Fang Yuan spent the rest of the day wandering the outskirts of the village,
replaying everything in his head like a broken reel.
He could bend earth.
There was no denying it anymore.
It wasn't a trick of the mind, some dream-state illusion or fevered
hallucination. The way the stone cracked beneath his touch, the subtle pull he
felt beneath his skin—it was real. Raw and unfinished, but undeniably
real.
He returned to the village by dusk, the sun bleeding into the horizon like a
wound. The small settlement glowed with soft amber lanterns, casting long
shadows that danced between the mudbrick homes. Children had gone inside. The
laughter was gone. Quiet had settled in like a blanket of tension he hadn't
noticed before.
Something felt… off.
As he made his way back to the hut where he had woken up, Fang Yuan caught the
eyes of an old man sitting beneath a crooked tree. The man was wrapped in dusty
green robes, his beard long and gray like tangled vines. He didn't speak. He
just stared
Not with curiosity.
With knowing.
Fang Yuan hesitated. The man's eyes bored into him—not hostile, but heavy, like
they carried the weight of something old.
"…Evening," Fang Yuan muttered.
The old man didn't respond. He just gave a faint nod, then looked away,
muttering something under his breath in a dialect Fang Yuan didn't
recognize.
Weird.
Back inside the hut, Fang Yuan laid on the straw mat and stared at the ceiling,
unable to sleep. Questions gnawed at him.
Why me?
Why here?
And what the hell am I supposed to do with this power?
He rolled onto his side and clenched his fists. The energy was still there,
just beneath the surface, like stone grinding against stone. Not always active,
but waiting. Watching.
"Earth," he whispered. "That's just one. If I really am... something else… what
about the others?"
But sleep took him before he could answer his own
question.
---
He dreamt of a great chasm. Black stone walls stretching endlessly down into an
abyss. In the darkness, something moved. Something massive, slow, and ancient.
Its form was unclear—a slithering mass, or a coiled root? He couldn't
tell.
And it was whispering.
No words. Just sound. Vibrations. Like boulders grinding together, like
tectonic plates shifting deep underground. The sound pulled at his bones,
echoing through him until he woke, breathless and drenched in
sweat.
It was still night. The moon was high, pale and watchful.
Something pulled him to his feet.
He didn't know why, but his body moved on its own. He slipped out of the hut,
barefoot, stepping over loose stones and patches of brittle grass. Past the
houses, past the well, past the edge of the
village.
Dawn.
The wind was silent. The trees stood still. The only sound was the hum beneath
his feet—growing louder the farther he walked.
Until he reached it.
A stone shrine, half-buried and covered in moss, hidden in the woods like it
had been forgotten on purpose. It was small, unassuming, just a squat circle of
standing stones and one monolith in the center, carved with worn glyphs in
ancient Earth Kingdom script.
Fang Yuan stepped forward.
His hand touched the monolith.
And the world shook.
Not violently—just enough to tell him he wasn't alone.
Light flared from the glyphs. Green, pulsing, alive. The hum beneath his feet
surged into a chorus, and suddenly the earth was speaking again—not with words,
but with memory.
Images flashed in his mind. Earthbenders long dead, carving the land with power
and grace. Spirits walking alongside them. Great beasts of stone and sand. And
at the center of it all—balance.
And then it ended.
Fang Yuan stumbled back, gasping.
The shrine dimmed. The glyphs faded. But something had changed inside
him.
The pressure in his chest was heavier. The connection to the ground felt
deeper, stronger. He could sense the shape of every rock beneath him, the
subtle shifts in the soil, the presence of life moving around
him.
"I didn't just bend the earth," he whispered. "I heard it."
He wasn't sure how long he stood there, absorbing the moment.
But when he turned to leave, he wasn't alone.
The old man from the tree stood just beyond the stones, arms crossed,
watching.
"…You felt the call too," the man said. His voice was cracked but
firm.
Fang Yuan froze. "You followed me?"
"No. The earth told me you would come."
"…Great. So we're doing the cryptic elder thing now?"
The old man smiled faintly. "You mock what you don't understand. Typical of the
young."
Fang Yuan narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
The man stepped closer. "My name is Ba-Shan. Once, I was an earth sage. Now, I
am only a listener."
Fang Yuan raised a brow. "And what are you listening for?"
"Change," Ba-Shan said. "And you, boy, are the loudest sound I've heard in
decades."
The old man walked slowly to the monolith, placing a single hand on it. "This
shrine was built during the first war between spirits and men. It's not meant
for bending. It's meant for balance."
Fang Yuan stayed quiet.
"But you…" Ba-Shan turned his gaze back to him. "You cracked the stones.
Without training. Without understanding. That… should not be
possible."
"I didn't mean to," Fang Yuan muttered.
"That is what frightens me."
They stood in silence for a moment. Then Ba-Shan spoke again,
softer.
"Whatever you are… you are not just a bender."
Fang Yuan clenched his fists. "I'm not the Avatar. If that's what you're
thinking."
Ba-Shan nodded. "No… you're not."
"…But you're something."
Fang Yuan turned his back to the shrine, heart still thundering. "Then I guess
I'll have to find out what."
As he walked away, Ba-Shan's voice followed him through the
trees.
"Be careful, Fang Yuan. The earth is only the beginning. And not every spirit
welcomes your awakening."