Page 20 of Elemental Becoming

I laugh out loud, pressing a hand to my mouth, unable to contain the swell in my chest.

As my eyes dart around the room, my gaze catches on a tapestry hanging on the far wall, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling.

It’s a map of Lumoria.

I step closer. The woven fabric is rich with history, every thread telling a story—a reflection of the world as it was meant to be. The four great clans, each marked in their colors—Earth in deep green, Air in silver-white, Water in blue, and Fire in crimson gold.

Their lands are etched across the weave like veins of power stretching through the realm. Interlocking. Interdependent. A world built on balance and unity.

And though the Fire Clan resides in the south, it still anchors the rest of the realm with the weight of purpose, woven not as conquerors, but as protectors.

My thoughts travel back to the records kept by the Shadow Clan during the Shadow Wars. I wonder what else Valen is uncovering as he excavates the truth from that history.

The myth we’ve all been told. Thetruthwe all chose to believe.

I let my fingers hover just above the fabric, tracing the lands stitched into history. I’ve seen maps of Lumoria before—we studied the clans and their histories in school. The lessons come back to me as my eyes sweep over the expansive fabric.

But for the first time, I find myself wondering if the tapestry tells the whole story—or only the one the Fire Clan wanted remembered.

The Fire Clan’s lands blaze across the south, their deep reds and golds dominating the weave. The seat of power lies in these fortresses, volcanic ridges, and sprawling cities. It is the heart of the realm.

To the west, the Water Clan’s waters glisten in dark navy and turquoise; their rivers twist and flow into the sea, their portsstitched in looping patterns, built for trade and movement.

To the east, the Air Clan’s lands rise in soft grays and pale blues, vast and open, their cliffs reaching toward the sky. Their capital is built into a mountain.

And to the north, the Earth Clan’s forests stretch in deep greens and browns, their land carved with fields and valleys, their mountains holding the realm together like an unshaken foundation. My clan.

I step closer, letting my fingers pass over the tapestry’s surface. The fabric is dense, textured, the threads woven so tightly that they feel like the land itself—rugged in the mountains, smooth where the rivers have been stitched in shimmering silver.

Each region is marked, labeled, their borders outlined with careful precision.

I exhale.

Fire.

Water.

Air.

Earth.

The same four woven through my magics. The same Elements I carry inside me.

In school, we were taught the realm had once been divided—each clan isolated, fighting over land and resources.

But the tapestry shows them united—stitched together in gold and crimson thread. A realm restored after the Shadow Wars. No more fractures. No more fighting.

But as my fingers move across the weave, something inside me tightens.

It’s all here.

And yet . . . it isn’t.

The image is whole, but it doesn’t feel complete.

Like a song missing a final note.

A truth edited for display.