The Vortex

He crashed into a body of water, and its cold ripped his lungs of breath. His entire being reared in panic as he thrashed the water screaming without air for sound.

His training kicked in, as his conditioning assumed the reigns, scanning his body, recognizing he was okay, calming the fright to focus, disassociating from the experience to witness the scene- he was okay, just cold. He looked around calling forth all his awareness to poise himself again, and was surprised to find in this room he could see. Soft light trickled through the underground cavern, diluted as it reflected through the rocks, giving the space a dim glow, just bright enough to make out its forms- black crystal stacks jutting out in pillars into the space.

He was in a pool of water surrounding a mound about twenty feet from him. He swam to it and pulled himself upon its shore shivering, curling into a ball to catch his breath, and regain presence. The space was silent, he could no longer hear the thunder falling from outside. His heart was barraging the bones within his chest, and for some reason, when he felt it, he began to cry. He was struck by its willingness, amidst it all, to continue to try.

The cry was soft and released something in him like a deer may shake off trauma after being hit by a car and continue on. He felt raw, tender, but okay. He brought his hand to the back of his neck expecting to touch puss and blood, but his skin was fine. The silence was pure. His heart slowed, and as he breathed he eased his body from its shivering. He took another breath and fell deeper into the silence around him. He felt comforted by the black rock, cradled in the womb of its shadows.

Story breathed deep. His first breaths calming him, centering him. Then deeper, Story felt himself release a layer of fear which lived in him a layer beneath the encounter with the storm. It was a subtle layer of his emotional body, an anxiety that had been with him since his crash.

Another breath, Story felt himself going inward, removing a layer of constrictive clothing coiling around his spine. This one had been with him long before X. Another breath, another layer. Again. Again.

The room's silence was immense, and Story sensed a new presence of receptivity within himself allowing him to feel all of it. He'd stumbled into a Meditative state similar to the one he'd learned with the Monks studying in the Mountains of Lytharius.