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

[ElizatronicWarfa]

Introductions

Hu Baojun coughed roughly into his handkerchief at the top of the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister as his body rebelled. His lungs failed him more often these days, and the voyage from Jingshan had strained them. Even now, halfway up the island's stony peak, the sea air drove spikes into his chest and what was left of his hair threatened to fly away in the breeze. There was a soft pressure on his shoulder, and reflexively he jerked it such that the hand slid off.

"Enough, woman. I am not so frail that I must be coddled. Let us reach this meeting on time."

Pangguan said nothing, and fell in a step behind as he crested the stairs. They shuffled along a wide stone balcony that had been carved from the mountain itself, overlooking a tall and unpleasant drop down towards the rocky shore. A pair of lacquered wooden doors swung inwards as they approached, opening into a more conventional indoor hallway of polished wood and elegant paper screens. Every dozen meters the corridor branched off in both directions, creating the impression of aisles, and here and there were wooden cabinets bearing ancient clay tablets, jagged stones, or aged scraps of cloth.

Just as he was scrutinising the faded colours on one of the latter, the sound of footsteps jerked Baojun's attention away. A young woman was approaching him with the unmistakable air of nobility. She wore an understated yet expensive silk dress in muted blues, edged with embroidered silver thread that appeared to shimmer at odds with its' movement. It had likely cost more than he could make in years, and clearly indicated her status next to his plain traveling clothes and its' coarse, rugged stitching. Her dark hair was richly ornamented, her pale skin was flawless, and... something about her eyes was familiar. Baojun bowed as low as his body would allow him, waving one hand behind him to urge Pangguan to do the same.

"My lady. I am Hu Baojun, a humble weaver of Jiashan. This is my wife, De Pangguan. We are both honoured by your presence in this Great Sect of the Empire."

There was a long moment of silence, during which Baojun tried to keep himself from trembling in his hunched pose. He was used to lords playing this game.

"...Rise."

The woman was tall and regal, not bent by age, and she looked down at him with a glacial expression. A wall slid open, revealing a meeting room with one central table and pairs of cushion seats on either side. The woman from the Sect wordlessly indicated for them to enter as she walked in, taking the lead according to her station - but her irregular lack of introduction raised the hairs on Baojun's neck. The cushions were also fine silk, embroidered lavishly with the Sect's heraldry and colours, and sitting on one felt almost sacrilegious.

Across the small table, the sect Lady watched them without saying anything. Pangguan quietly sat on the cushion to his right as she always did, peering at the stranger curiously, so it fell to him to break the silence with another deep bow.

"Honoured madam, thank you for your hospitality. We arrived this morning from the mainland, after receiving a letter from the Sect asking us to attend. Where is our-"

Hu Baojun suddenly coughed, his lungs momentarily spasming as he had attempted to form the next word. The interruption threw him off-balance, but he tried to re-order his thoughts. There was a faint smell of damp earth that vanished with the next breath, and he grunted deeply to press his chest back into service while fumbling in his robe for a handkerchief.

"Hh-hrm. Please excuse me. Where is our child? We received a letter from the Sect asking us to meet-"

Again, Hu Baojun was stopped by his own body refusing to produce a word. He finally withdrew a handkerchief, and cleared his chest again to try and regain control over his speech. He felt stifled, but cold, like he was buried in wet dark earth. Something was wrong. He shrugged off Pangguan's tugging on his sleeve. The woman from the sect had not moved, and watched him silently.

"My apologies again - the journey has not been kind to this old man. As I was saying, we received a letter asking us to meet our child here today. What is going on? We have not received a letter from them for over a year. Have they caused trouble? If it's about those bloody dresses that Hu-"

---

Dieshu allowed a very small part of herself to feel good about the way her father's face lit up with panic when she closed his lips and sealed them shut. The rest of her was panicking, but she had not gotten this far to stop now.

"You will not address me by that name any longer. Is that understood?"

Horrified, enraged realisation began to dawn on his piggish face. It went red, then white, as the reality of his situation sunk in.

"You now know exactly who I am. This is an incontrovertible fact. You will not change it any more than change this mountain. This is the first thing you will accept."

She snapped a hand out over the table, for the theatre of it more than anything, moving the scroll out of her storage band and into it.

"This is an imperial baronial writ, awarded to me three weeks ago upon achieving the Third Realm. It authorises me as head of the Hu Clan, granting power over those under its' banner."

Both of them boggled at it, wide-eyed and shocked.

"As mortals, you are afforded certain legal protections under Imperial law. You are not compelled to join the Hu Clan, nor is it appropriate for anyone to retaliate against you for not doing so. You may, once we are done, walk out this door and return to your lives exactly as they were. This is your right."

Both of her parents glanced at the door mutely.

"You have a choice. I want you to know that."

Dieshu reached into her storage band again and took the pouch of red stones out into her other hand. She dropped it onto the table, allowing the contents to be seen through the open neck.

"If you choose to join the Hu Clan and observe its' principles, you will be provided with a stipend of cultivation materials to extend your lifespans with. You will also be permitted to return to Jiashan and continue to run your textiles business."

Both of them now boggled at what looked like a small fortune in front of them. Dieshu reached over and tugged the drawstring closed on the pouch.

"Either way, once you die, the factory will be without your guidance. Your choice today will determine when that happens, and whether you will have had time to secure its' future."

She folded her hands and watched her father mutely travel through his familiar moods of confusion, rage, fear, avarice, rage again...

"Your requirements for joining the Hu Clan are very simple. Respect me, Hu Dieshu, as its' head. Do not contact me unless I contact you first. Do not bring shame to the clan. I will have final say on any matters I deem worthy of my attention. You understand."

The last point was more instruction than query. Dieshu released her father's lips. Her mother urgently tugged on his sleeve again, and they held a whispered conversation that Dieshu did not listen to. She watched their horror and anxiety and anger swirl inside them as they decided whether to swallow their pride and accept reality, or fade into mediocrity. She wondered if they would gain some small measure of understanding from it.

Eventually, her parents turned to face her again. Her father, of course, spoke for them both. His voice was small and halting, but she could feel the indignant bravado that he tried to weave into it.

"What... have you done to yourself? We left you in the Sect's hands hoping Master Ran's discipline would solve your... your issues, but now you come before us as a... a..."

"As myself, Father. You behold the culmination of two years' intense effort. Cultivation is the removal of falsehood, and I did not undertake it lightly."

She had left many things behind. A name. A face. Self-censorship. Filial piety. She shook one hand free of its' voluminous sleeve, and held it out against a lantern.

"Every cultivator becomes themselves to one extent or another. I merely did the same."

"But – but why? You could have become a successful soldier, or, or a-"

She slapped the tabletop, and they both jumped.

"Father, have you even wondered what it is I do here? Why I have been allowed to remain on Sect grounds for two full years now? I am performing vital archaeological research via liminal delving, developing formationcraft designed to pierce and filter collective psycho-geography so that its' historical roots can be – you, you have no idea, do you?"

He stuttered, blustering. Dieshu could see the raw confusion in his mind. It was like explaining money to a baby. This was fruitless, and she was coming undone under the pressure of the meeting as it dragged on.

"Enough. Do you accept my terms?"

Her parents looked at each other. Their lined faces were bloodless with fear and shock. Their decision festered inside them, Dieshu could see it – but she needed to hear it from their own mouths. It had to be done in its' entirety. Her father grovelled, slowly rising up onto his knees like a man kneeling for the executioner's block.

"Pledge fealty to your Baroness."

Dieshu watched the words form inside him, watched his brain order each syllable like a rat drowning in honey. The world stilled, the air became thick and clammy, she felt herself push on the entire room in one continuous breathless anticipation stretching itself to breaking point-

Her father bowed again, even lower this time.

"Hu Baojun pledges himself in undying loyalty to the noble house of Hu, and to... to Lady Dieshu."

Her mother bowed, and followed in his footsteps.

"Rise."

Both did so, trembling with anxiety. Dieshu flicked the bag of red stones across the table, pushing them off the edge and onto the floor in front of her father's knees.

"This is now yours. More will be provided at the appropriate intervals. Letters will be forthcoming. Return to your home."

