The Door To All Marvels

It was not home.

It was close. The enormous Ikkibao trees and their far-flung shade, the gentle humidity, the bustle and joy of life, lived, all awash with the colors and styles and working of their kind. Close, spiritually, to what they had lost. Each and every one of them, even if they were too young to remember it… by merely living here, in this hopeful imitation of their stolen home— they had lost something. They persisted on, and yet… sometimes, he could scarcely imagine why. Facing the enormity, the sheer impossibility of their task…

White Rock Refuge was close to what the Empire of Nine Sunlights had taken from them, but it was not home.

Svvh walked alone through the streets. Or, as alone as any cat could be in their community— his fellow warriors in claw and hope dipped their heads in respect for his accomplishment, mothers mewled greetings, craftsmen struggling at tasks not designed for cat paws took a moment to greet the returning hero, or whatever else he was to them. Every once in a while, a kitten would tumble out into the road, excited and exuberant in the way only kittens could be about the world. Once or twice, someone tried to tag him into their game of red ribbon tail, which he deftly avoided.

Yet, he was alone. He knew it, soul deep, in a way that settled deep within his chest— as deep as the slinking certainty of the prowl, of the outstretched paw, of the claw poised to crash and sever and obliterate everything that they had built. How could they frolic and make merry? Didn’t they know? What they’d lost? What was still being taken from them?

His compatriots had long left back to their own abodes, to consolidate their earnings or make their reports or whatnot, but he… seized by a feverish energy, he prowled through the streets. And, as it had so much over the past few weeks, his thoughts swung heavily back to him.

Ai’er Avyr. The traitor.

Where had he gone wrong? What insidious worm had managed to crawl its way into his heart, that he might be blinded to the plight of their people, turning instead to one of them? It was something that often kept him up at night, even if he’d never admit it. That he would choose a human over their own kind…

It would be one thing if it were just a moment of compassion. He’d known compassionate cats before, the sort who’d care for a broken plant if they saw one or set the wing of a fallen songbird, all to hear it sing again. Humans were not songbirds, though, and Avyr… it was not simply a momentary decision. He’s stuck by it. He’d learnt, after the fact, that Avyr lived with the human— had, since the start of the semester.

Logically, that meant that he’d been lost long before Svvh had ever entered his life. Illogically, still, it felt like a betrayal. He’d had so much hopes for Avyr…

All crushed.

All caught, and severed, and reduced to nothing more than another line of rotting carcasses in the parched basin of his trust. So, he walked— stalked, through the green streets of his home, not home, not— wondering, not thinking, not doing anything but fuming at the way it’d all turned out.

“Hm.” At first, the voice didn’t catch his attention, as even if the street wasn’t bustling, there were still plenty of people around. “Ji’an. You look disquieted. Walk alongside me, would you?” Nor, in turn, was it his name, though that was certainly enough to be surprising— no, the first thing to grab onto him was the strange silence, the sudden stillness of chatter and the soft sounds of passersby, of the whole world, breath held in quiet, pious respect. The very qi of the earth and heaven seemed to shiver and freeze, and bow inwards, and Svvh didn’t have to look towards the Great One to figure out who he was speaking too.

Angry or not, the Great One demanded nothing more than the most exaltant respect. Svvh prostrated himself on the ground before his god, not daring to look up. Then, realizing the Great One was waiting for him, he quickly scrambled to his feet and hastened to walk alongside him. Wrong. That was wrong… “you honor me,” he said, because what else was it but that? What else could he say?

“Tell me, what’s on your mind.”

He bowed his head. “As the Great One commands. This one was successful in his endeavors, and has learnt much from the human institution; I fear, however, that I was insufficient in my efforts and have not even managed to compete favorably against the top students present.”

The Great One stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his gaze so subtle but pressing, an invasive sort of weight that touched every part of his being… before, finally, he spoke. “That’s not what I asked.”

