Chapter 9 (Patreon)

9. To Her, in the Past.

"The Followers of the Way renounce every home,

like swans taking off from a lake."

- Pi Li, foremost disciple of Shunryu.

The old smell of dust wafted past her nostrils. She opened her eyes and looked side to side. This wasn't the cave. A gruff floor and broken walls had made way for polished tiles rising further up than she could see. Was this some sort of tower? Bookshelves filled to the brim populated the sides of the 'room' she was in. Crackling sounds behind her made her turn around.

A large hearth containing a raging inferno sat near the back, and on top was fastened a statue. Two long arms gripped the ends of the fireplace's support base as if to push back against gravity. A pair of curved horns jutted out of its skull while its eyes stared right into Niva's soul. She broke eye contact near immediately, heart pounding out of her chest. What the heck is that thing? Walking backwards, she tried to create some distance but slipped on a parchment scroll.

"Au," she rubbed her buttocks. Had no one taught the owner of this building that littering was frowned upon?! Gosh.

The clang of metal on metal floating down the stairs to her left echoed through the entire space and made her jump to her feet. Footsteps. Not descending the staircase but moving away from the source. Interesting. Had that been to get her attention, or had her falling down scared someone? Or something, she thought, peeking back at the demonic figure. Her eyes widened. The thing was smiling. Niva was sure it hadn't been two seconds ago.

So, stay in the room with the creepy demon, or head upstairs into the unknown? Better the devil she knew than the one she didn't. That was a reasonable thought. However, an ever more sensible idea would be that she should choose neither and try to find an exit. Unfortunately, she wasn't a rational person.

Trudging up the stairs, she ran her hands along the stone walls. Every few steps up were marked by a painting of men and women in neck-high coats or dresses. Funnily enough, they had the same skin colour as herself, though that's where the similarities ended. She reached the second floor. There was nothing here except a brass door with lines she could make neither heads nor tails. She placed her hands on it.

"Ouch!"

She jerked back, looking at her hand. The damn thing had stabbed her! Well, 'pricked' was more appropriate since she only saw a speck of blood. Still, it had hurt her!

Click.

"Hmm?"

Her eyes moved back toward the door, specifically toward the doorknob. It had made a clicking noise. Did that mean she should…doing so would be the height of stupidity, the logical part of her brain reprimanded her. Going up the stairs was one thing. However, it was common sense not to enter a door that just hurt you. Indeed. Her brain was right, she thought, nodding as she turned the handle.

There was only one place for the previous sound to have disappeared to. The handle didn't move at first, and only after placing her entire weight behind it did the door open, not making a single sound as it did.

Sanguine pearls covered the entire room, their hue washing over Niva like a tide of blood. Shaped like a chapel, a red carpet paved the way to what she could only describe as a titan-sized stone goddess. One hand facing up toward the heavens, the other facing toward the world, forming the gesture of fearlessness. Streaks of red danced across her sharp cheekbones, and the sceptre stuck in the ground beside her radiated an otherworldly power. She couldn't pry her eyes off the depiction, and only after what felt like an eternity did she manage to squeeze her eyes shut.

Alright. Let's not gaze at the incredibly out-of-place deity like a moron.

After once more opening her eyes and being very careful to avoid the back o the room, she spotted a raised pedestal holding a book with chains hanging down the sides. A corner of her mind screamed there was a chance she wasn't alone, but she ignored it, walking down the aisle with a steady gait. The lock the chains had been fastened to lay open, now but an ornament latched on the centre of the tome.

Rana, Giver of Life, Eternal Queen of the Old Blood.

She removed it from the dais. Heavy. That was her first impression. For, just by holding it in her hands, she could feel the weight of it. No, not the physical aspect of weight. The spiritual part. It grounded her in place, her body load seeming to double. The door behind her fell shut, but she remained entranced, her fingers trembling as they moved to glimpse inside its covers.

A hand dug into her shoulder, breaking her out of her reverie.

"You are not ready."

Riu looked…haggard, to say the least. His normal kempt appearance was sloppy, his robe hanging loose at the shoulders, and the bun he had fashioned his hair into was ripe with strands poking out.

"Ready for?"

"Everything." He lowered her hands, placing the book back on the pedestal. "Follow me," he said and strode off without warning.

