"The vision painted by Miss Ling's words were ill preparation," Xuan Shi said. He reached out, resting a gauntlet clad hand on the pale grey trunks of the trees that made up the labyrinth, peering up at the dark crowded canopy that arched overhead.
Ling Qi glanced back past the curled and twisted portal formed by the pale trees, separating the melancholy labyrinth from the rosy light of the winter evening outside. "Unless you wanted me to compose a song, I'm not sure I could have really prepared you."
"Can't say I missed the place," Sixiang murmured, Ling Qi felt their consciousness drawing back from her senses.
The sadness of this place was a physical weight, heavy like a thick blanket soaked through by cold water, and the tendrils of fog that played about her ankles seemed to drag at her feet with every step. "Even if I had, you'd still have come though, I think," she hummed.
"Miss Ling's intuition is accurate," Xuan Shi said, glancing to the left and right, down the brush choked and narrow halls. "Where should our steps lead?"
Ling Qi let her awareness spread beyond her eyes, carried on glittering motes of silver. "To the left, the path has shifted, but I can still trace the path."
He nodded, letting his hand drop back to his side as he turned to follow. His heavy footsteps were muted here, and the jingling of the rings on his staff did not echo at all, despite the environment. They walked in silence for a time, weight of the atmosphere making the idea of the light conversation that had come before seem disrespectful.
"Can I ask what you're planning to speak with the sword about," Ling Qi said, keeping her voice quiet as the visions of her soaring motes flashed behind her eyes, tracing their path further inside, noting the places where space became strange, and veils of illusion rippled.
Xuan Shi squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, following a step behind. "How frivolous, some thoughts seem here. Yet, queries remain. I wish to know the Elder Lang's purpose in authorship. I wish to know how much of his tales have basis in the world of flesh and earth."
Ling Qi cocked her head to the side. Xuan Shi had cut himself off at the end, a thought unfinished. "If there is a personal matter, I can leave," she offered.
"...No," Xuan Shi said. "This one has reason to inquire after the existence of the Storm folk and their witches, who appeared in the first two volumes, that is all."
Ling Qi nodded. If he didn't want to reveal that reason, it was his prerogative. They did not speak much more as they made their way through the labyrinth of melancholy and despair that shrouded the central gravesite. Soon enough, they came to the mist shrouded gate that cut it off from all else.
As Xuan Shi began to step toward the mist, he paused, raising a hand to his temple, his expression growing concerned.
"Are you alright?" Ling Qi asked?
"This one is well. Mine companion is ill affected by this place," Xuan Shi said. "Apologies friend, but this one must speak with the Elder. Please endure."
Ling Qi frowned in concern, his later words were clearly for his spirit. Ling Qi turned her own attention inwards. 'Sixiang will you be okay here?'
"I'm fine worrywort. Guess the cousin he picked up is more affected by this sort of thing though," Sixiang sent back.
Ling Qi turned her attention outward again, just in time to see Xuan Shi stepping through the gate. She shook her head, it would be fine probably. Lifting her gown a little, she stepped over the bramble choked entrance and followed him.
The innermost circle of trees looked just the same as it had at her last visit. The depression in the earth, the field of cut bones, the vague silhouette of an old man visible in the osseous sediment. And of course, the rusted and broken sword, jutting from the earth.
Xuan Shi had advanced several steps ahead of her already. She could not see his expression as he stood on the edge where the earth swept down into the depression.
"Visitors again, so very soon," the coarse whisper of rusted metal raised the hairs on her neck. "The Sect is in peril, if He's attention has wandered so much."
Ling Qi remained silent at the doorway, firm in her decision to leave this to Xuan Shi.
"Elder, war embroils the south, yet the Sect stands strong, all of Emerald Seas musters at its side," Xuan Shi said, bowing his head deeply. "This humble disciple requests Elder's instruction."
There was a rasping sound, like a jagged edge being dragged over rock, and so bitter it was that she tasted the salt of tears in her mouth. It took her too long to realize that it had been laughter.
"Fool child, your soul is not made for cutting, You have not even tried to sharpen it. Do not dash such wisdom now. That staff in thy hand is a superior thing," the blade scoffed, sending a ripple of contempt through the air that saw Xuan Shi sway backward as if struck.
"This one is no swordsman, nor does this one seek such mastery," Xuan Shi said, his head remaining bowed as a student who was facing a master. "Please, this one wishes to know what inspired the tales thy Master wrote."
There was a deep silence in the wake of his words as the thrumming of blade planted in the graveyard ceased. Ling Qi remained still, holding her breath.
"...Eh?" the old item spirit grunted, breaking the silence.
"The Voyages of Yu Long, what inspiration transformed sword saint to author? Why write such tales?" Xuan Shi asked again.
Ling Qi saw the air in his hands shimmer as a book appeared there, worn and dog eared, its colorful cover still stood out in the gloom. A painting depicting a laughing man in red standing on the prow of a golden ship.
"Those childish things still exist?" spoke the sword, and Xuan Shi flinched visibly.
"Under study, this one has determined that Sect Head Yuan saw to a small distribution, under a name of the pen," Xuan Shi said, not raising his head.
"Sentimental fool," whispered the sword. "Why do you care for such things, disciple? Is it not past time to put such things away?"
