The poet approached his home, only to find a pale, white-haired girl standing there—a girl who looked no older than sixteen, but appearances in this world were deceptive.
Before he could ask, she smiled brightly and said,
"Hello, Poet. I'm Lyne. My father sent me here to learn about the world you see."
The poet's mind raced. Why would anyone come here? This world was supposed to be empty. Yet, here she was.
He exhaled softly. "And why would you think I'm the one to teach you?"
Lyne's eyes flickered with quiet determination. "I don't know much. Just that I'm supposed to understand your 'Divine Vision.'"
The poet snorted. "Your father sounds like he's full of strange ideas. Why would I, a nobody wandering an empty world, be chosen for something so important?"
Her gaze hardened. "If you doubt me, would you doubt the voice of a god?"
Before he could reply, the air trembled. A radiant light filled the sky, so bright it made even the whiteness of the world seem dull in comparison.
The 6th Primordial Celestial has stepped foot on the blank world.
The voice of the celestial echoed, calm but fierce:
"You were not chosen by me, Poet. Fate has marked you. Only you are worthy to walk with my daughter and satisfy her endless curiosity."
And then, the light vanished as suddenly as it came.
The poet stared at Lyne, weighing the gravity of what just happened. Primordial celestials were not to be taken lightly.
He finally said, "Fine. But don't expect me to welcome company. And if you're useless on this path, you will be discarded."
Lyne's eyes shone with resolve. "I won't be useless. I'll prove it to you."
He looked at her with a faint smirk. "Then answer me this: When lightning strikes, does the tree still stand?"
Without hesitation, she replied, "The tree falls, but its roots remain untouched—waiting to rise again."
The poet nodded slowly. "Not a bad answer. You pass. But don't forget—this path is unforgiving."
Lyne smiled. "I'm ready."
And so, Lyne joined the poet on his perilous journey.