The decision was already established and did not require being repeated to be carried out; the space within the garden did not change in appearance, but the disposition of each one adjusted naturally without the need for explicit coordination, and it was within that same flow that Sebastián descended with Valentina still in his arms, placing her with measured care on the strip of earth next to the path of black stone, among flowers without thorns that did not stand out for their shape or their color, but for the order in which they were maintained, without irregularities or neglect, a stable point that did not seek to soften the scene, but to avoid any unnecessary interference in the girl’s state. Her body remained motionless after being laid down, her breathing constant, her hair divided between the dark brown on the upper part and the white on the lower resting without alteration on the surface, her skin uniform, without visible marks, her physical structure established without any change manifesting at that moment, as if everything that should have occurred had already been fixed before reaching that point.

There was no verbal indication for the others to take position, but the arrangement was established without friction: Selena sat with her back straight, maintaining an upright posture that did not seek to impose itself, but to sustain itself; Virka descended until she was at Valentina’s level and lay down beside her without invading her space, her closeness was neither invasive nor distant, but exact, sufficient to keep her within her field without interfering with her state, while Narka, in his reduced form, positioned himself on the ground within the same perimeter, without occupying the center, but without being outside the structure that was forming. Sebastián was the last to settle, taking a seat in front of them with his legs crossed in a meditation posture that did not seek introspection, but stability, aligning his body without visible tension, as if that act were not preparation to speak, but a necessary condition to sustain what he was going to say.

The circle was defined without needing to be named, all oriented toward the center where Valentina remained, and within that arrangement the silence was held for a few seconds that did not feel empty, but necessary, an interval where Sebastián did not avoid speaking, but organized what he was going to say under a structure that allowed neither error nor excess.

—I am going to speak about what I am allowed to say—. The phrase was direct, without prior warning or added justification, establishing a limit before any content without attempting to soften it.

Selena reacted immediately, her gaze fixed on Sebastián, her posture unchanged, her voice clear and precise. —Allowed by what?—. She did not raise her tone. —You do not limit yourself in that way—. It was not an accusation, it was a direct observation. —What are you leaving out?—.

Virka did not wait, her intervention was immediate, more direct, without detours, her gaze fixed on Sebastián without wavering. —What are you hiding from us?—. She did not add explanation nor need to do so.

Sebastián did not respond immediately, not out of doubt, but out of control; his gaze lifted slightly toward the afternoon sky before returning to them, and when he spoke, his voice remained steady, without unnecessary variation. —Because of the oath—. He did not explain in the first word. —To my Dao path—. This time he did not leave it implicit. —There are things I cannot say—. He did not soften the phrase. —Not because I do not want to—. His gaze held. —Because it is not permitted for me to do so—.

There was no change in his posture nor attempt to justify it. Selena did not look away, processing the information without assuming anything she did not know. —Dao path?—. The phrase held as an unknown concept. —What is that?—. She did not add interpretation. —Why would swearing on that prevent you from speaking?—. Virka did not follow that line, her focus remaining on Sebastián, her voice firm, direct, without embellishment. —Did that change you?—. She did not need to elaborate. —You are not the same—. It was not judgment, it was observation. The silence was not broken by unnecessary extension, and before Sebastián responded, Narka’s voice manifested, deep and steady, without rising nor imposing itself over the others, occupying the space without displacing it. —I will explain it—. He did not add more nor extend himself; the phrase was not constructed as an introduction to a speech, but as a direct closure of that point, establishing that what was asked would not be answered by Sebastián at that moment. No one insisted nor repeated the question. The circle did not dissolve after Narka’s intervention, but it changed in an imperceptible way, not in its physical arrangement, but in the direction of the weight it held, as if what had been opened by the questions did not need to be expanded to remain present, and in that same contained state, Selena’s gaze remained fixed on Narka, not with insistence, but with an attention that did not disperse, while Virka did not move away from Valentina, her posture stable, her breathing controlled, and Sebastián maintained his position without altering the alignment of his body, waiting without interrupting what was no longer his to explain. Narka did not raise his voice nor modify his presence as he began, his deep tone held without unnecessary variation, not as an introduction to a teaching, but as a clarification that did not need to impose itself to be understood. —An oath to the Dao Path is not a promise toward another person—. He did not pause to emphasize it. —It is a declaration that the cultivator integrates into the foundation of his own cultivation—. His gaze did not focus on one alone, but encompassed the space without losing precision. —It is not established outward—. He did not raise his tone. —It is fixed within—.