Both of them backed out of the meeting room, bowing and scraping. Her mother was the last to leave, and looked like she was about to say something – but then Baojun tugged on her sleeve, so she left.

---

Tsulu flickered out of the liminal and landed on Dieshu's shoulder in the empty meeting room, taking the familiar form of a cat-sized moth. His antennae flicked, tasting the hot, smooth, bright anger boiling off her, and his legs felt a slight tremor. He'd waited until a minute or so after the mortals had left.

"Ho-ly shit. I felt it from out there. They said yes?"

Dieshu did not reply immediately.

"...It felt like giving a child candy for good behaviour."

"Not as satisfying as you wanted?"

"He's a sad, self-interested old man."

Tsulu considered this, and made a wet noise with his mandibles to punctuate the thought.

"Not worth pursuing, then."

"No."

"I'm sorry, Dieshu."

"Yeah."

He regarded the two cushions on the other side of the table.

"Hrm. And her?"

"Mm."

Tsulu decided not to push it any further.

"Wanna go get smashed and find some old plays that are bleeding together? You love that shit."

Dieshu grunted, and soundlessly slid into the liminal with him.

The meeting room was now empty.

 

[yrsillar]

"You're lucky you're so comfy, or I'd have never agreed to trudge all the way up here," Hanyi huffed, crossing her army haughtily.

"I, Zhen, have been doing all the trudging."

"No. Gui has done that."

The mountain stone groaned under his tread, but he did not worry much, though the old and hoary mountain would soon shed his scales in a rumbling avalanche, they were not so loose yet. A year, a decade, Gui thought it might be so.

Zhen chided him to remember so that Zhen could say something to scholar friend. Humans thought that kind of thing was very important, even if the mountain was far away from the shores and the little testing holes being dug.

"Details," Hanyi dismissed airily. "Besides, boys should be happy when a pretty young miss uses them as a seat."

"Gui thinks Hanyi has been getting too many weird ideas from Miss Storm Reaver's books."

And Zhen still did not know how he felt about that one, who carved up her body to stick metal bits through it to claim the sparks of heaven, and insisted she wanted to be kin. He worried big sister was being too trusting! Look at what she was doing to Hanyi!

Gui thought Hanyi was always weird this way though.

But the ideas…

"Indeed, who would be happy being a seat! I, Zhen, indulge you only because Hanyi is so lazy."

"I am not! A proper lady is just supposed to be carried or ride on long trips is all."

"Big Sister does not do this, most times," Zhen hissed.

"Big Sis can be weird if she wants, since she's strong," Hanyi sniffed. "Besides! It's different if you can fly."

Gui grudgingly acknowledged this.

The peak of the cliff came into view. The deeply digging rootlets sprouting from his feet dragged free of the stone as he hauled himself up the final sharp turn of the incline, coming out onto the broad, snow dusted peak of the mountain. The cold wind blew, flakes sizzling and melting on the back of his shell even as the wind kicked up, and the clouds just overhead released curtains of falling white.
"...It's pretty though, so I guess I can forgive you for dragging me all the way out here," Hanyi said quietly, sitting up straighter against the angled spike of his shell that she had been using as her backrest.

Zhen craned his body over itself, peering back out behind himself. The whole vale of Snowblossom spread out behind them, a swathe of darker and lighter greens, mixed with yellows, browns and the white of snow, all surrounding the massive deep blue shape that was Miss Snowblossom.

"Hanyi is not wholly tasteless, I Zhen, acknowledge."

Ah, such depths, which could swallow him whole even after he grew twice, thrice many times more than he was now. Icy waters which would boil so hotly under his flames He could gaze upon her forever…

"Ugh, Can snakes even drool? Don't be gross, nobody likes a stare-y guy," Hanyi huffed, bringing her fist down on his shell with a crack, frost radiating out, only to swiftly melt.

"Gui thinks Hanyi is much too late."

"Probably, figures you would be the sensible one huh?" Hanyi sighed, reaching forward to pat Gui on the head. "I'm waaaaaay better anyway. What's some fish obsessed homebody compared to the Idol of Winter's First Breath!"

Gui tilted his head back, giving her a patient look as they trudged away from the cliffside, shell rocking too and fro in his usual gait now that they were back on solid ground.

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Hmph, even you huh? You like huge old ladies that much huh?"

"Too rude! Miss Snowblossom is mature and gentle, not like bratty Hanyi," Zhen hissed.

"Gui thinks Miss Snowblossom is very nice, but in a different way than Hanyi," Gui said placidly. "She will always be here in Gui's Kingdom. But Hanyi will go away a lot, yes? Hanyi is too breezy to cling to one mountain, one shore, one Gui."

Hanyi pouted, puffing out her cheeks. They strode in silence through the driving snow. Gui firmly informed Zhen that he would get rolled over on if he piped up.

"Momma made a mistake," Hanyi's whisper should have been inaudible under the wind's howl. It was not. "Obsessing over one thing, one boy…. What'd you do if he turns out rotten like Papa huh? I'm gonna travel alllll over, on the cusp of the first cold wind, and I'll meet lotsa people, and pick out the ones I like best. Be happy that you're still the first and best, you big doofus!"

"Gui misses Hanyi alot, but she was very happy when she came back from her trip, so Gui is happy too."

"Doofus," Hanyi repeated fondly. "So seriously what are we doing up here anyway? I've been patient, but I'm not gonna wait anymore!"

Zhen spied the difference in the temperatures ahead, where the cold solidity of rock gave way to the whipping tempestuous air.

"Gui wanted to come since he and Hanyi have not gone zooming down a mountain in a very long time."

"What, we're not brats anymore you know," Hanyi huffed.

Gui turned his head, staring balefully up at Zhen.

Zhen flicked his tongue and turned up his nose, this was Gui's business.

"Gui thinks Hanyi is trying too hard when it is just Gui around. Look, Gui picked this one out. How steep, how long, a path all the way to the base of the mountain."

He could feel the echoes of water on stone, some span had carved a long and winding furrow into mountain stone, now filled with snow, boulders, and scraggly trees.

Hanyi hesitated, looking down. Gui could feel her resolve wavering as she bit her lip.

"Gui and Zhen have a new trick too, to go even faster than we ever have before."

"Fine! I guess I can indulge you, since you put so much effort into finding a good spot," Hanyi said, eyes sparkling.

He had even cleared it with the old man mountain, this one was very agreeable.

"What's the trick though?"

"I, Zhen will show you, if Gui will prepare himself. Of course, Hanyi should hold on tight as well," Zhen said imperiously.

"Right, right," hanyi drawled, looking dubious."

"No really, Hanyi should be careful, it would be a shame if she flew off," Gui insisted. "Gui can give roots."

She frowned. "...Okay."
They sprouted up, winding out from the crevices in his scales as he withdrew his limbs into his shell, coming down on the cliff with a thump. Blackened and fire hardened, the throots formed a belt across hanyi's lap, and a thick handle for her to hold onto.

"This better be…"

Flames grumbled, guttered, orange and lurid blue light erupting from where Zhengui's limbs had withdrawn, and Hanyi's shriek of surprise and delight echoed up and down the mountainside as they roared off the cliff and hit the bottom of the furrow in a massive splash of flash evaporating snow.

Gui let out a whoop of excitement as they rocketed on, a boulder shattering upon his head, spraying shrapnel outward as they careened on through.

Even picky Zhen let out an excited hiss at the challenge as he adjusted the erupting flames sending their flat shelled belly skidding to weave through the trees in their path.

It was good to hear Hanyi laugh like this again, good to feel this freeing rush again. Down the mountain they went in a rush, steam and stone and dust jetting behind them, until at last… the real reason he'd chosen this path.

A curved cliff, terminating facing the open air of the vale.

Hanyi's screaming laugh grew louder… and they erupted from the ramping cliff in a shower of stone and fire.

And for just a minute, they flew together.

