The Door To All Marvels

A light dusting of snow shimmered as it drifted down from above. That was the best way Mingtian could describe it— caught, suspended in that moment in the lights and luminescence of East Saffron at night, reflecting the refulgent glow of electric streetlights in the dark… Molten, liquid radiance, spilling outwards and pooling, and consecrating the ground all around it. It felt… serene. Holy, almost…

A small peace, in their world of small wars.

He stepped up to a familiar door, raising a hand to knock. Even in his small group, nobody dared to break the silence— for as it snowed, as the whole world was occluded beyond the curtain of swishing white, it was peaceful. Still, the city echoed with the faint joy of what had come before, and echoed still, as the parties had moved indoors and amongst friends, and family— more intimate, but no less joyous. One more year of peace deserved nothing less than the greatest of celebrations, and after such a tumultuous year…

He knocked, and the door reverberated woodenly under the force of the triplicate strike. They deserved it— that celebration, of their small peace… merely the peace of a planet, yes, but to a mortal that was the peace of a whole world. Their whole life…

As he waited there, he could not help but think about the difference in perspective. As a divine, a mere upturning of his hand had been enough to set vast polities to war and incite awe and terror. A strike of his sword would be noted by the other powers of the realm, and a battle… a battle would upturn hundreds, thousands— uncountably more planets just like the one he stood on, ending some and saving others. All with nary a thought…

It had all seemed merely a matter of course then. It was not that he’d forgotten his own time as a mortal, merely that in the long millennia spent ascending further, it had been… on matters of concern greater than theirs. On conflicts greater than any one mortal could ever comprehend.

It was as the great Kunpeng flew; the birds beneath were of a different nature entirely. Yet now, living as one of those little birds himself… he could see just how much of a cold comfort that truly was.

Finally, after what felt like forever but really wasn’t all that long at all, the door creaked open— revealing Juno, all dressed up in festival garments. “Oh! Mingtian! I didn’t think you’d actually come… I thought that you’d have spent time with…” then, her gaze settled on the two people standing beside him, and blanched. “Oh. I… Honorable Cultivators, I didn’t see you there. Please excuse this humble woman’s lacking sight.”

Avyr snorted. Lily just giggled. “No matter, no matter, we’re just here with Mingtian! Not in any official capacity!”

“Not that we have an official capacity. We’re merely students in the University— nothing more.” Humble, perhaps too humble for a cultivator, but… they were friends, and he and her family were bound in friendship.

“Oh… well, then!” She plastered a smile over her, quickly bidding them inside. “Come, come! Janus has been beside himself waiting for you, and we made a bunch of food… oh, hopefully we’ll be able to have something you can eat, honored cultivator Avyr.”

“…thank you.” Avyr dipped his head toward her, following inside.

Mingtian was the last to enter, inclining his head so slightly heavenwards— waiting, just for a second, for something that would not come to pass. Not yet, at least. Then, with the slightest of sighs, he stepped inside.

In the space of a moment, the silence of the snows transformed into a vivacious warmth. It lay bedecked in all the color and gaiety of the festival night, all but aglow— filled with chatter and laughter and… mortal, so much, the thought could not escape him. Yet despite it, there was something magical to the moment.

Lily and Janus were chatting off in the corner, the former still treating the latter with the deference she’d grown up with while the latter just kept trying to get the cultivator to accept some respect from him, a mortal. Avyr was chatting with Janus’s father about… something or another, trade or politics or some other matter beneath his notice while Aimi clambered all over him. The big cat had gotten used to it in the orphanage, and barely even reacted to Aimi’s… boisterousness.

For whatever reason, Mingtian could imagine Avyr still acting like that even as an immortal. It’d certainly be a sight to see…

There was a truly great deal of food spread around them. Snacks on the table, candy by the couch, and an entire feast all but fully made on the main table. There was so much that there practically wasn’t even space for them to sit.

It was great.

He smiled widely, following Juno into the kitchen. “Do you need any…”

“Please, if you would. I didn’t expect that I’d be hosting cultivators— if I’d known I’d have made something better! I’m not sure if my current spread is good enough…” she shook her head. “Well, I have some stuff in the fridge that you might be able to help with? There’s a bowl of jello, and if you could slice it into cubes roughly one inch by one inch large and carefully plate them onto the plate I left in the freezer…” and so on, and so forth; Mingtian got the impression that Janus’s mother was very much not the sort of person who would accept roughly as good enough.