He did not continue with an extended discourse, his words advanced within the same flow without separating into unnecessary fragments. —The Dao Path of a cultivator is the direction that guides everything he does—. There was no change in his voice. —It defines how he lives, what he understands about the world and where he moves toward—. He did not present it as an abstract concept. —It is not a technique—. He did not reinforce it. —It is coherence—. The word did not need expansion. —Between what he understands, what he decides and what he executes—. The environment did not react to his words, but the way they settled did not depend on that type of response, he continued without stopping in accessory explanations. —When someone swears on his Dao Path that he will not reveal information...— he did not look directly at Sebastián, but the reference was clear, —...he is not making an agreement that he can break without external consequence—. There was no emphasis. —He is integrating that decision as part of what he is—. He did not lengthen the phrase. —If he breaks it...— the pause was not dramatic, —...there is no imposed punishment—. His voice did not change. —There is contradiction—. He did not extend more than necessary, but neither did he leave the idea incomplete. —And that contradiction...— his tone remained steady, —...fractures his stability—. He did not add adjectives. —It generates doubt—. He did not explain further. —Instability of Qi—. He did not change the rhythm. —And what follows...— he did not raise his voice, —...are internal failures—. He did not use terms foreign to what was already being understood. —Because cultivation is not sustained by what one tries to be—. There was no pause. —It is sustained by what one is—. He did not add more. The silence that followed was not heavy, but neither empty; Selena processed the information without altering her posture, her gaze did not drift, and when she spoke, she did so without raising her voice, maintaining the same clarity she had shown from the beginning. —Then that is not only a rule of behavior—. It was not an open question. —It affects everything—. Her gaze did not leave Narka. —His way of living—. She did not stop. —His way of using his power—. She did not add dramatism. —His existence—. Narka did not take long to respond. —Yes—. He did not expand the answer. It was not necessary. Virka did not speak immediately, her attention remained on Valentina for another moment before slightly raising her gaze toward Sebastián, her expression did not change, but her voice was direct when she finally spoke. —Then say what you can—. She did not add demand. She did not need it. —There is no need for more—. Sebastián did not respond immediately, not because he doubted, but because the point from which he had to begin did not allow an abrupt transition; his gaze descended toward Valentina for a moment before rising again, not toward the others, but toward a neutral point where memory did not become disordered by external interference, and when he spoke, his voice did not change, maintaining the same control he had sustained from the beginning. —It began when Narka entered into combat—. He did not explain more in the first sentence. —At that moment...— he did not stop, —...I was still resisting the pressure of the spiritual energy—. He did not add unnecessary details. —Nothing had changed yet—. There was no interruption. —I did not feel a presence—. His voice did not alter. —There was nothing in front of me—. He did not add interpretation. —But I heard a voice—. The phrase was not lengthened. —Not from outside—. He did not raise his tone. —From within—. The air did not change. The environment did not react. But the way he said it did not need external reinforcement. —And the first thing it said...—. He did not complete it immediately. Not out of doubt.