All the fur on his body stood up at the implicit disapproval. “I beg forgiveness from the Great One.” No response. “I…” he hesitated, and cursed himself for hesitating, that anger of his turning back to bite its master at his cowardice. It was just thoughts— which made it all the more humiliating that he waited even for a second before telling the Great One himself. “I… about a student, that I met, while in the University of East Saffron.”

“Go on.” They crossed a bridge, beneath which the water burbled, and the whole-world’s life seemed to come alive— breathing in the mere presence of the Great One. What an indomitable aura… “I’m listening.”

“A fellow cat.”

“Ah. Impressive, for another one of our kind to get in without even a single sponsorship from myself and my comrades. Very impressive— I was already proud of our accomplishment, and now… four of our kind, to the scant few that live in East Saffron? We show our quality well.” When he smiled, the whole world seemed to resonate— sunlight, bright, moss, sparkling, vines, lush, all despite the weather. “Tell me about this companion of yours.”

“He was an Opening cultivator.”

“Oh? Even more impressive. It’s no easy feat for a cultivator to advance through the first levels— unless he managed to get one of their pills to advance? The second level of the Bloody Saffron Sects pills are a fiercely guarded resource…”

“I don’t think his cultivation was at all related to the Bloody Saffron Sect’s. It was…” he thought back for a second, about what he’d seen of Avyr— in their time spent together, the little bits of cultivation he’d shown, the way he seemed unbothered by the cold or heat… “bright.” And, that final moment, when he’d been wreathed in all the radiance of the sun just to strike the face of the one who’d dared to strike the human he guarded as zealously as if she were a cat herself. “Powerful.”

“Opening is the first realm of true cultivation. Has he started building his meridians yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Hm… I take it you’re not on good terms with him?”

“He chose humans over us.”

“Not entirely surprising.” Instinctually, Svvh wanted to argue, but— with the Great One? Might as well just go throw himself off a cliff rather than do something that eminently stupid. “By nature of our circumstance, we are a shattered race. So few of us remain free… or, at all. Scattered to the four winds and the six directions, who can fault a young cat for learning the ways of humans? It is a tragedy, yes, that one of us might turn their backs on the ways of our kind, but… not suprising.” The Great One sighed, and the world sighed with him. “What was his name?”

“Ai’er Avyr—”

The world seemed to freeze for a second. An immense pressure, an unearthlyforce, an unrestrained devastation pressed down on him, his legs buckling under the pressure for a brief moment before it— froze, again, to a pale, still image of normal reality. “Did you say Ai’er Avyr?”

Svvh coughed, spitting up a glob of blood. “Y-yes, Great One.”

“That Ai’er? Of Black Rock Refuge?”

“I think so—”

“How could—” the Great One bit back whatever he’d been about to say, sighing, and for the first time since Svvh had met him, the indomitable cat lost just a little of that aura of implacable indomitability and just looked sad. “Interesting,” he murmured, looking lost in thought as they continued to walk— “very interesting.”

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To nowhere in particular.

………

Song Banwei had never before known the taste of defeat so intimately.

He’d been so close. So close to throwing it all away— so close to earning the favor of not just his family’s head, but the family’s head. He’d been assured that so long as he could complete that one, simple task, he would have been given access to all the resources he could have ever wanted.

He should have known it was a trap.

Yangge rested beside him, reading a book, his present comforting… sometimes. Sometimes, it felt as though he was offering insult each moment he didn’t look at him— look at him! The way his flesh crawled, the way each breath was ever so slightly belabored— it disgusted him, and he knew it disgusted his clansman as well. How could it not?

It was all that damn cat’s fault. The familiar anger rose up within him, a spitting, hissing, mad-revolting anger that curled through his qi and made him jerk under the sheets, the pain as it ran underneath his seared flesh… he whimpered. Yangge didn’t look. Banwei didn’t want him to look. It should have been easy. It should have been. He’d been trained for years in the techniques of his clan. He was good. One of the best in the city, and— somehow, that idiot who could barely pay attention in their formations class had managed to pull out endless ranks of talismans to effortlessly crush his every advance and turn what should have been his one-sided execution into a fight for his life.