Luckily, he’d studied with some of the best swordmasters in all of existence. Pulling the tray of jello out of the fridge… yes, he should be able to do perfectly fine…

Twenty perfect cubes later, painstakingly stacked into a wobbling pyramid and dressed with sprigs of winter mint and lemongrass, he was dragged onto the next dish— a far more important dish; some sort of pheasant, roasted and left in the oven to cook while she prepared the rest of those dishes. His familiarity with the art of cutting was put to good use in cooking a meal for a mortal, and…

All too quickly, the meal was finished, and everyone was called to the dining table for the feast. There was, frankly, too much food. Far too much for a group of ten, much less their group of six… and that wasn’t even including the giant hunk of raw meat that Janus’s mother had put out specifically for Avyr.

“Alright.” Sighing in relief, at last, Juno put the last dish on the table and pulled out her chair. “Thank you for coming here, ever— hey! Aimi. What did I tell you about waiting until everyone was at the table?”

Aimi froze, giving Juno her most innocent smile. “I wasn’t doing anything! Nuh uh, can’t prove it!” Except for the food stains around her mouth, and the smear of red powder on her fingers. That and the chicken bone on her plate, too. After a second, Aimi sighed. “Sorry mom…”

“No network for the rest of the—”

“It’s festival night, dear.” She paused against her husband’s words, then simply nodded. “Just don’t do it again, alright—”

Someone knocked on the door.

Juno paused, frowning. “I’m so sorry, honored guests, it seems like someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back— don’t wait up on my case!” Nobody moved to eat as she hurried off, of course, though they did send each other some curious looks.

Mingtian closed his eyes for a brief second, dredging up a reserve of patience from deep within. He had a suspicion… Standing, he pushed back his chair and made to follow. “I’ll be right back.” He slipped out of the dining room, through the kitchen and all its decorations, and beside Juno as she made to open the door.

“Hello? I’m sorry, it’s not a good—” then, she froze as she realized just who was standing in front of her. “G-great cultivator? This lowly one is not worthy of your presence!” And this time, when she dropped down into a kowtow, it was somewhat more understandable.

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After all, an inner disciple of the Bloody Saffron Sect truly was the sort of cultivator whose existence was so far beyond them that it was deserving of awe and worship.

Zhihu crossed her arms behind her back, nodding demurely to the woman on the floor. “Please, rise. I merely wanted to spend some time with a friend of mine over the festival night, and was invited here. If you don’t mind…”

Hurriedly, Juno scrambled to her feet, bowing again a few times. “Of course we don’t mind! To host a disciple of the Bloody Saffron Sect… please, come in.” Smiling faintly, she stepped inside— a momentary flash of bloody qi bursting forth from her body and evaporating the snow dusting her robes and hair.

She shut the door behind her. “Treat me like how you would treat Mingtian, please, or else this is going to be… awkward.”

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“No matter, no matter— I consider Mingtian to be a close friend of mine, and I would appreciate it if you don’t insult that connection.” Perhaps a bit more forceful than he would have been, but… it worked, so he supposed there was something for it. Juno merely gulped, and nodded, and led them deeper into the house— past all the decorations and the solstice echoes, and warmth, and to the kitchen and the feast waiting within.

Zhihu raised an eyebrow as she saw it all laid out— the sheer bounty of it, tantalizingly standing there, delicious… and, in turn, the people sitting at the table caught sight of her and reacted. Each of them had their individual little moments of surprise. Janus flinched, eyes wide, but understanding in a way that most of the others lacked. His father reacted similarly to how his mother had— reverent, worshipful in a way that he would have thought East Saffron would’ve left behind, what with how much they claimed to stand apart from the usual workings of sects and cultivation…

Lily blinked, a bit surprised, but not that much. After all, she’d been there when he first invited… or, well, more commanded Zhihu to be there for the solstice. Avyr… he looked up languidly, whatever emotion he might have felt at her appearance hidden beneath the natural barrier of his foreign species, thoroughly confident and so very catlike.

Aimi, he couldn’t help but think, had the best reaction. She all but leapt out of her chair, gasping— wide eyes in brilliant surprise as she quickly ran up in front of Zhihu. Her babbling only became coherent once she slowed down and started bouncing in place. “Wow wow wow wow— are you a real cultivator? Is that a costume? Can you do, like, like,” she pantomined an action, a slice, a furious force so degraded from its origin as to become merely a ‘swoosh’ sound and so much childish eagerness.

He huffed in amusement at Zhihu’s faint bewilderment. The others… not so much. Lily and Avyr, at least, were more exposed to the more human elements of those who sought the highest eschalons of power— the Hei family, however, were horrified.

Leaning back in his chair, he gave Zhihu the most insultingly smug look he could pull— which, given his experience as a high level cultivator, was quite smug indeed. “Yes, can you do a ‘swoosh whoosh whhhash?’ I’ve always wondered.”