 

[StainlessBlue]

@yrsillar omake for the omake throne

As the Wind 1: Samara

To my Senior Sect Sister Bian Ya, greetings, and to Senior Brother Ruan Shen, who is doubtless reading over her shoulder, greetings also,

(How did she KNOW?
You are getting predictable, my dear.
She used to be so cute and so shy...
Hush, I'm reading. )

I am sure you have heard all kinds of rumors of the happenings down here. Looking back on my time in the south as I write this, it hardly seems real. Except for the thing with the Heron General. That hurt almost too much to be a dream, and the recovery was a miserable slog.

Large facts first: We have a treaty. We have a town. The treaty almost wasn't due to some treachery. I won't speak more of it. Those who need to know are informed and those who performed it are dead or being questioned. I nearly died, but for Sir Xuan's talisman work, and it was the single most painful and frightening thing I have ever done. Senior Brother, please stop fussing, I can hear you from here. It needed to be done so the fewest number of people would be hurt.

(I don't even get a minute? She keeps almost dying! Have a CARE, little sister!
I do wish she would be a little more aware of the danger she gets into. She has people who worry about her .... )

The lake spirit is awake and has been spoken to. A major vein of corruption that was coming up under one of our spiritual sites was dealt with and it was a delightful girls night out for Su Ling, Li Suyin and myself. Su Ling made sure that Gan Guanli came with us as well, and they stayed above while Suyin and I went underwater to deal with it. The spirit of the place, called the Harmonious Piper, is.... strange. I would welcome you both down to visit and to give your opinion.

My family and household is settling in well. My little sister wants a puppy, and my mother wants her house in order. One of these will be accomplished, to no one's satisfaction.

Enough procrastination. This next part, I have been trying to write for weeks, all the way through Her Grace's wedding. Senior Brother, if you are still reading this, take this opportunity to either stop reading or be sworn to secrecy for the rest of your life.

( Oh, I had hoped she would.
The whole of my life?
She means it, if what I think is happening truly is )

Senior Sister, you are, of course, aware that Bao Qian has presented his suit, as that occurred during my time at the sect before the war. In the course of the past few months, two more have expressed interest, with formalities to follow.

I am.... Flustered. And Mother's experiences do not lend themselves to approval in this arena. I cannot ask her how this is supposed to feel.

If it were only for politics or advantage or even physical appearance, I might understand more easily. Bao Qian is somewhat of this sort, but I have not had much opportunity to work with him outside of Hanyi's concert management and business prospects. The other two..... For lack of a better phrase, senior Sister, they seem to be interested in... me? As a person. And I have no idea why.

( Beloved, I am going to hit her upside the head.
I might follow suit, though I am more inclined to find a way to fix this lack of accurate self image.)

I don't want to hurt people, and someone is going to be hurt no matter what I choose. Xuan Shi is, now that I think on it, the closest male friend I have and I rely on him almost too much some days. Meng Dan is... Well, Senior Sister, I will introduce you to Sir Meng. I will only say he is intelligent and confident, which is apparently a very good combination for me. They are all good people and are investing much time and effort in me.

(XUAN??
He has carried a flame for her for years, my dear. It's hardly surprising.
How did I not see this?
...... )

To be frank, I almost hate it. Except for the fact that I do not. Which is, in itself, disconcerting. Even more, I think I hate how indecisive it makes me.

So, to come to a point. Senior Sister, how do you know who to choose? You know I am.... reticent on this sort of thing. What sort of things will they expect me to do or say? How much liberty am I allowed to take? How much will they expect me to take? How much are they expecting to take? How have the boundaries of our relationships changed, just by their asking?

Senior Sister, what does the right choice feel like? What does making the right choice feel like? Senior Sister, how am I supposed to know?

I am thankful I must write this in a letter, for I would never be able to say this aloud. I hope you find time to rest among your duties, and to play something simply for the sake of happiness,

Ling Qi

( I'm going south.
You can't, you are on duty tomorrow.
I'll be back in time.
No you won't!
Yes I will!
Just write her back!)

 

[yrsillar]

Sunlight crested over the white dunes of the outer land, catching upon countless millions of smooth grains. Each mote of glittering, reflected light came together, a vision of the purity of the Highest rippling across the distant horizon.

Hori XVII Iremistis observed the beauty of the sunrise at the speed of stone, mortal seconds crawling by in what seemed like minutes to his own mind. Truly, he could not wait for the day when his perceptions grew so sharp that he could observe the rays of light themselves in motion, rather than merely perceiving their interactions with baser materials.

The contemplations of light and air were the most fascinating subjects he had found for study since he had been accepted as a full member of the Temple. The slow motion ripple of flowing clouds and winking light, the sparkle of the sands… these things he could watch forever.

But he was not yet a High Judge, an Elder Archivist, who could sleep the stone sleep for years on end. By the time the sunlight had crawled halfway to the glittering ribbon of blue that cut through the black earth of the near land, he could feel a slight pinch and burning behind his eyes. The limit of a young mind to withstand such meditations.

He rose from his plinth and stretched his limbs, arms widespread, greeting the sun with burnished bronze gleam. Upon the balcony of his room the world returned to mortal speeds and the sun climbed the side of the temple complex and Hori alike. Only when he was awash in it did he turn back toward the temple and stride inside, catching his linen skirt from the stand he had tossed it over, and availing himself of its cover.

He passed the marble slab of his bed, the papyrus strewn desk, holding his notes on many projects, and snapped his fingers once.

A shadow loped from his doorway. The dreg flesh he had been assigned looked like a man of his age, through withered and pale, as dregs always were. Its features were vaguely canine, stretched like a beasts skull under human skin, but its movements were still smooth and without any sign of malfunction as it came before him and bowed, long and clawed fingers clasped before its sunken chest.

"Messages," Hori commanded absently, striding past to stand before his silver mirror. He was a short man, barely over two meters tall. It had bothered him once, to be so slight, but he had grown out of such things. He was himself, for all that many frames came easily to him now.

"Administrator of the Fourth House, Amenirdis VI orders your attendance of her office by the end of the eleventh hour."

He paused in the midst of combing his fingers along the oiled black braid which hung from the back of his head. The Dreg-flesh's mechanical repetition of the message inscribed into its limited mind conveying the firm tone of a senior scribe. One who was Sixth of their name, and the Administrator of his section at that, calling upon him? A youthful Seventeenth? That could be only opportunity or trouble. Most likely both.

He did not think any of his recent projects would draw such attention though… Perplexing.

"The great Communications Architect Amunet IX conveys his congratulations upon your recent feats of mastery in the arts of the Fourth House and expects to hear from you soon." The dreg droned on, unmindful of his thoughts, merely proceeding through his messages.

Well gratifying that father was thinking of him, even if he had diverged from the Fifth House where his Father oversaw the warriors of the House of all Secrets. The dreg-flesh went on, other messages playing from its lips, but none of a great import, request for information sharing or research references from his siblings and cousins and friends in the temple hierarchy, confirmations of material orders received from outposts, a delivery to pick up.

The first was the most urgent. He took one moment longer to adjust the white gold bangles on his wrists, and the beaded usekh around his neck, arranged to mark his rank as a researcher in the House of All Secrets.

The dreg flesh fell silent at last, and Hori nodded in satisfaction at his reflection. He dug his thumbnail into the meat of his forearm, crimson blood welling from broken flesh, and ripped a thin strip of meat free, tossing it absently to the dreg-flesh, who lunged and snatched it from the air, glassy crimson eyes showing the faintest spark of awareness for the first time since he had seen it today as it devoured the meal with sharp and gnashing teeth.

The gauge in his arm was gone before he'd finished closing the door of his chamber behind him.

***​

A stroll through the temple was normally a relaxing thing. Hori was not as reclusive and shut in as some of his temple kin were, his focus on the open expanse of the sky and the radiating motion of light as a subject left him more inclined to the outside. Indeed, here in the House of All Secrets, the central temple of Great Dihauti, where the God himself slept the stone sleep beneath their feet, he was always in good company.

The high colonnaded halls of bright white and warmly colored stone, carved with the histories of Khem. They gave way to the vast libraries, each wing a match for the stores of knowledge held by whole cities, the open forums and testing chambers where the newest techniques and experiments were done, where the wise honed their knowledge upon their fellows' own sharp minds.

