Chapter [B4] 15 — Harmony
Spring and Winter collided in my soul, the two seasons rejoining, their powers feeding into one another. There was Divinity here. True Divinity. In the eternal seasons representing the turning of the world and time itself, carrying life and death alongside them through this voyage into eternity.
And now, I was there, the meeting point of these two, and I found myself standing before something larger than anything I had seen before. Larger than even the divine beasts. It was Heaven and Earth themselves. In the truest sense.
The broken pieces, the fractured cycle, now they began to join and something in my soul began to heal. My vessel, a shell that now contained the two forces, instead of bursting with the two colliding powers, began to resonate, and heal, the strains on my pathways began to mend themselves.
The cycle of the world began to heal in front of my very eyes.
Power surged, harmony resonating. It was endless, seamless, from one into another. I felt Xuanwu and Qinglong, at the edge of my awareness, but they too were just parts of the greater wholes they represented, and I watched from their immortal eyes as seasons passed.
Winter faded from the world around me and spring arose, now the two in harmony, joined and working in tandem. The glow of the world began to turn again as I felt a heavy thud in my chest, as the three spirit rings of my soul began to resonate.
Chi, tenuous and unformed till now, hinged solely on the Divine tree, on the union that I had carried, now found purchase into the world itself, and became manifest. The change was immediate, and instantaneous, and all around me, I felt its rippling effects. But the cycle froze in its paths, and so did I, reminded that it was not done.
Now that I had one half, I could feel the remaining half as well. Summer, the rising peaks and the warmth that fed life, which would give way to gentler autumn, as the colder whispers of winter returned, and then, life would sleep once more, awaiting a new beginning.
That was the cycle of life. A cycle where life fed into death, and death into life. The turning of seasons was an eternal thing, but the world, though healed now, was still fractured without them. They were integral, and they were captured, imprisoned, and until they would be freed, the path I walked upon would not become complete.