He’d won anyways, of course, and then…

Sometimes, he still dreamed of the burning pain that seared his everything, imprinted the shape of a twisted paw on his face, and shattered his dreams to so much fine dust. His dreams were rarely pleasant anymore.

The door creaked open.

Yangge finally put his book down, posture straightening slightly as he turned his gaze towards the sliver of light expanding, portal opening as a finely dressed man who should not have been there stepped into their room. “Ah. I see.” That was all he said, for a while, just… looking at them. Him. He hated it. He hated it.

Yangge bowed, respectfully. “Uncle. We…” horse, slightly, his voice— “expecting you.” Worried. For what? There could only be one thing, Banwei knew, and that was him. “What brings you to our humble abode here in the University?”

“Your fathers expected you to have returned two days ago. They sent a coach to pick you up personally, you know.”

“Of course, we apologize for our inconsideration. We merely were required by circumstance and opportunity to stay here just a little longer; we were about to depart, actually.” It was a bold-faced lie, and a simple look around could tell him it was untrue. Theirs was not the room of someone who intended to return.

“Do you think,” the man spoke softly— threateningly— “that I do not know what it is like to be crippled?” Yangge winced. Banwei tried to turn his head away. Still, though, he could see the wound inflicted on him, the terrible, grievous wound that dragged the man’s cultivation to a standstill and marred his spirit in a way that his had not—

It was unmistakable, though; unavoidable even against the silhouette of him— he could see what he could not see, his uncle’s missing arm. “I failed,” he rasped out. “I am a failure to the clan.” Yangge spun in startled surprise, raising his hand to bid him be silent before thinking better of getting involved in that sort of thing and dropping it instead. “A cast off, broken thing.”

“A shattered tool, yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before. You think the elders have anything to say to you that they haven’t said to me? Skip the mourning. To regret what has gone past shows that you have no knowledge of the meaning of fate.”

“Must you be so callous?" La’ao had always been like this. Overly upright, a bit moralistic, and very annoying when he wanted to be. “Here I lie, broken beyond repair. Worse, I lost.”

“As did I. In this life, we may dream of golden millet as much as we like, but we all wake to the same world.” It did get results, though. “Come on, get up. This old man’s qi sense is not so atrophied by his bottleneck that he can’t see you’re in decently good health.” Reluctantly, Banwei tossed off his covers and pushed himself to his feet. “You’ve lost, but we’ve still a chance to win, yet. You’ve failed to use one of your greatest treasures, and this disappoints me, but— it is not too late for you to start pulling gold out of the cask instead of bodies.”

“I did everything I could—”

“Except not waste clan resources, put yourself in an unfavorable position, and draw the ire of the Outer Elder himself down on one of our most valuable allies. I’m well aware. Think, child!” He rapped him on the head, just hard enough that it hurt. It almost felt… nostalgic. “We have a whole winter break to work with. Our obstacles might be many… but we have recourse, still.”

“How?”

“Think about it.” La’ao smiled. It was not a kind smile.

………

It was not very often that he got to feel like a little fish in a big pond anymore. Ever since he’d ascended to his rank, he’d become used to being the biggest fish in a stiflingly contained pond; fun was a secondary concern and had been for a long time. The elders were sticks in the mud— mostly, he was being a bit uncharitable, but not by much— the other sects on the subcontinent were scheming bastards, and his duties were more onerous than glorious. He picked them up and followed them through because he must, because— for what else was he to do? Even if, lately, he’d been feeling rather like his noble seat brought with it only tragedy.

So, when he’d been invited perfunctorily to a summit between pretty much everyone who was anyone, he’d leapt at the chance— and what a chance! He’d known that the disturbance had been important, but not this important.