But it grew quiet, as one descended the lower floors. Those who walked the narrower halls alongside walked with heads low in reverence, and so did Hori. For here, the presence of the Elder Ones could be felt here, their deep thoughts as thick as smoke in the unlit halls of sparkling black stone. How he wished he could be privy to their decades long debates! The wisdom of centuries and millennia in its uncompressed form. Alas, he was only here to speak to the Administrator, intermediary between the deeper temple and the new awakened.

Her mausoleum was the sole chamber flanked by lit torches, burning silver with Dihauti's light, its great slab doors dragged aside and open.

Hori entered with tingling anxiety running down his spine. Administrator Amenirdis loomed above him in the dim silver light. In her rest, her stone form was embedded in the rear wall of the chamber, standing upright, bead woven hair frozen as if caught in the wind around her head, hands clasped together before her unmoving chest, the crescent moon of her headdress gleaming like purest silver under the black disc it held. Around her, carved into the stone were countless slowly shifting characters, calculations so complex that to merely view them made his eyes water, knowing that he could not even perceive their full dimensions as he was.

Humbling.

Hori lowered himself to his knees, hands flat on the floor before the narrow black altar which rose from the floor in front of her, its silver offering bowl full to the brim with shining crimson blood. "Administrator, Hori XVII Iremistis does present himself to hear your will."

It was a full one hundred heartbeats before he heard the slow groan of shifting stone, the sharp crack of its crumbling, and felt the Administrators gaze upon him.

He raised his head, and met the eyes that peered from the stone, each a pit which opened into the expanse of the night sky. He swiftly pulled his eyes away lest he be drawn too deep.

SEVENTEENTH HORI. RESEARCH ASSISTANT UNDER THE ARCHITECT OF FORCES. YOUR NAME IS KNOWN.

The sound of her voice pressured him, coming from every direction, inside his own mind and out. His breath caught in his throat. To be acknowledged like this was a great honor.

YOU HAVE BEEN CALCULATED AS THE MOST SUCCESSFUL CHOICE FOR AN EXPEDITION OF GREAT IMPORT. TO BE THE EYES OF THE TEMPLE.

A research expedition? He'd not heard of anything being gathered, his mind spun with the possibilities. "Of course, Administrator. I am honored to be chosen, though I do not quite understand… Which of my deeds and projects drew your attention?"

SOCIAL FUNCTIONALITY. EXPERIENCE WITH OTHER TEMPLES. PREVIOUS RELATION TO THE SLAYER PRIESTESS OF GREAT SAHKMIS, ARRIVING ON THE MORROW.

Hori blinked, he was not entering the sleep, and yet for a long moment the world seemed very slow indeed. Yes, he had traveled a great deal, far more than any but a disciple of Pteru, under his Father's wing, but one of Sahkmis' daughters, he'd only ever…

No.

Oh no.

"This is not a voluntary assignment, is it, great administrator," he asked sadly.

IT IS NOT.

He liked to believe he could hear some sympathy in that crushing pressure that rendered itself as a voice. This was going to be a long journey, wherever he was being sent.

 

[StainlessBlue]

@yrsillar omake for the omake throne

As the Wind 2 - Nor'easter


To Lord Xuan Shi

Greetings from the Capital. It has not even been a week and the whirlwind that began in the summer simply does not stop. Thank you again for your efforts in securing my family. It is a debt that I could spend a lifetime repaying, even knowing you would never call it in.

I have been accepted as a retainer to Lady Cai, as a token of my family's allegiance to the ducal house. At home, however.... As you would say it, the Labyrinth writhes. With my grandmother's ascendancy, all should go smoothly, but I now have an intimate appreciation for the nature of Chaos in history. I am but a patch on the scar that is the Meng. I hope I do not fray.

How fares the south? I know the ladies wish to return soon, as the clamor of the city is very different from the wilderness of Snowblossom. Lord Gan has expressed a dissatisfaction at "getting nothing permanent done", as if alliances are not grown from small seeds. But after seeing a town grow with such speed, I can understand it entirely. The now-five of us create nothing here. The walls are so close, and the eyes of many are on us. We can only do the work Lady Cai prescribes, and pray it is enough.

As a new retainer to Lady Cai, it amuses me to see the personalities that they hide from others. Lady Cai is a redoubt of good sense, but she allows her retainers more leeway in causal conversation than I would have thought, even returning gentle jests. Lady Xia Lin is an exemplar, as is expected from one of the White Plumes. Lord Gan has a depth of good sense, wit, and even temper, when he is not Declaiming Heroically. Were he of a mind, I would recommend him to an acting troupe, he plays the Honorable Buffoon so well, meaning no offense. I know for a fact he takes pride in this misconception as a carefully crafted ruse. Lady Ling takes delight in teasing everyone, for all of us know she would rather drive a knife into her own flesh than say anything in polite company that would cause harm.

Which brings me to the point of it. I have presented my suit to Lady Ling, approved by my family, and she has accepted, informing me that I am in competition not only with one Bao Qian, but yourself as well. It was a bit of a shock, to learn that your family would permit you to marry out. Lord Xuan, I mean you no insult in this. She is a remarkable woman, even with her deliberate disregard of her own value and brilliantly chaotic luck. (In all seriousness, how does she keep pulling these things off?) She said she would not like to "string along suitors for benefits" (yes, a direct quote). So I write this in hopes of honesty and expression, which seems to be a theme around her.

I do not wish to be your competitor, but I also do not wish to lose. I can never repay what you have done for me and my family, but I refuse to back down in this. I wish to be your friend, though we have not had cause to speak often or casually. Perhaps I might even be a personal ally, at least in the noble cause of keeping Lady Ling from devaluing herself to the point of self-harm. You most likely saw her after she walked the Heron General to war. She is too precious to too many to lose. I know you are working on some project with her bound spirit, and that she dotes on Zhengui. She must trust you a great deal.

So, as a token, here is what I have learned so far, without too much detail or losing what small advantage I have. Have confidence in yourself, and speak your mind, especially in praise. I fear she does not hear enough of it, at least that which is not layered in politics or seeking advantage. Make requests, let her think, and do not take the delay as insult. She is very aware of the world around her, and cautious of the results of other people's observations. Call her attention to the enjoyment of the physical world, of food and entertainment and genuine enjoyment of friends. Do not fear the cold.

You have known her longer than I, but I am a researcher. It is in my nature to catalog these things, to make lists and find connections. All these things are new and magnificent to me, new as I am to her acquaintance, so that which is obvious to you might seem an insight to me. But I report these findings as tested and verified.

When we get back after all this chaos, I would be honored of you would find the time to have a drink with me. My grandmother allowed me a good bit of leeway in raiding the opposing faction's wine cellar.



Yours in Truth, Honor, Vision,

Meng Dan

 

[yrsillar]

The exterior of the temple complex sprawled over the hills which stood to the east of Irem, the Sleeper city which the temple protected, snug in the bend of the great river. Hori observed the motion of the distant sleepers through their clean streets, from the laborers in the fields, and the little fisher boats, to the priests of the lower temples carrying out the administration of the city under the vigilant gaze of the stone temple guardians which kept order among those unawakened.

He turned his gaze to the single point of connection between the House of All Secrets and the city below, the shining pale blue painted stairway carved into the side of the great helps meandering up its steep slope. He remembered his first time, observing Sleepers climbing the nine hundred steps, or rather, the six hundred a sleeper could perceive on their own. It was a grueling challenge of perception and wit, navigation of the soul maze which the stairs truly wound through, using only mortal senses and the clues and riddles left by the priests.

Young boys and girls, eyes shining with determination and intelligence, even as their parched lips bled and their exhausted limbs trembled. It was ever an inspiring site, a reminder to the blood of Dihauti that the cradle city Irem was an endless fount of new wisdom to add to the Mind of God.

Perhaps he should volunteer to be a proctor in a few years. Maybe if he had taken on more communal duties, he would not have been chosen for this task.

He felt her approach out here on the temple veranda, it came with the crying of the desert wind, the rippling heat haze of the dunes beyond, where the godpath wound through out of synch with the material world, stretching off to the more southerly temples in the network. It was a presence that stalked and loomed, a lion in the high grasses.

