Chapter 26: The Echo of the Void

Three days pass in the abandoned shrine. Hitane's strength returns slowly. She can walk around the perimeter now, though she tires easily. Minaki practices her focus, trying to sense the emotions of the birds, the deer, anything alive in the woods.

I practice the tear.

I go deep into the woods, away from the girls. I stand in front of a thick oak tree. I close my eyes. I feel the space between me and the tree. I feel the static.

Usually, I calm it. I drive my anchor down and lock it.

Now, I try to do what I did at the inn. I try to agitate it.

I grab the static in my mind and I pull. I try to rip the distance apart.

It is harder than it was in the moment of panic. My mind resists. It feels wrong, like trying to bend my knee backward. It goes against the nature of my gift. I am supposed to stabilize, not destroy.

But I persist. I focus on the image of the gray suit. The gun. The threat to my family.

The rage builds. The static spikes.

Rip.

A sound like tearing canvas fills the air. A thin, black line appears on the bark of the oak tree. It is not a cut. It is a line where the wood simply ceases to exist.

I gasp and let go. The line vanishes, leaving a deep, smooth groove in the bark.

I stare at it. I did it. I controlled it.

But the cost is immediate. A wave of nausea hits me. My vision blurs. I fall to my knees, retching dryly.

"Juiro!"

Minaki is there, running through the trees. She must have felt my distress. She drops beside me, her hands on my shoulders.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I am practicing," I gasp. "The tear."

She looks at the tree. She sees the impossible groove. She looks back at me, her eyes full of fear.

"It feels... wrong," she whispers. "It feels like... death. When you do that... the forest screams. It feels like you are wounding the world."

"I have to learn," I say, wiping my mouth. "It is the only weapon I have that can stop them."

"It hurts you," she says, touching my temple. "I can feel your pain. It is like a spike in your brain."

"I can take it," I say.

"You should not have to," she says fiercely. She pulls me into a hug. She smells of rain and pine and sweat. It is the most grounding smell in the world.

"We will find another way," she whispers into my neck. "We do not have to destroy the world to save ourselves."

I hold her. I want to believe her. But I remember the void swallowing the Cleaner's beam. I remember the cold efficiency of the machine.

"Maybe," I say. "But until then, I will be the one who bleeds."