a reason.”

Renya nodded slowly, her gloved hands on her hips as if she knew what he was talking about.

“You have to feel the varya before taking it in your body,” Qilen continued. “Just like you can’t swim without first touching water.” He pointed up at the sky with a slender finger. “Break free from your shell, and open your mind’s eye to the world.”

“Do all weavers learn like this?” Renya asked. “With impossibly vague instructions?”

“Probably not,” Qilen admitted. “But it’s how I learned to weave.”

She frowned at him. “So, there are other methods that don’t require me to be submerged in sludge?”

“Of course,” he said, “there are thousands and thousands of ways to reach varya. But I’ve found this way works best. you’re more in tune with the wild, and thus, in tune with yourself.”

Easy for you to say, she thought bitterly. She was the one who’d have to spend hours scrubbing mud from her trousers.

Qilen rolled his eyes and leaped into the field, legs-first. Surprisingly, he didn’t even create a splash; he stood on the surface of the pond as if it was solid ground.

Weeks ago, Renya would’ve recoiled in shock. The past few days had changed her understanding of the world completely.

“My master made me stew in a swamp for a day,” Qilen said, looking down at her with an amused expression. “Compared to this, I had it way worse.”

“They made you sit in a swamp?” Renya asked. “That can’t be good for you.”

He snorted. “Of course it wasn’t. I was nearly eaten on six separate occasions—three of times by unfriendly locals who didn’t take kindly to intruders.”

Renya started. “People tried to eat you?”

“It’s a cultural thing, darling,” he said. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I don’t think I’d like to understand, she thought.

Qilen closed his eyes, breathing softly.

“I miss those times,” he mused. “It was good times. Wet, miserable times, but it made me who I am today.”

“It’s great that you can look back on it fondly,” she muttered, “but what did any of that have to do with varya?”

“During times of extreme danger is when your senses are most alert,” he explained. “Unfortunately, I'm not permitted to dangle you off a cliff or anything of the sort. But trust me—you’d learn a lot quicker if there were real stakes involved.”

Renya looked down at the muddy water, then leveled her gaze at Qilen.

“Alright,” she said, her fists clenched at the side. “Let’s do it. If you think that’s what will work, it won’t hurt to try.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes it would. . .” he hesitated. “It might not be such a good idea on second thought. I had a good feel for varya when I was thrown into that swamp. You haven’t even touched it yet.”

“That may be so,” she said, gesturing to her surroundings. “But anything beats this,”

She had spent morning after morning stuck in mud, trying to get a “feel” for varya. It obviously wasn’t working. And at this point, she was willing to do anything to escape from the bug-infested waters. Almost anything.

Qilen sighed but still nodded, albeit reluctantly. “I can’t put your life in danger,” he said, turning back to dry earth. “But what if I can make you think your life is in danger? An illusion of sorts.”

Renya trudged after him with much less elegance.

The sweat dripping from Renya’s face caused her spectacles to slide down the bridge of her nose. Hurriedly, she pushed it back up with the back of her hand. Losing her spectacles in a pond was the last thing she wanted, even if they didn’t fit her at all. It was a good thing then that the peddlers were arriving tomorrow. She had an entire list of things for the Priestess to buy—starting with a pair of new spectacles.

“You’ll need to give me a few moments to prepare the illusion,” Qilen continued. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked this kind of weaving.”

“An illusion?” Renya frowned. “How will it work?”

“Quite simple,” Qilen said, helping her up the embankment. “You’ll be under the impression your life is in danger, but it won’t be, at least not in the physical world. I suppose more of a dream than an illusion.”

Renya looked down at her stained trousers. “Can I change first?”

Qilen nodded absentmindedly. “Very well. If you must, then I suggest you hurry. This process will take some time, and the sooner we can get to it, the better.

An hour later, Renya had changed out of her dirty training garments. Qilen had made only a single demand of her. To keep whatever she saw in the vision secret, even from Qilen himself. It was a strange demand, considering he was the one weaving the vision, but she accepted without a word of protest.

“Are you sure about this?” Qilen asked, standing beside Renya’s bed. “This won’t be fun."

“I’m sure,” Renya said through gritted teeth. She glanced down at her restraints—Qilen had felt the need to literally tie her down. A precaution, he had told her. In case she started thrashing about in the vision.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But I implore you to be careful. While you may be in an artificial state of mind, you won’t be completely safe from any damage that could happen to your mind. No one ever is.”

Divine strike me down. What have I gotten myself into? Renya knew what she was doing was incredibly foolish. But what other choice did she have? The Priestess’ face grew graver by the day, and it was all Renya’s fault.

“Hold still,” Qilen said softly, placing his hands on her cheeks. They were cold.

Renya saw a flash of blinding light, and then she became someone else.