He refused to give her the satisfaction of reacting to her progression, remaining in his polite stance here at the temple gates, beneath the colorfully painted pillars cut with warding glyphs and temple history. His porter dreg stood hunched behind him, the stone chest containing his tools and effects strapped across its back. Its crimson eyes were dull, flicking around the courtyard like an animal, panted in the desert heat, pointed tongue hanging from its muzzle.

Other scholars and their own porters went to and fro past him some returning, others going. More congregated, speaking in low voices amongst the columns as they made the final checks before beginning their journeys.

The wind kicked up, sand spun, a whirling vortice out along the Godpath, and she stepped through.

The children of Sahkmis were imposing, even among the blood of the goods. Towering nearly a full meter taller than him, muscle rippled under skin like burnished bronze, lit from within by the molten heat of the noonday sun, shining through the lines of muscle tone. Her hair was like a lion's mane, ruddy and red, worn barbarically loose around her shoulders.

Now he turned to face her, and clapped his fists together before his chest, lowering his head. "Dendera XIV Malikhet, be welcome in the House of All Secrets. The blood of Dihauti greets the blood of his niece Sahkmis, and welcomes her upon his threshold."

"Cold of you Hori," She rumbled, coming to stand before him, looming, her crossed arms bulged with muscle, as thick as his thighs. He caught a flash of her teeth, sharp and predatory. "Not even a handclasp?"

"Please, at least perform the proper rite before starting this," Hori said tiredly.

She huffed, and her hand cut through the air in a martial salute. "The blood of Sakhmis greets the Far Seeing one, her Uncle, Dihauti of the Silver Eye. I accept your welcome upon the threshold, brief as it may be."

"Good enough, Hori?"

He let his hands fall, struggling not to roll his eyes. "Good enough Dendera."

He looked up at her with pursed lips. "How much do you know of our task?"

"I am to be as the guardian, the fierce storm scouring away those children of night, as you and the other we meet do your work. We go to the Old City, to mournful Faiyun, to see that the fires burn and the obelisks stand."

He nodded tersely. "Good enough. Yes, we go west as the river bends first, to Tephren, to meet with a scion of Startamer, Mistress of All Spells, the Goddess Aset, who will open the way to the Throne of the Dead King, where the Lady's late husband sleeps."

For once her cocky slightly mocking expression shifted, showing a hint of worry in pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. "So deep? I imagined we might simply be scouring the dunes and replacing the warding obelisks."

"We learn more with the scion of Aset. I was only informed that the Lord of the Black Earth stirs in death," Hori said.

It was much easier to put aside his reticence for this, now that he knew the task was so serious.

"Hah, well perhaps this will be interesting after all," Dendera rumbled, glancing out west, beyond the course of the river. "Ready to get walking then, Hori?"

"I am," he said, snapping his fingers to call his porter to attention. The dreg lunged to its feet, bounding up to stand behind him, wobbling only slightly from the weight of the stone cabinet on its back.

***​

The Godpaths were a fascinating subject in their own right, the roads paved in the realm of souls by Pteru's wanderings during the age of the First Sun, when the world was yet in flux after the sundering of the primordial sea and the formation of the lands as they knew them today. He had put in requests to be included in the reclaiming expeditions, to restore those which had broken and expand those which had been worn down, but he was yet too junior to be considered. If he…

"Eye's ahead Hori. The Paths are not kind to those with wind blowing between their ears."

He glanced at Dendera irritably. "One can ponder more than one thought at a time, or at least I may," he replied.

The bruise colored sky over their heads, staining the sandstone path which wound through the glittering emptiness dark red, was an ill omen itself. He would not be surprised if far more things were on the move than their little maintenance expedition.

The dark green ankh's which burned along the sides of the Path, warding it from the unformed soul space around burned brightly, but every so often he caught a flicker in one. He was counting and compiling his observations on the pattern and frequency of the flickers in a third thought thread.

"Ah, yes, of course, foolish I, who does not divide their thoughts until they are all roaming about like a hoard of bored temple cats," Dendera drawled.

"There is nothing to say, we both know our duties," Hori grumbled.

"It is so," Dendera shrugged, making a show of shading her eyes despite the sourceless nature of light in the Paths as she peered ahead. "No regrets?"

"Do you have any?" Hori shot back. He did not need to spend his days with someone who fundamentally disrespected his work and interests.

"None," she replied tersely. "I spoke only true words."

"Then why bring it up?" Hori replied. He peered ahead himself. There was the outline of Tephren in this realm. Or rather, the vast white pyramid of gleaming seven colored force, inscribed with a million warding spells, each potent enough to unmake even lesser gods.

The Citadel of the Queen Mother, Goddess Aset, Master of All Names.

And there ahead of them on the road was a figure waiting for them.
They were slender for godkin, dark eyes lined with kohl, and lips painted white, their hair arranged in the black and dark blue braids in imitation of the God's own visage, they wore a gown of white and gold, inscribed with glyphs and the names of spirits bound to their will. Most prominently, from their shoulders sprouted wings of scintillating colored feathers, folded before them in patient waiting, a sign of the Queen-Mother's favor.

"Welcome, the Citadel of Aset thanks the Houses of Dihauti and Sahkmis for their prompt attention," their voice was a whispering, breathy thing, that nonetheless echoed clearly in the still air.

"The wrathful wind rises always at the word of the avenger of the First Sun," Dendera rumbled.

"And the Far Seeing knows the Mistress of Magics does not call without need," Hori said, clasping his own fists. "Though this scholar is curious, should this matter not rise to the Pharaoh's house?"

It did, after all, involve the stirring of his father's grave.

"This cannot involve the Third Sun. The Blood of Horakhty cannot enter the realms of the dead. This is forbidden, by pact and price paid by the Goddess. I cannot speak more of this," They said calmly. "Will that suffice for your curiosity, secret seeker?"

"It will, and my apologies," Hori said, lowering his head.

"You'll get that poking nose cut off one day, Hori," Dendera said. "Who do we speak to?"

"This messenger bears the title Lapis."

Their name was still held in Aset's vaults then. That temple's practices were most restrictive.

"Fine. Where do we go now, Lapis?"

"Now, I show thee to the gates, and you will prepare to face the Dead King's troubled dreams."

 

[yrsillar]

It did not even feel like stepping back into the material world, stepping from the Godpaths into the lands around fallen Tephren. Once the first city, the land where the young gods had gathered around their father, Firstborn and incarnation of the Sun, to fight back the black chaos of the stars. It was a monument to humanity, and the triumph over Chaos, the throne of the first Pharaoh.

The waters of the great river had long left this place, its flow having changed long ago, not the slow natural meander that took centuries, but in a single moment of cataclysmic shift into a new bed. Yet the soil had not returned to sand here. It was black and lush all along the old rivercourse, and the wheat grew up from it in tall waving fields. But its gold was tinted a sickly and shimmering green. The ghostly echo of the river flowed within the dry banks, ephemeral and whispering. Looking down on its surface from the hill they stood upon, he could glimpse the silent faces of the dead in the flow. But even here he knew there was disturbance, too many faces twisted in rictus, too many hands scrabbling to pull themselves free.

The river of the dead was a serene thing, when its King was sleeping well, only those who had lived twisted enough lives to fear their judgment should be in such a state.

"Well, either the sleepers have gone bad again, or something else is amiss," Dendera spoke his thoughts aloud. "And my Goddess has not stirred in her tomb, so 'something else' it is."

Lapis bowed their head in silence. "It is so. Come. This one knows the method to cross and reach the gate."

Their wing pointed out, to the crumbling shadow of stone beyond the deathly fields and whispering river. Like the fields, much of the crumbled walls, the city beyond was more the stuff of spirit than stone, glowing faintly against the backdrop of a sky locked eternally in dusk. But the great black stone gates that stood in their center were heavy and physical and real in a way that nothing else in his vision was.

They descended the hill in silence, his contemplative, and Dendera's wary, only the animalistic panting and thump of his porter's heavy footfalls broke it. They passed through the fields of waving wheat, so cold to the touch that it seared his flesh black where a stalk brushed against his body.