Out of precision, —...it was a single phrase—. His gaze did not shift. —At last I can make contact with myself—. He did not add explanation, he did not interpret the phrase nor say where it came from, but the implication remained held within the space without needing to be developed. The circle did not break. No one spoke. And what had just been said did not need to be repeated to remain present. No one spoke after the last phrase; the circle did not break nor change its arrangement, but the weight within it shifted completely toward Sebastián, not as external pressure, but as an inevitable point where everything that followed depended on his voice, and he did not avoid continuing, his posture remained stable, his breathing controlled, his gaze fixed on a point that did not belong to the garden, as if what he was about to say did not need to be searched for, but contained so as not to overflow beyond what could be expressed. —After that...— he did not raise his tone nor lengthen the phrase unnecessarily, —...I found it—. He did not add introduction nor build the moment, he said it as a fact that did not require preparation. —It presented itself—. He did not describe how. He could not. —The only thing I can say about that presentation...— his voice did not change, —...is that it spoke of a family bond—. He did not hold his gaze on anyone. —I cannot say where that bond comes from—. It was not a dramatic pause, it was a real limitation. —It is not permitted—.

He did not attempt to soften the statement, he did not add context nor offer an alternative, and within that same flow he continued without stopping in what could not be developed. —I tried to put myself on guard—. There was no emphasis on the action nor was it presented as a notable decision.

—Nothing changed—. He did not explain why. —Before I did anything...— his voice remained the same, —...it responded—. He did not imitate the tone nor describe it with unnecessary detail. —It said that if it wanted to harm me...— he did not pause to reinforce it, —...nothing would prevent it—. He did not lengthen the phrase, but neither did he reduce it. —It said it without changing its voice—. He did not raise his tone. —Without intention—. He did not add adjectives. —Without anything—. There was no visible reaction in his posture, but what he described did not need to be dramatized to have weight, he continued without altering the rhythm. —I did not feel a threat—. The phrase did not soften what came before. —I felt...— he did not stop out of doubt, —...that there was no difference—. He did not explain more than necessary. —Between what I could do...— his gaze did not shift, —...and what that represented—. He did not compare directly nor need to. —Even...— the word did not change the tone, —...the manifestation of the Elazria...— he did not add emphasis, —...did not fall within that scale—. He did not extend the comparison nor turn it into a discourse. —It was not the same—. He did not raise his voice nor change his posture, but what was being said did not depend on intensity to establish itself, and he continued without stopping in what had already been made clear. —After that it said...— he did not pause, —...that it was better face to face—. He did not add context. —In that same instant...— his voice did not alter, —...my consciousness ceased to be in my body—. He did not describe the process. —I did not feel the change—. He did not need to. —It simply ceased to be—. The environment did not react to his words, but what followed did not depend on that to sustain itself. —I cannot describe the place I went to—. He did not add further explanation. —Not for lack of words—. His tone did not change. —Because of the oath—. The limitation was established without the need for expansion. —It is not permitted for me to do so—. For the first time since he had begun, Sebastián stopped. It was not a long pause nor a break. It was control. His gaze lowered slightly, not toward anyone in particular, but toward a point where what he could not say remained contained without needing to be forced, and when he spoke again, his voice remained the same, without variation. —I need a moment—. He did not add more in that phrase. —There are parts I can say—. He did not raise his gaze. —But I have to separate them from what I cannot—. It was not an excuse. It was precision. The silence returned to occupy the space without imposing itself, and after that brief interval, he continued without changing his tone. —Before continuing...— he did not make an unnecessary pause, —...it told me something—. He did not add introduction. —That I had to make the oath to my Dao Path—. The phrase did not extend. —If not...— he did not change his expression, —...it was not going to help me save Valentina—. He did not add dramatism. He did not need it. He did not say more. He did not explain what came after. He did not develop what he could not.

