The memory pulled him deeper.
The walls blurred again, dissolving into mist.
Time folded backward, and Teleu found himself in that familiar hut once more.
.....
nine years ago. The Kingdom of Ankh.
The candles burned lower than before. Their wax had melted into twisted shapes, forming patterns that seemed almost deliberate—spirals, eyes, hands reaching upward.
Teleu sat in the same position he always did. Legs crossed. Back straight. Hands resting on his knees. His face was blank, but his eyes—those dark, hollow eyes—were fixed on his master with an intensity that belied his age.
He was eleven now.
Older by a year. Harder by a lifetime.
The master sat across from him, silent as stone. He had not spoken for an hour. He simply watched the boy, studying him as one might study a sacred text.
Finally, he spoke.
"You have been practicing."
It was not a question.
Teleu nodded once.
"Good," the master said. "Your soul separates easier now. You are learning to drift."
Teleu's jaw tightened. "I still cannot hold it. After a few breaths, I am pulled back."
"That is because you fight it. The body fears the separation. It believes death is near. You must teach it to trust."
"How long will that take?"
The master smiled faintly. "Years. Perhaps decades. Or perhaps tomorrow. The path is not measured in time, Teleu. It is measured in understanding."
Teleu said nothing.
The master leaned forward, his ancient eyes catching the candlelight.
"Tonight," he said slowly, "I will speak to you of the two great paths. The light and the dark. The ascent and the descent. The paths that all practitioners must choose."
Teleu's gaze sharpened.
"You have heard these words before," the master continued. "But you do not yet understand them. Most never do. They think the Light Path is goodness and the Dark Path is evil."
He shook his head.
"That is the thinking of children."
Teleu leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but steady.
"Then what are they?"
The master reached beside him and retrieved two stones. One was pale, almost translucent—white quartz. The other was black as midnight—obsidian.
He placed them on the mat between them.
"The Light Path," he said, tapping the white stone, "is not about morality. It is about direction."
He gestured upward.
"The Light Path is the path of return. It is the journey back toward the Source. It is balance. Harmony. Clarity. Those who walk it seek to shed the illusions of the material world. They seek to remember what they were before the fall."
His voice grew softer, reverent.
"They align themselves with entities who have not forgotten the Source—ancestors who still hear its call, spirits of nature who embody its cycles, celestial beings who dwell in the higher frequencies of the astral planes."
He paused.
"The Light Path grants wisdom. Longevity. Inner peace. Communion with the infinite."
Teleu stared at the white stone.
"And the Dark Path?"
The master tapped the obsidian.
"The Dark Path," he said slowly, "is the path of deepening. It is the journey further into separation. Into density. Into the material."
He gestured downward.
"Those who walk it do not seek to return to the Source. They seek to master the realms they inhabit. They crave power—not enlightenment. Dominance—not balance. Victory—not wisdom."
His eyes grew darker.
"They align themselves with entities who have embraced the separation—djinn who hunger for worship, spirits born from blood and rage, beings that dwell in the lowest frequencies of the astral planes, feeding on fear, lust, and ambition."
He leaned closer.
"The Dark Path grants power, Teleu. Tremendous, undeniable power. It grants influence over the physical realm. Control over others. Strength that can shatter kingdoms."
Teleu's voice was barely audible. "Then why is it called the dark path?"
The master's expression became grave.
"Because it is a trap."
Silence filled the hut.
The candles flickered violently, as if reacting to the word.
"A trap?" Teleu repeated.
The master nodded slowly.
"The Dark Path offers power, yes. But it is power rooted in the material. It binds you to the flesh. To the ego. To the illusions of grandeur."
He held up the obsidian stone.
"The more you walk it, the more you believe you are ascending. You feel invincible. You see kingdoms bow before you. You command spirits. You reshape reality."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"But you are not ascending, Teleu. You are descending. You are moving further from the Source. Deeper into separation. The entities you pact with do not serve you—they feed on you."
Teleu's breath quickened.
"What do you mean?"
The master set the stone down and steepled his fingers.
"Entities," he said, "are not altruistic. They do not grant pacts out of kindness. They do so because they gain something."
"What do they gain?"
"Energy."
The word hung in the air like smoke.
The master continued, his tone measured and deliberate.
"Entities exist in the astral realms, Teleu. They are not flesh. They do not eat food. They do not drink water. They sustain themselves on energy—vibrations, frequencies, emotions."
He gestured to the candles.
"When you make a pact, you do not simply receive power. You become a conduit. The entity channels its influence through you, and in return, it feeds on the energy generated by your actions."
Teleu's brow furrowed. "What kind of energy?"
"It depends on the entity."
The master's eyes grew distant, as if recalling something ancient.
"Entities of the Light Path feed on frequencies of harmony, reverence, love, gratitude. When you honor your ancestors, they grow stronger. When you offer prayers, they are nourished. When you act with integrity, they thrive."
He paused.
"Entities of the Dark Path feed on frequencies of chaos, fear, rage, lust, ambition. When you kill, they feast. When you dominate, they grow fat. When you spread terror, they are sustained."
His voice grew heavier.
"And the more you feed them, the stronger they become. And the stronger they become, the more they demand."
Teleu's jaw tightened. "They demand sacrifices."
"Yes."
The master leaned back.