Drawing the dead flesh back in and generating a new more resistant epidermis from his study of the necrotized cells was enough to keep his mind occupied through the walk. As they approached the riverbank, Lapis spread their wings, halting the group as they made some sign that he could not perceive. A low bridge of white stone faded into existence, coalescing from the mist given off by the river of the dead.

"There will be no cost. As guests, you are welcomed without tolls," Lapis said softly.

He nodded as they began to cross, peering over the side of the bridge for a closer look, absently batting aside the dripping ichorous claw of an old man dressed in tattered sleeper finery, bangles of gold and ivory still about his neck. The brush of his hand was enough to send the weeping thing back into the river course from which it had leaped.

"Fascinating, to be able to exist beyond the river at all, there is a great deal more energy flowing through the course than there should be."

"It is so. The wardings are straining, the river may burst its banks within a decade or two, should the King remain so unsettled," Lapis agreed.

"The dead should not be so wild. The mad scrabbling bottomless hunger of life should be past for them," Dendera rumbled. Heat poured off of her, distorting the air. Oppressive and hot, it quelled the slopping grasping hands that reached for them from the sides of the span, boiling away ghostly flesh and bone until the spirits fell squirming back into the 'water' below. "What exactly must we do here? You have been vague. Stop being vague."

Lapis paused, they were only a short way from the Gate now. "You must deliver this one to the foot of the King's throne, so that I may allow my Goddess to soothe his dreams."

Hori's eyes left the intricate carvings, depicting the strife over the Throne of the Firstborn, when He rejoined the Greater Sun, and his chosen heir was challenged. "You are barely of greater godsblood than us, unless you hide very well. Will this not…"

"I will do my duty. You will do yours. Deliver me unto the throne. I will require all of my vitality for the task."

Dendera snorted. "Hah, I see now. We are all walking happy into the underworld, I suppose."

Lapis' wing brushed over black stone, awakening glittering glyphs in meticulous order. They lowered their head, the braids of their hair shadowing their eyes. "... I would like to live. Thus I ask you both to do your duties well. To navigate, to fight, that I need not exert myself on the journey."

Hori grimaced. No pressure of course. He reached back, idly lifting the stone cabinet from his now ragged and crumbling porters back. Unlike them the journey had not been kind to the dreg flesh, now withered and blackened, rotted by the air here, baked by Dendera's heat, half dissolved from the journey through the Godpath. Setting it down by the gate as Lapis enacted the gate opening, he swung the cabinet doors wide.

…Which of his life flasks would be best for battling the unquiet dreams of Death?

"Ugh, you still haven't fixed that smell, Hori?"

"It is still the best fertilizing brine. The smell can't be changed without losing the properties." Two flasks full of squirming, pulsating liquid gold, grown from cultures of beasts which lived under the harshest rays, attuned to the burning red wastes. Distilled down, this should give him an edge. He sank the glass flask into his chest, and crushed the container with a flex of muscle, taking in a sharp breath as what felt like a bolt of lightning radiated up his spine. Nerves reformatted, muscles attuning to the temporary rush of power and change

He exhaled, and golden sparks of sunlight drifted out from his warping, sharpening mouth, glittering feathers rippled out from his skin as bones hollowed. His vision sharpened and as an eye of liquid gold opened on his brow. He left the earth on shimmering wings, the cry of ibis bouncing from the stones of the underworld

The gates began to grind open, and Dendera snorted, the sound distorted by the increasingly leonine cast of her face, and the whipping hot winds beginning to whirl around her feet.

***​

Chaos awaited them in the streets of the Tephren. Where the dead should have wandered in serene contemplation, ere their descent to the King's halls, instead piscine nightmares thronged, flopping, crawling, squirming down narrow alleys and wide boulevards alike. Hori had only seen the sea a few times, the study of the abyss of waters, the primal realm from which the lands were called, was not his.

But he recognized the shapes arrayed around them in horror. The houses of the dead bulged with spirits, hidden behind doors of gold and basalt, but his eyes could see the weakening of the wardings. If this stood, if these nightmarish things continued to claw and gnaw and dissolve, there would be so much lost.

…He remembered why he had been drawn to Dendera once. She was death, a reaping lion, untouchable and unshakeable. She stalked the broad boulevard, the wild red flames of her hair like a banner, the face of a lioness, a roof topping titan of bronze and fire as she strode into the squirming mass of nightmares on footsteps that made the earth tremble.

Her breath was killing pestilence, the red wind which punished the wicked. Where it blew, damp rubbery bodies twisted and bucked, veins bulging under flesh, inflamed, sores opened, weeping blood and fouler things. Lesser nightmares collapsed, retching blood as pink foam formed over fluttering gills. He could see, with his sharp eyes, the countless ways in which blood and flesh was twisted against itself.

And those which still stood in the wake of that met burning claws which rent apart flesh like thin cloth.

But the brute might of Sahkmat was not enough alone. The things in the streets were endless. Dendera could slay until the sun burned out, and they would come still. This too he could see, watching them with far seeing eyes as fresh nightmares recombined from drifting soul matter, observing their construction from the leaking emotional background of the realm of the Dead. The very fear of the ghosts huddled in their houses were the particulates upon which new pearls of horror formed.

…And the city itself was against them. No, that was too strong. The Dreams of the King were not malice, but they twisted the streets all the same, pushed them away all the same.

It twisted in more than physical directions. His wings beat and the golden thread which spun out, connecting his claw to the rampaging lioness pulled taught as he dragged them through bent dimensions, navigating a maze which adjusted its halls with every beat of his wings.

Were the dusk not eternal here, the sun would already have risen in glory.

Nit, Lapis remained silent, curled into their own wings, untouched upon Dendera's shoulder.

And the great Mausoleum Palace of the King of the Dead was close now, he could feel.

There, there was the key, a crouching squalid thing of eyes and tendrils, as large as a house, toothless mouths open in wailing song that itched at his mind

There! That guards the stair, one last blockage!

Dendera roared, nightmares died around her feet as the rip and sizzle of flesh being torn apart sounded.

They would descend the great stair soon. He hoped they would learn just what had awakened such nightmares in a god there.

 

[yrsillar]

It was such a heady time to be alive!

Astronomer Wu, strode the through halls of the observatory, with a nearly untoward amount of pep in his step, as he had since the Summit had come to a close and restored his optimism that all of that traitor awfulness was behind them and a new era of astronomical research was at hand.

Here Imperial scholars and foreign ones walked and learned side by side, trading ideas and spreading knowledge. Excellent indeed!

He was very happy that the foreigners wore more civilized outfits than that elderly fellow he'd spoken too though. Honestly the scent of leather and furs had always irritated his nose. One reason among many he'd been eager to leave his clan fief for an education in the capital. The fellows here were mostly smooth faced young men, who might have passed well among the exam schools, if not for the strange shape of their eyes and ghostly complexions.

Well, there were a few very hairy fellows, but he didn't mind that so much.

He passed through the doors of the top telescope room, hissing softly open as they opened releasing the sealed and pressurized air inside.

"Astronomer Syzmon," he greeted, clasping his hands and bowing to his foreign colleague."

"Astronomer Wu," Syzmon returned, bowing before extending his hand. He was one of those hairy fellows, looking a bit like a lion with a wild mane of yellow-brown hair and whiskers atop his broad shoulders… though he was rather short, coming only up to Wu's shoulder in height.

He extended his hand, clasping arms in the foreigners' own greeting. Quite aside from all the arguing in the halls below over etiquette the academics here had swiftly decided to merely perform both greetings.

"I hope your time slot has been fruitful," he offered. "Anything of interest in the phenomena you were studying?"

It was a bit painful to say he'd forgotten what Syzmon was working on. There were several cliques based on sphere's of interest forming, with surprising crossovers between the groups. Ah, he really did need to be better at connecting these things as he was the de facto director here.

"I am fascinated by these layers of 'Upper Heaven'. It is fascinating to see the Gods building their Solar Bulwarks so directly," Syzmon said, chortling. "Hah! I would worry I might be struck down for the blasphemy of observing His secrets if I didn't know better."

