"I thought fear was a beast to conquer. It's not what I expected."
"They never are," she replied.
"These demons… we imagine." Her eyes blurred slightly.
"Tell me, what did you find?" The spliff floated in the air as she reached a hand to Muhammed.
Muhammed glanced at the hand, accepting it as he calmed himself before speaking.
"Myself. Small. Scared. I saw all the moments I turned my back on life because I thought I wasn't ready. Fear was never the enemy… it was a guard that forgot it was off duty," he spoke firmly, as if being honest was nothing compared to what he had just been through in his own mind.
And it was. He had not only looked at himself but confronted himself in complete and total honesty. One lie, and fear would consume him. One step back, and all would be lost. But he remained firm, even as Fear's voice boomed and threatened to devour him whole.
This wasn't just a test of mental and emotional fortitude.
This was him placing himself — not with the sword in hand — but with the blade to his neck, not knowing if the next move would save or destroy him. But still, he stood.
"Well, guards often outlive their purpose," she stated in agreement, before continuing.
"And you did not force it away?"
"I… I understood it." He paused, filtering through his experience.
"Understood what?"
"Fear was always protecting something precious. My dreams. My heart… But the only way it knew how was by saying no."
He stood still, head down, his expression conflicting.
"And what does that tell you?" she asked calmly.
"Being afraid doesn't mean I'm not ready. It may even mean I'm exactly where I need to be — standing on the edge of something important."
He looked up, back straight, his expression one of deep inner standing.
"What will you do the next time fear appears?"
"Fear will always be there. And its voice is valid. But it doesn't get to navigate the journey," he replied.
"That's the secret all who make this journey discover. Courage is not the absence of fear, but the presence of something greater," she stated as the floating spliff stopped circling and came to a halt in front of her.
"Love. Trust. Purpose. They make fear smaller," he continued.
"Not by fighting it, but by—"
"Giving it context," he finished the sentence.
"You even sound different," she remarked.
"Yeah. Like my future self," he said jokingly.
"You've begun quantum collapsing," she said, still in her calm tone.
"Quantum collapsing?" He was calm, but curious.
"It's not about acting like your highest self, but becoming. And by becoming, you transcend space and time — collapsing the space and becoming," she explained. It sounded profound, but Muhammed understood.
By assuming the state of his future self and holding that state, he would essentially collapse the illusionary "space" he perceived between himself and who he was becoming.
"It's akin to selecting a new skin," he thought.
"Select the skin, and the rest will follow — like presets of your chosen skin."
He was diving deeper and deeper into thought, but Yahweh's voice pulled him back.
"You haven't just confronted fear. You befriended it — that's the greater victory," her voice soothing as she spoke, while the spliff, without her pulling, began to be sucked like an invisible vacuum. The smoke condensed into a marble-sized ball in mid-air.
"I see that now… the journey continues. But I'm not running," he stated as he looked toward the door.
Elsewhere in the school…
"He's an interesting one, isn't he?" Electro said as he looked into a completely black mirror that distorted, showing Muhammed.
"Yeah, it's good that we got to him first," Malvern said from across the table.
"Yeah, but how do you think he'll react when he finds out this is a quote-unquote dark awakened school?" Malvern continued, almost sarcastically.
"He'll be fine when he finds out what the light faction really is. Those fanatics wouldn't treat him like we would."
"But what if he finds out about the little show we put on in the hospital — plus the fact that it hasn't been ten years since a possession-level awakened has shown up for the dark faction, not the light?" Malvern added.
"We'll handle that when it arrives. But you already knew that. So tell me, what is it you actually want to say?" Electro asked. He knew Malvern's ability was something between mind reading and foresight — and he wouldn't be asking these easy questions unless he had a reason.
"Can we be sure he'll follow our goal? We don't want another incident repeating," Malvern said, his signature smile still on his face.
"Our goal is noble and kind. I'm sure he'll agree. And don't you have to teach him about entities and egregores — how belief gives them form, and what we're really up against?" Electro's face was cast in shadows, voice low.
"You're right. But I'm telling you now, he won't be willing to submit to anybody," Malvern said as he turned from the table.