"At first, the demands are small. A goat. A rooster. A symbolic offering. But as you advance, the price rises. Blood of enemies. Flesh of the innocent. Parts of your own soul."
His eyes locked onto Teleu's.
"And eventually, the entity consumes you entirely."
Teleu sat in silence, absorbing the words.
Then he asked quietly, "Why would anyone walk the Dark Path, then?"
The master chuckled—a dry, humorless sound.
"Because power is intoxicating, child. Because most men would rather rule for a day than serve for a lifetime. Because the Dark Path offers immediate results, while the Light Path demands patience, discipline, and sacrifice of the ego."
He gestured toward the obsidian stone.
"A warrior on the Dark Path can become invincible in battle. A ruler on the Dark Path can dominate nations with a word. A seer on the Dark Path can bend fate itself."
Then he gestured toward the white stone.
"But a warrior on the Light Path gains something far greater—mastery over himself. A ruler on the Light Path commands not through fear, but through truth. A seer on the Light Path does not bend fate—they align with it."
He paused.
"The Light Path is slower. Harder. It requires you to let go of everything you think you are. But it leads to the Source."
His voice grew soft.
"The Dark Path is faster. Easier. It feeds your ego, your desires, your ambitions. But it leads to oblivion."
Teleu's voice was steady, emotionless.
"Which path am I on?"
The master studied him for a long moment.
"You are on neither, child. You are still standing at the crossroads."
He leaned forward.
"Spirit-children like you are born with the gift of choice. You stand at the third grade of initiation in three routes. You have more freedom than most. You can walk the Light Path. You can walk the Dark Path. You can chose whatever path grants the most power in your eyes."
His eyes gleamed.
"But know this, Teleu: every choice you make from this moment forward will shape your destiny. Every pact. Every ritual. Every action."
He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Choose wisely. For once you descend too far into the dark, there is no return."
Teleu's voice was quiet, almost lost in the flickering candlelight.
"What about the entities? How do I know which ones are light and which are dark?"
The master smiled faintly.
"You will feel it."
He gestured to the air around them.
"Entities of the Light Path carry a resonance of peace, even if they are stern. You feel uplifted in their presence, as though you are being pulled upward. They speak with clarity. They ask for reverence, not submission. They offer guidance, not domination."
He paused.
"Entities of the Dark Path carry a resonance of hunger. You feel heavy in their presence, as though you are sinking. They speak with seduction. They promise everything you desire. They ask for blood, loyalty, and pieces of your soul in return."
His voice grew darker.
"And they always demand more."
Teleu absorbed this in silence.
Then the master continued, his tone shifting into something more instructive.
"In the Light Path, there are many categories of entities. The highest are the Primordial Guardians—beings who dwell closest to the Source. They are nearly impossible to reach unless you are Enlightened or higher. Below them are the Ancestral Titans—ancient forebears who achieved mastery and now guide their descendants from the astral."
He counted on his fingers.
"Then come the Ancestral Elders—your own bloodline's guides. Then Nature Spirits—entities tied to rivers, mountains, forests. Then Solar Entities—beings of light and fire, worshipped in places like Mura, though few there understand their true nature."
He paused.
"All of these entities will aid you if you honor them. But they will not grant you power over others. They will grant you power over yourself."
Teleu's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"And the Dark Path?"
The master's expression darkened.
"In the Dark Path, there are entities born from the lowest frequencies of existence. The Primordial Devourers—ancient beings of pure hunger who dwell in the deepest layers of the Primordial Vein. They grant immense power but demand entire bloodlines as payment."
He continued.
"Below them are the Djinn—spirits of fire and shadow who twist desires into curses. They are clever. Dangerous. They love making pacts with ambitious men."
His voice grew colder.
"Then come the Wraiths—spirits of the murdered, the betrayed, the vengeful. They crave violence. Blood. Suffering. They empower warriors but drive them mad."
He paused.
"And at the lowest level are the Parasites—weak entities that cling to desperate souls, feeding slowly until the host is drained."
His eyes burned into Teleu's.
"All of these will grant you power, Teleu. But they will also own you."
Teleu sat perfectly still, his small hands resting on his knees.
Finally, he spoke.
"What if I walk both paths?"
The master's eyes widened slightly—the first time Teleu had ever seen surprise on his face.
Then the old man smiled.
It was not a warm smile.
"The Gray Path," he murmured. "The most dangerous path of all."
He leaned back.
"There are those who attempt it. Those who believe they can take power from the dark without being consumed. Those who honor their ancestors while also binding djinn. Those who walk the line between ascent and descent."
His voice grew quiet.
"Some succeed. Most do not. The ones who fail are torn apart—literally. Their souls fracture. They go mad. They become vessels for warring entities."
He looked at Teleu with something resembling pity.
"But the ones who succeed..."
He trailed off.
...
The memory began to fade.
The candles dimmed.
The walls dissolved.
Teleu opened his eyes.
He was back in the small house. Back in the Gold Land. Back in the present.
But the master's words echoed in his mind, as clear as the day they were spoken.
Every choice shapes your destiny.
Choose wisely.
For once you descend too far into the dark, there is no return.
Teleu exhaled slowly.
He had made choices already. Choices stained in blood. Choices born from survival.
But he was not lost.
Not yet.
He closed his eyes again and returned to his meditation, feeling his soul stir, feeling the pull of the unseen.
And in the depths of his mind, he wondered:
Which entities would answer his call?