"Yes, well if the divine didn't wish us to learn, they'd not have granted us eyes to see and minds to think," Wu replied. He wasn't particularly religious himself.

"Haha, you sound like a crowbrother, Astronomer Wu, but true, true enough. I was able to observe some particularly clear energy reactions between the Outer Bulwark and the inner, forming more of these inner layers of atmospheric protection absent nearer the gate today. Particularly the formation and dissolution of this 'Adamant Filter' along its edges…"

He politely let his colleague continue, slotting him in among the second group of research interests in his thoughts. The first was, perhaps arrogantly, his own. Those interested in studying the southern daemon lights and the emanations of these 'gates'. There were only a few foreigners among them. All rather radical types he gathered.

The second were like Syzmon, southerns fascinated by the more structured and delineated layers of the heavenly sphere in the north, with a few imperial scholars in their number fascinated by the idea of things that may have been taken for granted in the Empire's long established observations of the spheres.

There were other minor camps, mostly overlapping but focused on one particular detail. Like Syzmon and his fascination with the manner in which the Adamant Filter operated, removing the warping impurities of the cosmic energies which radiated through it.

"Oh, yes, it's been observed many times that the Filter is the quickest of the upper heavens to degrade, reacting in mortal perceivable timescales to the impurities and toxins it blocks. The cycles of energy which rebuild it every day, have inspired several construction focused Sovereign Ways over the millenia," Wu replied cheerfully. It wasn;t his focus. "But you say you have discerned the latitude where it physically ends? I've noted where it begins to diffuse, but…"

"Oh yes, some five degrees south of here I would say, you're right that it begins to diffuse further north, but the overall structure does not lose cohesion until that point. It seems that the builders of the heavens can only hold back the daemons here, rather than advancing, though I did observe some wavering too and fro."

"Oh? How much… no I suppose attempting to measure spatial distance that high in the sphere would be futile," Wu said rubbing his chin.

Syzmon nodded melancholically. "It is! I took great pains to quantify the fluctuation but I am afraid I will need more observation time after I've meditated upon my data."

"Well, worry not Astronomer Syzmon," Qu said sympathetically. "With the current staff, your turn will come around again in a month or so."

"There are benefits to a newly established site," he foreign colleague agreed. "But don't let me keep you much longer. Your own slot will start soon! You were working on the…"
Syzmon trailed off, and Wu's smile became a little strained. "The origin and structure of the southern gate emanations. It is fascinating to dissect the observed wave patterns and map their fluctuation."

Syzmon made an odd little sign with his hand and grimaced. "...Well It might be. But take care no good comes from delving too deep into those things. There are useful studies to be done on the fallout and refraction effects of the emanation…"

Some of his colleagues were very cagey about this, and no one would give him any exact data. Even those studying the effects of the interactions like him warned him off delving more deeply into the source.

"Well of course. I suspect there might be some crossover," he rallied regardless. "It seems unlikely to me that the diffusion of the filter and these star-like emanations are unrelated."

"Aha, I suppose that is so. While the lights don't reach so far, I did detect some particulates and motes of that chaotic light among the upper spheres in my study," Syzmon agreed, seeming relieved by the subject change himself. "Though the scale…"

"Far exceeds any recorded effects of stellar qi in our archives," Wu replied excitedly. "Is it the same for you, who have not the benefit of the filter?"

Syzmon grimaced. "The Long Night is… well I do not know if I should speak of it. But outside the cities, outside the warmth of the sun's blood, things do… break apart, nearer the Gates."

Astronomer Wu's eyes flashed with excitement but even he could sense Syzmon did not wish to talk about this anymore. "Interesting! Well, perhaps we might help each other. Studying the interplay of the abnormal stellar energies with the Adamant Filters trailing edge might be quite a project?"

Ah, there was the temptation which drew the imagination of an academic mind! He'd crack through some of these fellows yet.

"I will think about it, friend. Just… be cautious in your observations."

Astronomer Wu chuckled and shook his head as the man left, the doors closing and pressurizing behind him. The formations began to scrub the air of the minor impurities that had flowed in as Wu himself approached the telescope chair. As if he was not doing so. Talisman's activated across his body, further shielding woven into his heavy winter robes settling in with a sigh of displaced air.

And he settled in, to cast his gaze into the depths of the warping colors from beyond the gate, to seek the patterns beyond mortal sight.

 

[yrsillar]

Ling Nuan drew in a sharp, copper scented breath, the metallic taste of her own blood sharp on her tongue, Her heel slid back a hair, foot pivoting for a better stance as he lunged forward, right fist lashing out from her tight front guard.

Her opponent's ham sized fist was still overextended, trailing blood from the cut it's passage had left under her eye. Her nerves and muscles snapped and sparked with the raw lightning filtering through every fiber. Thunder boomed as her knuckles dug into the massive blue ogre's over muscled gut. His eyes bulged comically as he spit up blood and wine soaked spit, crashed through two tables, bounced off the floor and hit the wall with a thunderous crack.

Ling Nuan straightened up, wiped the blood from her split lip and spit on the floor, raising her hand in the rudest gesture she knew.

Guffaws and cheers broke out roaring over the ever present thundering beat of the dance hall.

"Haha! Good show! Good show!" the Lord Leigong laughed, each clap a peal of thunder. "My foolish little cousins, you should know better than to underestimate a lightning immortal, no matter how slight she seems!"

The big brute she'd knocked over groaned and twitched, but his companions busted their own guts with laughter even after they hauled him out of the cratered stone, no more put out than the guests shaking their fists at her and laughing over the spilled drinks left by the tables she'd sent him flying through.

Gods, she missed this place sometimes when she was at the Sect or fighting the Cloud.

Just stupid ogres and laughing fairies, no hard feelings on anything going around. At least nothing that lasted past the next cup of wine or dance. The worst grudge or fight was just flash and noise, gone as fast as it came.

She grimaced and rolled her shoulders as she felt the broken shards of bone in her nose twist and snap back into place, the Leigong's happy will only speeding up her own recovery. She mounted the stone disc that had spun her down here, soaring back to the lord's table.

"Don't use the back of your hand to wipe the blood around, young Lady. A woman has to show a little refinement."

Ling Nuan rolled her eyes, and channeled her qi, her piercings glowed white, sizzling and crackling as lightning danced and skittered up and down her face and arms, boiling blood away into ash.

The Lady Dianmu looked her over with a critical gaze, sparks and heat washing over her where the towering spirit's gaze fell. The Lady Dianmu was always intense, more than twice her height, an elegant woman with pale bluish white skin that shone with a metallic gleam and hair of snapping sparking lightning woven throw a crown of fine copper wire. "Good. Much better."

"Indeed, a flashy finish to a battle well fought, though you should have let me take out that sluggard! He was beneath you!" Yun Long announced. The absolute dingus of a spirit was already sloshed on his Father's wine.

"Eh, I needed to get my blood pumping again," she dismissed, tossing herself down on her seat of woven cloud. She needed to figure out how she could get one of these things to stay coherent outside the court. Qiu immediately bounded off his own platform to land in her lap, tail wagging.

"And an amusing little show it was! My Southern cousins are a rambunctious bunch, a good knock on the head is just what's needed when they puff themselves up too much," the leigong said. "Young Musician, I am most pleased to see you after all this time!"

"It's good to be back, Lord Leigong, Lady Dianmu," Ling Nuan murmured, reaching to grab a wine cup from a fluttering wind fairy whizzing by with a tray larger than its body balanced on its head and hands.

"I have seen far into the land of the earth's fangs, and seen the fighting there, our musician has comported herself very well," The Lady Dianmu said. "It is no wonder the southern courts are feeling a little surly, with their humans being pushed back so far and their rites disrupted."

Ling Nuan swirled the liquid around in her cup once. She saw smoke rising from villages, smoke rising from camps. The screams of horses and men alike. The raw animal terror in a man's eyes as he threw everything he had into living just another second longer, while her lightning scorched him from the inside out.

And she remembered the blank minded fugue of that survival frenzy herself, dodging arrows falling like rain, feeling her body pierced by missiles and cutting wind, dragging her bleeding, numb legs over rough stone, hoping not to be seen as a sky shattering clash roared overhead.