Ling Qi's heart sank a little. This seemed to be going worse than she had imagined.
"No."
She looked up to see Xuan Shi raising his head.
"Perhaps as a sword, thou does not respect accomplishments off the sea of battle, but all the same they are not to be dismissed. The venerable Elder created something great," Xuan Shi said firmly.It was only from close attention and experience that Ling Qi heard the tremor of frustration and fear in his voice. "It is perhaps nothing to you, but this disciple would know what was in his mind in the writing."
The wind picked up, the whisper of a hundred dying voices, and Ling Qi felt an electric tingle of alarm travel up her spine as the light in the graveyard grove further dimmed.
"Regret, shame, despair," the sword's voice cut the air, and Ling Qi saw sparks as Xuan Shi took a step back, gauges appearing in the brim of his hat. "For a life wasted and withered by blood. Does this please you disciple?"
Xuan Shi flinched and looked as if he were going to speak, only to hesitate, listening to an unheard voice.
"Do not whisper and sneak near me, night thing," again the sound of grinding metal, like an imperious snort ground through the air, and Ling Qi's eyes flew open wide as she felt a change in the air.
She clutched her stomach, letting out a wheeze as it rippled through her like a hard strike to the gut. Behind her she heard a yelp and a thump. Through watering eyes, she looked back to Sixiang blinking up at the dark canopy as they lay in the grass.
"Ouch, crotchety old bastard," Sixiang said, wincing as they rolled to their feet. They were cut off, Ling Qi realized, wholly cut off from the liminal realm.
She heard a pained hiss and turned back toward Xuan Shi to see a crouching figure rising from the grass beside him. It was tall and gangly, long and thin limbs sticking out in its crouched pose. Around its shoulders were what she took at first for a cloak but swiftly realized were pale wings spotted with eyelike marks, a ruff of white fur concealed the figure's neck. Their face resembled Sixiang's, with glittering black eyes but with shifting hair of white and black.
She heard an intake of breath from her side and Sixiang spoke. "Oh, you asshole."
Ling Qi blinked at the uncharacteristic vulgarity as Xuan Shi turned toward his own dream muse. "Kongyou, have you come to harm?" he asked.
Ling Qi's eyes narrowed as she focused, penetrating the miasma like apathy and despair that filled the grave to feel the muse's aura. Her memory flashed back to the underground expedition, where they had been lost in the dream, and she injured and confined by Sixiang.She remembered the giggling voice who had nearly convinced her to hurt herself further by trying to fight despite her injury.
Kongyou gave her a helpless and not at all guilty grin as if to say 'oops'. "I'm fine Shi, don't you worry about me."
"Xuan Shi, that thing is a nightmare spirit," Ling Qi hissed.
He blinked at her. "This one knows that."
"They tried to trick Ling Qi into getting herself killed back in the dream," Sixiang hissed, staring at their fellow muse with intense dislike.
Kongyou put a finger to their lip, cocking their head to the side cutely. "Ehhh? I was just trying to help."
"As a spirit of the deeper dream, they do not understand mortals well," Xuan Shi said, wincing.
"But Shi is a great instructor. I'm getting better all the time," the nightmare said, displaying a grin full of razor edged teeth.
"Xuan Shi-" Ling Qi began incredulously
"Bicker elsewhere," the powerful grinding voice of the sword. "Boy, are you still dissatisfied with my answer?"
Xuan Shi grimaced, and Kongyou patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about me! I'll just go stand with my cousin and their friend eh?"
Ling Qi glared at the muse as they ambled over. Their feet were bare, and underneath their cloak of wings they seemed to wear only a nearly skintight pair of black pants that glittered like the night sky. Their narrow but well defined chest was wholly bare, but was almost dollike in its lack of hair or features.
The muse smiled at her. "Hey, totally sorry about before. I'm real sorry I almost hurt you," they said quietly, tittering under their breath.
"Like hell you are," Sixiang grumbled back.
Ahead of them, Xuan Shi squared his shoulders as he prepared to speak again. "Honored Elder, this one will not be driven off by such tactics. Although Elder has no obligation to speak. This one would have more than vague platitude from thee."
"Hmph, bold child," the sword said. "But foolish. You know what that thing is yet harbor it all the same."
"Dreams change," Xuan Shi said. "Nature is not the whole of things. Thy master knew this, and wrote it."
"Stories are stories," grunted the sword. "He was wrong. You are a fool. You cannot change your nature once your path has begun."
Ling Qi glanced from the grinning nightmare to Xuan Shi.
"It feels nice to be believed in," Kongyou drawled, clasping their hands. They glanced to Ling Qi and Sixiang with a smirk. "Isn't friendship grand?"
"What do you think you're up too?" Sixiang hissed, glaring at Kongyou over Ling Qi's shoulder.
"Same thing as you cuz. Enjoying my human," Kongyou said flippantly.
[] Interrogate the spirit. Quietly so as not to interrupt Xuan Shi's conversation. Kongyou is obviously up to no good, you need to figure out what they're up to.
[] Don't let the nightmare bait you into conversation. Shush both Sixiang and Kongyou, and refuse to engage. Xuan Shi needs to focus on his conversation.