Threads Of Destiny(Eastern Fantasy, Sequel to Forge of Destiny)

Molten gold glimmered, glinting under the light of the lantern in the craftswoman's workshop. The gleaming metal rippled, churning, small impurities slowly emerging, clattering and spattering down onto the iron tray affixed to the top of the workbench. Bits of stone and other metals mostly, but there was something more down in the center, it felt hollow and cold, a sucking emptiness…

"Ah, the young mistress has a volatile one. Excellent work, but allow me to complete this step."

Gu Yanmei looked up, hands trembling a little with the exertion of holding the heat field, as her teacher reached over her head, and grasped her construct, taking control with the same ease that Yanmei breathed. From inside the sphere of molten metal, a faint airy wail whispered, a pale green flame licked out of a gap.

It was snuffed out, extinguished by a firm breath and a downward press of the old woman's hands.

The Gu clan's most senior jeweler squinted her eyes at the metal and withdrew her burn scarred and pockmarked hands. "There we are, take it back young Mistress."

Gu Yanmei studied her teacher's wrinkled face, some two hundred years old, she looked far older with sun baked white hair and a dark wrinkled face. She was curious what would make a cultivator of the third realm keep such a face. Though Mother had taught her not to ask such questions.

It was very undignified to pry into a servant's private affairs without cause. And she was twelve years old now, which meant she had to be a proper lady. "What was that dead flame teacher?" she asked curiously.

She carefully wound her own qi back into the melting construct. Careful one little thread of flame at a time, until it once again thrummed with her breath. All that was left was the shaping now. Heat transformed into pressure, the rough orb stretched into a molten tendril and began to feed into the casting mold for an ingot.

"Just that, just that. Gold is not the most useful metal, it does not conduct qi well or at all when pure, but this means that it sometimes traps things inside it," The old woman said."The old lords had gold enough to build palaces and roads, for every man and woman to wear beautiful trinkets, and the phoenixes loved its shine. When it melted away under the sun, it took much of death under the earth with it. When we dig it back up, we must be careful of the little wisps of Twilight sometimes trapped inside."

Gu Yanmei hummed thoughtfully. Gold was beautiful. She could understand why her ancestors cherished it. Its pure gleam was something she could watch for hours.

It was a shame that everyone could not enjoy it anymore.
"Truly?" Gu Yanmei asked with furrowed brows, looking into the ancient stacks of the Gu clan's archives the oldest writings of their ancestors shelved neatly on blackened iron. Small sparks drifted throughout, like motes of dust, rising from rustling pages anew as old ones flickered out. It smelled like dust, and burning metal, like regret, and graves.

Her Father nodded absently, looking into the sullen light of the archives himself. "It is so, the tale of the Gu is more complex than what we say to outsiders. But, daughter, your inclination and talent makes you more suited than most.

She nodded slowly, hands folded in the sleeves of her gown, poised as Mother had always taught her, even here alone with her own Father. She would be turning fourteen this year, and she had achieved the second realm already. She had not made any particular effort toward it. The raw cultivation had simply been necessary to advance her arts.

She was not unaware of the whispers around her though.

"...It seems disrespectful. There is nothing to be ashamed of, but if our ancestors themselves chose to hide their origins…" Gu Yanmei said quietly, stepping forward, she brushed her hand along the spine of a worn manual, feeling the sense of meticulous control, like curving wires woven into a complex pattern which thrummed under the pages.

"The clans of that era would not respect those who were not warriors, such was the Golden Fields in the wake of cataclysm," Father said, stepping past her deeper into the stacks himself. "And so it is, A lord who cannot be seen to wield his sword cannot make the people feel safe, nor bring certainty to his vassals."

Gu Yanmei frowned. Father was not incorrect. The world they lived in was unkind. Even when days were good, the dead gnawed at their walls and cellars. The price of life in the Golden Fields was vigilance and valor. This was the cost of the strength and the wealth they wrested from the unquiet sands.

But she wondered if his words were incomplete.

She did not think a sword and a banner were truly enough.

Gold was the color of their clan, the metal cherished by their ancestors. One did not make a sword from gold. Could not, really.

Was it truly the sword which made those who lived at their feet feel safe, or was the sword merely a symbol.

"What even is a sword, in the hand of a master Cultivator?"

She only realized she had asked the question aloud when father tilted his head. "Ah, my daughter, you will find simple questions such as that can be the seeds which carry one to the peak, or the heart devil which ends your ascent. You have always been a thoughtful girl. It is not bad to ponder such things even before your cultivation needs deeper thoughts."

"My own answer is that a sword is a tool of glory. It is a channel by which the raging power of flame may be directed and wielded with precision. A sword is a tool of control, and an edge on which one may test themself."

"I see, thank you Father," Gu Yanmei said, sliding the volume she had touched from the shelves. It was a manual upon the purification and alloying of metals through toolless methods. "...I do not know if that can be my answer."

"It should not be, my own answer can be but a tool to polish your own. Such is cultivation," Father said. "You have free access to this archive now, these rooms. The pursuit of beauty is its own reward, as He the Glorious said. These arts too are the heritage of the Lu."

Were they though? Gu Yanmei wondered. The Lu were so long dead, their bones buried deeper than any gold. The flames of the phoenix were extinguished, their cries silent only the raucous cries of crows and their smoldering earthly flames remained.

Father spoke the words of He the Glorious, and yet, the arts of crafting beauty were left to servants, and now, she supposed, his daughter.

"I will use them well, Father. Am I still going to the Argent Peak Sect, come next year?"

"You are, it will be good for us to show our banners at the favored Sect of our lords," Father said. "So ensure you are studious and determine which texts you most wish to take with you. I will commission the engraving of a jade slip for your use. I will inform your other tutors you are exempted from lessons."

"Yes, Father," Yanmei said, turning back to the stacks. There was a slight skip in her step despite her attempt at poise. She was grateful for Mother's many lessons, but focusing on her arts, on the flowing strands of qi she could now wield and weave… It was much more satisfying.

And here she could find answers to the meaning of gold and beauty.