The circle remained intact, and within that contained space, what had been said did not close the point, but shifted it to a place where continuing implied more than speaking. The silence that remained after Sebastián’s last words was not broken by the initiative of any of them, not because there was nothing more to say, but because what followed required a continuity that could not be forced without losing precision, and at that point where attention remained focused on him, the brief and contained sound of a device interrupted the flow without altering the environment, not as an intrusion that disordered the scene, but as an external element that demanded response within a system that did not completely stop before what was happening. Selena did not move immediately, but her gaze descended with precision toward the inside of her black trench coat, whose length reached her knees without presenting unnecessary folds, and with a measured gesture she extracted the device without altering her posture, her expression unchanged, her attention divided without dispersing. She did not look at the screen more than necessary before responding, bringing the device to the height of her ear without changing her position within the circle. —Helena—. It was not an extended greeting nor was there a social tone in the way she pronounced the name. The silence that followed was not shared by the others, but it was maintained within the call, and Selena did not intervene in that interval, her expression remaining stable as she received the information without interrupting or asking, as if what was being transmitted to her was already structured so as not to require clarification. A few seconds passed that did not alter the tension within the circle, and when she withdrew the device, there was no unnecessary transition between the call and what she had to communicate. —The team is on the way—. Her voice did not change. —One hundred kilometers away—. She did not add estimates. —They will collect the remains and the vehicle—. She did not explain further. —Helena is coming with them—. The information was integrated without additional emphasis. —She wants to speak with you about the institute—. She did not look at anyone in particular. —To resolve your absence—. There was no unnecessary development after that, the information was established with the same precision with which it had been received, and the circle did not break, but the direction of attention shifted slightly, enough to register the information without completely diverting the focus from what was happening at the center. Virka was the first to respond, her voice direct, without variation, without the need to construct the phrase beyond the essential. —It does not matter—. She did not add immediate context. —The institute does not matter—. Her gaze did not move away from Valentina. —None of that matters until she wakes up—. She did not raise her voice nor repeat the idea. It was enough. The name remained in the air for an instant longer than necessary to sustain itself, and it was at that same point where the change occurred, not as an event visible at first glance, but as a minimal alteration that would not have been perceived outside that contained circle: Valentina’s fingers reacted in an almost imperceptible way, a slight contraction that did not extend to her entire body, but that broke the absolute immobility she had maintained until that moment, her breathing varying just slightly, not in an irregular way, but with a slight tension that did not correspond to the previous state. There was no immediate word. No one spoke. But they all saw it. The attention closed on that point without the need for coordination, the environment ceased to have relevance within that instant, and what had been a stable state ceased to be so without yet transforming into something completely different, remaining suspended at an intermediate point where certainty did not yet exist, but the possibility could no longer be ignored. The circle did not break. But it was no longer the same.

The change did not expand beyond the slight initial movement, but it was enough to alter the stability that had dominated the circle until that moment, and within that point where everyone’s attention had closed over Valentina’s body, Narka was the first to move, not with urgency nor abruptness, but with a contained precision that did not interfere with the environment, his reduced form moving across the ground until positioning himself at the girl’s level, his golden eyes fixing on her without visible variation, as if what he was about to do did not require external preparation, but internal adjustment. He did not extend his hands nor generate a visible manifestation of energy, but his perception directed itself toward what could not be seen by the others, penetrating beyond the physical surface in search of that which sustained her existence. He did not find fragmentation. What he perceived first was stability, a coherence in the spiritual energy that did not correspond with Valentina’s previous state, a greater depth, denser, as if her soul were no longer at the same level at which it had been found, but that recognition did not extend beyond that first contact, because in the same instant in which he tried to advance, his perception ceased to respond. It was not rejection. It was not resistance. It was limit. There was no visible barrier nor energy that pushed or blocked directly, but every attempt to go deeper beyond that point simply did not continue, as if what was within was not available to be observed, not because it was being actively hidden, but because it did not belong to his reach. Narka did not withdraw his gaze immediately, his attention remained fixed on that point where perception stopped without direct explanation, and within that same instant he adjusted his focus, not attempting to force access, but to analyze the nature of what was establishing that limit, and it was there that he recognized it. It was not spiritual energy. It did not correspond to the manifestation of the Elazria. It did not have the same structure. What was present did not show deformation nor imposition. It was something else. Higher. More distant. More stable. The recognition was not immediate in the form of a conclusion, but it did not need to extend much to establish the essential: it was divine power, not in the form of a direct manifestation, not as a presence that imposed itself over the environment, but as a layer that did not belong to that plane, an influence that did not alter Valentina’s state in a visible way, but that defined the limit that he could not cross. There was no hostility, there was no perceptible intention, there was no pressure, and that was what did not fit.