"That's fine. I don't need him to. He only has to pick a side — enemy or friend. The choice is his," Electro said, watching him disappear into the distortions.
Back in the corridor…
Muhammed had left the room on his own. Yahweh had left him with a few parting words.
"Fear is only the beginning. There is much more to come. Even I haven't reached the bottom of my void," she said calmly. Muhammed could tell that was a good thing — and yet, it still scared him. But he wouldn't let it control him.
"What's the goal of looking within?" he asked, curious, surprised — and ready.
"The goal is to know your true self. To reach your smallest point — which, in turn, makes you the biggest. You must know oblivion, know nothing, in order to create everything."
He took those words seriously. Even though they confused him, he would remember them.
He was on his way to find his discipline teacher. He'd forgotten to ask for directions, lost in thought. Now he considered calling out, like he was summoning a genie.
He hadn't looked around much, but the school was breathtaking. The long grand halls, the living paintings, the way the energy shifted in different parts like the building itself was breathing — it amazed him. But he didn't get to relish it.
Suddenly, the space shifted. Corridors moved. And down the hall stood Malvern.
"Come," Malvern's voice rang out — surprisingly close.
The space blurred. In an instant, Muhammed was snagged by his collar. His instincts flared, but his body couldn't react.
Suddenly, they were standing in a garden filled with colorful flowers and radiant leaves. It was dusk. Muhammed still had some weed in his system, so he was very relaxed.
"Where are we?" he asked. He wasn't angry — in this state, he didn't even think he could be. It felt like all negative emotions had been turned off.
"Come take a seat," Malvern nodded toward the gazebo in the center of the garden.
They were a fair distance away, but Muhammed didn't mind walking. He enjoyed the scenery as the sun set, while Malvern walked ahead in silence.
They reached the gazebo and sat opposite each other.
"So why'd you drag me here?" Muhammed asked, slouching into the bench.
"This is the garden where my journey started. It's a sort of safe place for me," Malvern said, smiling — but a subtle melancholy lingered in his voice.
Muhammed stayed quiet.
"If someone threatened your individuality… would you do anything to protect it? Or would you give it up in sight of a greater goal?" The question was simple, but heavy.
"My individuality?"
"Yes. But not just that — your entire existence. Everything you care about. Would you give that up for something 'greater'? Or protect your individuality at all cost?"
As the sun finished setting, Malvern's face faded into the shadows.
Muhammed thought for a moment. He knew what sounded better. But he was done pretending, done trying to appear a certain way.
"My individuality," he answered. His eyes sharpened — but still, he couldn't see past the shadow covering Malvern's face, like the blind spot when something gets too close to your eye.
"Okay. I see. It's night. You'll be with your discipline instructor tomorrow, so get some sleep — as he would tell you."
Malvern stood, moonlight revealing his signature smile.
"Okay… can you take me back to the city? Or my house?" Muhammed asked, realizing he had no idea where they were.
"Sure. I don't know where you live, but you can use a technique to envision it — and I'll amplify it with my energy," Malvern said, as if it were simple.
"Here, feel this energy." He raised his hand as a transparent blue current flowed toward Muhammed.
Muhammed let it touch his hand. It felt oddly familiar — like smoke with purpose.
"Now," Malvern continued, "imagine projecting that feeling out of your hand, while vividly imagining your house — your room. Whatever feels most like home. The key is to make it vivid. Intense."
Muhammed closed his eyes and followed the instructions.
It was as if the energy gathered in his hand, then pulsed outward. He held the sensation, then vividly pictured his room — and simply maintained that state.
"Okay. You can open your eyes — I've got it," Malvern said.
Muhammed opened his eyes slowly, focus intact.
As he squinted, he saw his room — as if through a transparent window. It was beautiful. Not the room itself — though he was grateful — but what he was doing. That… was amazing.
"You might wanna go anytime now."
"How—" he began, but was cut off.
"Don't worry. Someone will come get you tomorrow with all the paper documents," Malvern said, reading his mind.
"Okay."
And with that, Muhammed stepped through.