“I saved your disciple once. You know that I can do all of that and more.”

“I wasn’t doubting you can use the sword techniques of the Bloody Saffron Sect, exalted as they are, or slice through your air on your flying sword. I was merely curious if you could perform the profound and virtuous, heavenly swoosh whoosh whhhash attack? Surely all your enemies would tremble in fear the moment they heard you had achieved proficiency in such a demanding art.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whoosh swoosh whhhash.” The sheer, dry, wryness that radiated from her as she perfunctorily chopped her hand through the air was… well, he bit back the sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity, and if the glare Zhihu gave him was any indication, didn’t entirely succeed. “There. Is that enough.”

“Hm…” he stroked his chin, where he didn’t have a beard— his hadn’t included one in his mortal guise, and it wasn’t like mortals could transform themselves beneath boundless radiance either. “You have progressed far in the sacred art. I will allow it, but you must meditate on your technique and the profundities within.” Zhihu giggled at that. Actually giggled.

That, at least, seemed to humanize her just enough for her to sit down at the table. Which, if it hadn’t been cramped before… well, it was certainly cramped now.

Juno glanced around at everyone, then nervously to the local inner disciple of the Bloody Saffron Sect, then bowed her head. “Thank you all for coming. It’s not quite exactly how I expected my solstice to go, but… well, at least it’s interesting. I hope you enjoy this humble selection of food from…” she trailed for a long second, a look of profound sadness touching the edge of her eyes. “Enjoy.”

“May the memory of heroes live on for ten thousand years.” Zhihu murmured, of all people, in response. Or maybe it wasn’t all that surprising, actually— what with her cultivation as it was, she was definitely old enough to have participated in the last war…

For a long second, silence… then they all dug in. It was a good meal after all, spread out before them so tantalizingly just waiting to be eaten…

Someone laughed. Lily launched into an energetic conversation with Zhihu about some cultivation thing or another, probably wrong, but still interesting for what it showed amongst the minds of those who’d reached such vaunted levels in the local practice. Avyr gnawed down on the chunk of meat, and nobody commented on it…

It was nice.

Friends, the lot of them. To live amongst friends…

It was an awesome and terrible thing.

The solstice night continued.

………

Two hours after midnight— in the city of East Saffron— Leng Mingtian, Immortal and Sovereign and Boundless Radiance, itself, found himself in a familiar and blasted plane, still tinged by the last remnants of dusk— a rosy, burnished glow on the horizon that draped itself over the twisted crags. It slipped through the holes in the rock, burrowed by long years exposed to the harsh weather— kissing the sandstone color and the desert, in its entirety, granting it in its endless solar benevolence a wreath of festival beauty.

It was a stunningly glorious night. A beautiful day, last amongst, falling to long silence at last. There was no sound there, but for the wind— a howling, furious thing, racing the sunset. Losing, as much as something like the wind could ever lose.

He held up a hand, feeling the air flowing through his fingers, sharp with the grains of never-falling sand. Ascending, in its passing, to the indigo deepness of the celestial spheres so far, above speckled with the million pinpoint pricks, stellar and bejeweled and perfect… A foreign sky, to him.

He wondered if there was any one sky he could call home. If there had been, since his first ascension from that first world, in that first, tiny realm, so long ago.

What a strange thought.

He could sense it still, of course— leaving his seals unbound, as much as they had been the last time he’d been here. The corruption of the lands beneath. It went so deep; as deep as he thought it had, which was perilously deep indeed. A terrible scar on the world, only made ever the worse by its climate and condition…

He could heal it. Pausing beside a pool of that brackish, blackish ichor, kneeling down in the stand and stone and seeing it seep through a crack and back within, the corpse of the world to who knew where— he knew that he could. It would be difficult, of course, limited as he was— that sort of thing was the power of an Immortal, or even one of the ascensions above— but he could do it. If he truly unbound himself, and caught all the sunlight for a hundred miles around the desert, forging it into a vast purifying array…

It would be the greatest eclipse the world had ever experienced. It would be the power of a god. It would probably take him a few days of dedicated work.

It was worthless.

He felt the urge leave him as fast as it came. What would even be the point? All that effort, and for what? A bunch of cultivators would probably take it over and strip it of everything that made it special, and blow the whole thing to kingdom come the moment they decided it was of the slightest political interest. It’d just be a waste.

Was this what it meant, to call Aurelia home? To live there, above it all and amongst it all, building sandcastles and just waiting for the waves to crash over them?

And beneath that, deeper within, aching emergent— the almost heretical question—

Was this what it meant to live?

What sort of life was that?