Narka withdrew his gaze from Valentina without changing his posture, his attention shifting toward the others without the need for visible transition, and when he spoke, his voice remained deep and steady, without rising nor being loaded with unnecessary intent. —Her soul is stable—. He did not add adjectives. —More than before—. He did not explain further along that line. —But I cannot see beyond—. He did not attempt to soften the statement. He did not pause to dramatize what followed. —There is something that covers it—. He did not raise his voice. —It is not spiritual energy—. His gaze did not shift. —It is not that of the Elazria—. He did not need to compare further. —It is divine power—. He did not add extensive explanation nor develop it, but neither did he leave it ambiguous. —The limit is not something I can cross—. The silence that followed was not immediate, but neither did it extend more than necessary; the information settled within the circle without needing to be repeated, and Sebastián did not react with abrupt movement nor with a visible change in his posture, he only exhaled in a controlled manner, a breath that did not release tension, but reorganized it without allowing it to overflow. —I have an idea of what may be happening—. He did not raise his voice. —But I cannot say it—. He did not add more nor develop it; the limitation held without additional explanation. Virka reacted at that same instant, her body rising without slow transition, the movement direct, without visible preparation, her gaze fixed on Valentina before shifting toward Sebastián, her voice rising just enough to break the silence without losing control. —Why?—. She did not add context. —Why can’t they leave her alone?—. Her jaw tensed, but she did not continue into a discourse; the phrase remained there, charged, direct, without need for expansion.

Sebastián did not move, his posture did not change, but his response was not delayed. —Because we are weak—. He did not raise his tone nor soften the phrase. —That is all—. He did not explain further in the first line. —If we do not want it to happen again...— his gaze did not shift, —...we have to become stronger—. It was not motivation nor comfort, it was a direct statement. —There is no other way—. He did not add more nor change his posture. Virka did not respond immediately, her breathing held for an instant before she clenched her teeth with enough force to mark the tension without turning it into sound, and without saying anything else she descended again, lying once more beside Valentina, her gaze fixed on her, her expression hardened, not out of rejection of what had been said, but from the acceptance of something she could not deny. Selena did not intervene immediately, her breathing adjusted slightly, not irregular, but more measured, as if the control she maintained needed to reaffirm itself before expressing, and when she spoke, her voice did not tremble, but it was not completely neutral. —That...— she did not raise her tone, —...is not something a human can ignore—. She did not add dramatism. —Knowing that there is divine power acting so close...— she did not finish the phrase in an open way, but she did not need to for the implication to remain clear. Narka did not respond with an extended construction, his voice remained the same, without variation. —It does not matter what type of being it is—. He did not make an unnecessary pause. —If it is inferior to a god...— he did not raise his voice, —...it can only bow its head—. He did not add more. The circle did not break, but what had been established could no longer be reduced. The change did not manifest in the environment, but in the scale of what they were facing, and at that same point, without visible transition, the scene ceased to sustain itself in that space. Valentina opened her eyes, not in the garden nor within the circle; she was standing, her body stable, but her surroundings did not correspond to any place she could recognize, an expanse covered by golden mist that did not move with the air, but remained suspended without visible origin, crossed by beams of light that did not descend from a concrete point, but seemed to arise from the very structure of the space, similar to sunlight, but without temperature, without defined direction, without projected shadow. There was no irregular ground, there was no reference, there was no presence, only that place. Valentina did not speak, she did not understand where she was, but she did not remain motionless: her gaze moved, searching.

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END OF Chapter 87

The path continues...

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