She slugged back the entire cup of wine in three harsh swallows.

The Lady Dianmu observed her with sharp eyes, eyes that saw everything she felt, and which understood not a bit of it.

Spirits like her really never died in the way humans did. The Lightning sparked, flared and faded, but was born anew in moments. So they never really got it. Ling Qi's bonded, that muse, she thought that one did, and they were alien to their own kind for it now.

She scratched Qiu behind the ears. HE understood her fear, if not the more complicated bits.

But even if some of the thoughts in her head might be incomprehensible to the spirit of the striking lightning, the Lady Dianmu could still see she was bothered. "But happier congratulations for new kin. The stamp of silver and mist in your spirit is fresh and clear."

"A grand occasion! It was only a shame that I could not attend!"

"I do not think it would have been to your liking father, much too quiet!" Yun Long laughed beside her, the clouds under his glass skin churning sluggishly, as if heavy with rain. "Why I worried even Miss Yu's more restrained songs might startle the mortals too much!"

"Oh yes, yes, mortals, no, perhaps it was for the best," The Leigong said. "I have never been good with mortals."

Lady Dianmu chuckled softly, sparks popping between her teeth and skittering across the fabric of her dress. "No, you are a bit careless dear."

"Haha, I am! It is good my wife is here to guide me when I get forgetful!"

"I'm thankful for the congratulations," Ling Nuan replied. She shook her head and blinked. That was some strong wine. "It's…. It's a good family. I was prolly jumping in too fast, but seems like bein impulsive keeps workin out for me."

"You are not impulsive, new daughter of the mists, you are driven and decisive," The Dianmu tutted. "And that is why you take better to my melody than my husbands."

"It is true enough! Though she does make the thunder roar so well!"

The Leigong's booming laughter echoed in the hall, and Ling Nuan chuckled to herself, the memories dredged up seeming well and far away now. "Well, gotta be good at something I guess."

"Too humble! Too humble by half," Yun Long scoffed.

He got so loud when he got in a cup, Ling Nuan thought, receiving an affectionate lick from Qiu as well. She supposed even if someone didn't really understand what you were thinking, they could still comfort you in their own way.

"I must agree," The Dianmu said. "Young musician, do you think you would accompany me to the upper palace this evening? I think that I may have something interesting to show you."

Ling Nuan gave the spirit a curious, wary gaze. "...Not a tribulation, right, Lady Dianmu?"

The spirit smiled.

 

[yrsillar]

The upper palace wasn't a quiet place, but compared to the unending roaring noise of the lower palace, it was almost serene. The whipping wind that howled through the naturally formed entry arches of the cavernous hall and the trickle of falling waters down the sculpture-like limestone formations, which tumbled like tapestries of stone down the walls, were there own unending melody. It was much closer to the halls of the Patriarch.

Master of the South wind, ruler of the heavenly currents. She knew those golden coils hovered now well in the south, but she could see the shadow of his kin, swimming through the clouds bellow, flashing gold as they crested from the misty sea below the palace. She could feel the sizzle of electricity suffusing every mote of air up here, tingling on her skin and setting her piercings aglow with blue and white sparks. Sparks danced on her fingertips, crawling down the strings of her lute as she plucked a few meaningless testing notes.

The boom of thunder and the crack of the lightning bolt erupting, striking her back and scattering into a dozen crawling streams of static, drunk in by the metal threaded through her body. "Letting you're hair down a little, Lady Dianmu?"

Her sometimes mentor smiled as her bare feet touched the stone some ways behind her, sliding from the cloud litter which she rode among the lower palace. The sharp, searing scent of lightning only grew. The fairies bearing the cloud on their backs shrieked and giggled as electric strands tore them and the cloud alike apart into drifting motes of qi.

The Dianmu towered, standing at her full height, the mirror held in the crook of her arm a blinding pane of light. She could recognize the feeling of the spirit loosening the iron restraint she held herself with. Another bolt of lightning struck Yu-... Ling Nuan as she turned, scattering in a flickering wave of sparks that danced down the neck of her instrument.

It wasn't hostility or even a test. Lightning wanted to strike. It wanted to move. It wanted to flow, to be wherever it was not.

Yeah, there was a reason she took to cultivating heavenly qi so well. But a person couldn't be all lightning. Even the Lady Dianmu wasn't.

Ling Nuan hadn't been fried in a torrent of carefree power after all.

"It is good to stretch from time to time," the towering avatar of storms said cheerfully, blue white light spilled down her back in a crackling veil and power washed from her lips. Sparks crawled across the floor in a cresting wave as the lightning snapped out striking around her, and through her again and again. She didn't let it harm her, diverting and splitting the power until it was merely a comfortable sizzle in her nerves and channels. She'd gotten past this level of training… a long time ago.

"You are troubled. Shall we dance then?"

Yu Nuan, Ling Nuan, took a deep breath nodding once. She'd known things were going to run hot when she'd gotten up here and seen it clear of the Lady's attendants.

She slid her leading foot out and dragged her fingers down along the strings, filling the air with a harsh chord. The Dianmu merely smiled, and raised her mirror, holding it out before her.

When you came apart into lightning, everything was so harshly crisp. That was the only way she could describe it. She came apart, and the world became a series of sharp and jagged lines, High charge and low charge, everything in the world rendered down to two states.

Pure. Exhilarating.

Fucking dangerous.

She crashed forward into the spiraling convergence of lines that she knew was the center of the Dianmu's mirror. Instantly felt her self try to splinter, to run off down a thousand different channels toward a thousand different storms, to spiral off and break apart, discharging into every one of the storms under the goddess' power.

Being lightning was so much easier than being human.

It wasn't decompiling that was the hard part, it was putting yourself back together again. If she broke apart like that now, with the cultivation of a third realm, she would be as good as dead.

She shot back out of the mirror, catching and channeling her will toward the single line among hundreds that went out instead of in.

She felt her feet skidding across wet stone, sparking and popping before she could even fully form her fingers again.

"The death in the South. Your war. It uncenters you. You are happy, but you feel you should not be," the Dianmu said, tilting her head, adjusting her mirror in her hands, angling it upwards. The stone at her feet was glowing cherry red, slowly deforming under the weight of her footsteps as she leisurely turned. It made it clear that the prints all around the hall were not carvings or sculptures.

"Three circuits."

Ling Nuan, flicked her fingers across the strings, as she skidded in an arc down the wall she had bounced into.

The world simplified, and so did she.

That was the point of the exercise, now that she'd mastered the transformation. Clearing the head, stripping away ambiguity in thought.

She made the circuits, twisting and bouncing through the jagged course the Dianmu set through the channels within the mirror, and this time, barely caught herself on one of the exit arches, stopping herself from shooting off into the sky.

"Rude."

"You should not have had trouble with only that," The Dianmu said.

Ling Nuan grunted, flipping down onto the floor of the hall. She was right. "What right do I have to be happy, to come back and be welcomed by a bunch of people I barely know, get treated like…"

Like she was wanted. She'd known every time she met her aunt's eyes that first day in her new home that she was a 'nuisance'.

Her old man had been an idiot running off to some frontier settlement with some caravan girl, and look where it'd got him. And he'd even left a burden on her, with this ragged surly little girl on her doorstep.

"...I don't deserve it, not when there's so many not coming home. Not when…"

Not when she was making sure there weren't homes to come back to either.

Burning pastures, howling winds, screaming animals and people alike. Wood and brick or hide and grass, the smell of burning wasn't that different.

War of Beasts huh?

Even now, she didn't think she was wrong. Those chords still rang clear in her ears, even if she'd understood why less well.

The Clouds came to kill, and the land chased them back into the sky for revenge, and on and on it went, circling like Qiu chasing his own tail.

…And it'd never stop, because that was just how people were.

"Few receive what they deserve," the Dianmu observed. "Men slaying men is not my province. I am only the eye of the storm, the gaze that guides heaven's wrath, that it strikes only those intended and no other, as lain down in the ordering of seasons. But I do know this. Irresolute wills cannot guide the sparks of heaven."

"Deserve is meaningless. You have what you have. Will you hold it, or will you scatter?"