Rise of the Sage
Chapter 1
From She Who Was were the bones of firmament were forged
From which came stability of form.
From the breath of He Who Was, came motion and time
From which came disparity and growth.
All the world forged for the sake of their children.
The final gift and responsibility.
It is said that the years of the first age were beyond counting. From the days that the Last Children awoke in wooded hollow and mountain glen, they were hunted, and none recorded their suffering.
Yet from our Father, we were granted cunning, and from our Mother, steadfastness. In that darkness, the secret of cultivation was discovered. That by consuming the bones of our Mother and the breath of our Father, strength to stand against our hunters could be gained.
Let nothing further be said of that time.
The second age was born with the dilution of blood. Humans made pacts with beasts, and our bloodlines were mingled with dragons. Kingdoms rose and fell, and man warred with man, for the first time unshackled by fear.
The Eight Serpent Queens of One Thousand Lakes who warred with the Sunflower Demons of the West
The Merry Kings of Canyon and River, forever raiding the Golden Fields of the Sun
The Secret Lords of Hill and Tree, tall and horned, disdainful of those who shared not their bloodlines.
The Captain Kings of the northern shores, living more on water than land.
These tribes and more stood astride the world, declaring their greatness to the skies, but we shall not speak of them, not yet.
Instead, let our attention come to the Celestial Peaks. Pillars of the World, and Mount Tai, the greatest of mountains, higher than the clouds, scraping the heavens. Land of Dragons.
Here the domain of beasts had never ended. Mighty demons ruled over their mountains and terrible spirits haunted the vales, and the proud and untouchable Dragons of Heaven ruled uncaring over all. Here there were no kings, only petty chieftains paying tribute to inhuman lords.
In one tribe, whose name is long since lost, there a child was one day born to the first wife of the tribes chieftain. On that day, great chaos came, the moon came to cover the sun, transforming darkness into day. The demons of the mountain raged and reveled, shaking the firmament. The people, seeing this as sign of ill omen, came to the chief, and demanded that the child be cast out, lest his ill fortune infect the tribe.
The chieftain did not resist this as he might have. In the chaos of the inverted day, his beloved wife had died, and in his heart he blamed the child who had weakened her so. The child was taken to the priests to be anointed with oils and paint, while prayers were said over him, dedicating his life to the spirits. The child was then placed in a basket of woven twigs. Taken far from the tribes village by their fastest climber, he was placed among the highest branches of the tallest tree, which stood closest to the peak, an offering to the gods of the mountains.
It happened, that at this time, a conflict had occurred in the court of the Dragon Patriarch. His second son had offered him great offense, though the particulars of the matter remain unknown. The young dragon was struck down for his temerity and his mother, Tianjing had raged at the punishment, injuring several others among the court. The Patriarch was merciful however and, still bearing some affection for Tianjing, merely exiled her for eight and hundred years.
Thus was it that Tianjing, whose white scales shone like the finest jade, whose claws were as spears and whose breath was the storm, descended upon the base earth from the palaces of the dragons among the highest clouds.
Still furious, she settled on the mountain peaks, lightning striking all about in response to her rage. Demons and spirits fled her presence, and trees were reduced to splinters. There was only one presence who did not flee her.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was the child, wailing as the wind rose around him and thunder rumbled in the sky. Tianjing heard his cries, for a dragons senses are far greater than a mans, but in her heart, there was no pity. Lightning struck the child to silence his wails.
Yet his cries were not silenced. Though the basket was reduced to ash, though the tree was splintered. The child lived, lightning playing over his milk white skin and burned in his eyes.
This in truth, drew the dragons attention, for her bolts were powerful, and even one of her kind would be injured by her wrath. She moved to examine the child, turning him over in her claws.
Though frail of body, the child was mighty in spirit. To Tianjing, whose eyes could see beyond base material, she could see something of great interest. The child had not resisted her lightning, for his flesh was as soft as any humans. Rather, he had refined it. Despite his youth the child's core and channels were open and clear, pure beyond any she had seen.
The child seemed to hold no fear either, held in the vast claws of a dragon, he reached up, grasping at the silver beard which grew from her chin, gurgling happily as a child well fed is want to do.
If you wish to discover what occurred when the Dragon Matriarch turned her attention to the child, please continue to the next installment.