They hovered over the ruins of Beixing Port of Stars, the cavernous wreckage blasted out beneath them spread somber into the distance, hidden by the crepuscular gloam and crashing waves. Almost a hundred of them, all in all— a combination of sect leaders, grand elders, independent masters, spirit beasts, lords, generals, and imperial envoys, the likes of which only happened when something really important had gone down.

As for what— well, the phoenix of the hour certainly made that clear. Bleeding Horizons had only met her a few times before, but the change from then was enormous. He’d remembered her as a phoenix of surpassing power, delicate form, and purity, arrogant and almost heart-wrenchingly burdened. Before him, though, stood a vermillion phoenix, purity elevated to something more innate— turned inwards on itself and fed into what felt like a fathomless well of power. There was infinitely more to it than that, he was sure, but he was too weak to see it— and wasn’t that an odd feeling?

She was joined by two others, who even an idiot who lived under a rock could probably recognize from a distance. The Sect Leader of the Ever-Joyous Harmony of Bells Sect looked distinctly displeased to be forced into the same space as the Planetary Lord Magistrate, and the Lord Magistrate much the same on his own side. Both of them represented the absolute peak of power on Aurelia. Barring perhaps some of the sects on Yellow or the Emperor on Soli, perhaps in the entire realm.

The phoenix was their lesser, yes… but not much their lesser. So when she spoke, everyone listened. “I will not accept any terms that see me treated as the land we meet above was treated. As was before, and as will be now, I wish only to be left out of your political games.”

“The game has changed.” The Sect Leader. Ever the indelicate one, for an Immortal Ascension cultivator. “You know that. By advancing outside of the order of things, you have put yourself into this whether you like it or not.”

“You act as though I have no agency. We ascended spirit beasts have long remained removed from your fight.Such was our agreement, when the old empire was scattered, and we will not see that agreement broken. Unless,” there was a sudden edge to her voice— “you want me to ask Jinlong to negotiate instead?” The massive golden dragon that’d been coiling in the background— and that everyone had been avoiding— perked up, and both of the humans winced. “I thought not.”

The Sect Leader looked like he’d eaten a lemon. A particularly sour one. “Very well. Yet, you have given insult to us by destabilizing a region you vowed to stabilize. No matter the cause, the compact was broken.”

“I ascended. The compact is null.”

“In ascending, the compact was transgressed.”

“And,” the Lord Magistrate added, “you cannot remain in the territory of the Sects. Not now that you are a potential liability. If you do not leave that accursed place, then the Empire of Nine Sunlights will take it you mean to ally yourself with the Aurelian Alliance of Sects, and that would lead to war.” That was a… stretch, but not a huge stretch. It went to show just how far the Lord Magistrate was willing to go on this.

It went to show just how much the Lord Magistrate feared that very possibility.

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Everyone gathered power, preparing for war to break out right then and there, over the ruin of Aurelia’s greatest tragedy— but the phoenix waved a wing, dispelling the tension and replacing it with one of an entirely different variety. “Fine. I will leave the desert and relocate to the principalities.”

The sect leader scowled. “What about your sworn duty to the desert? Your pact binds you to cleanse it?”

“I will leave a feather. They are much enriched now. It should work as well as I did in my previous acension…” which then got the Empire mad that they weren’t getting a cool natural treasure, which then got the sects mad that…

So on and so forth. War had been averted, even if it’d been a bit closer than anyone might have liked. Bleeding Horizon’s heart still raced, though, at the exhilarating closeness he’d been to those few who were able to stomp him like a bug. He’d felt alive, then, for a brief moment.

That was probably a bad thing.

In the end, they came out with a complicated agreement that more or less boiled down to— two feathers for the sect, one for the empire, and the phoenix herself banished to some no-name principality that may or may not end up being stomped, depending on how much they liked semi-mythological divine beasts.

No war.

Yet.

As night set in full and they each returned their own separate ways, it felt closer than ever.