"What? Can you—"

But Riu was already out of the door, so she hurried to catch up. The two walked in silence up the tower, passing floor after floor before reaching the top. In stark contrast with the rest of the building, it was completely unadorned, safe for a small wooden door presumably leading outside.

Riu and Niva stepped through, and she nearly gasped.

A literal sea of blood. Even from her high vantage point, she could not see the end, spreading in all directions as it did. Moreover, it turned out they were on an island of some sort, far above sea level yet stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Sitting down on the stone balcony, Riu motioned for her to do the same.

"This is kinda…"

Going on her hands and knees, Niva leaned over the edge. The sight had caught her off-guard, keeping her from noticing it. However, there was no balustrade. A glance lasting a second was enough to make her slightly nauseous.

"You're in no danger of dying here," Riu chuckled. "Not at the moment, anyway."

Niva's brows arched up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He pointed northwest, off into the distance. There was a…crack? Ever so faintly, Niva could make out a streak of gold running across the otherwise bleak sky.

"That is?"

"A blessing, a curse, or both," he shrugged. "Depends on who you ask."

Saying nothing, she regarded him for a while. Riu always did enjoy being a cryptic ass.

"Alright, and if I were to ask you?"

His thumb stroked his chin. "Honestly, I am not sure. Never before have I seen anything like this."

"You died at eighteen," Niva reminded him. "Why do you make it sound like you've seen the culmination of the universe and beyond?"

"You'll have to take my word for it."

What word? She snorted. He always—

Hold on. She tapped her thigh. Niva wasn't an idiot: she had thought the Riu she had been seeing a figment of her imagination. Perhaps going so far as to think him her past beliefs and morals haunting her, trying to stop her from making 'bad' decisions.

However, this Riu looked real. This dream felt real, she thought, running her fingers over the terrace, the feedback telling her of its ruggedness.

"When the time comes, you will understand."

"Yeah, no."

"I've had it up to here"— Niva waved her hand over her head —"with riddles and confusing messages."

"You and I will sit here and talk about what is happening. So, I can plan my next moves accordingly."

"Alright."

Huh. That was easy.

Niva crossed her legs. "What did you mean not ready?"

Riu's teeth showed a little as he gazed at the horizon. "Fate always finds a way to upend your beliefs, even when you thought them more solid than diamond."

"You were never supposed to have access to that power or any subsequent ones."

"Supposed to?" Niva asked, the answer only confusing her more. That made it sound like someone had control over what powers she had available to her…

Riu turned, placing two fingers on her forehead. "What this will lead to, I do not know. However, if anything, remember this: the division of the soul, the illusion of separation, is the single greatest illusion of all."

Motherf—

She slumped to the ground.

…

Beyond the Father image, behind the Mother image, beyond the Dark and behind Light, there was a field — a void — where she floated. It was peaceful, in a way. The only existing reality was nothing, and there were no worries or fears. No feeble mind to be filled with regret.

How long she stayed here, she didn't know. It didn't matter. No, it never mattered and would never. The non-mind instinctively grasped it would remain here until beginning-less time if nothing changed. But things did change.

Peace never lasted.

Piece by piece, something pulled on the string flowing from her back out into the vacuum surrounding her. It was pain. Pain dragged her through the depths, scraping her body raw on the field on which she drifted.

However, it wasn't continuous. It was a tug that vanished as fast as it came, coming in bursts. It cycled. There would be pain and then peace. Peace and then pain.

And slowly but surely, the non-subconscious turned into the subconscious. She had reached the boundary — the separation between the two realms warring over her. One more pull…

…

She broke the dried saliva that had glued her lips together and screamed herself awake, not remembering ever going to sleep. But the slumber had been deep and lasting.

Much like being born and gaining consciousness…she thought. What was her name? She clenched her fingers. Nothing came to her. Instead, her brain rewarded her efforts with a splitting headache.

Understood.

Let's leave the name for what it was, then, wretched blisi, she silently cussed out her mind at the end. Hhhm. What was a blisi…a form off— her head pounded.

She sighed, licking her bleeding lips.

Very well. May she at least take in the room she was in, or was that also disallowed? The pain receded a little.

"Thank you."

Layers of velvet adorned her canopy bed. Their usage was more ornamental than for warmth, given how thin they were. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the middle of her bed-chamber was large, around fifty candle cups fitted and lit on the top, and heavy, velvet curtains covered a window in the room that must've been the size of three fully grown eels.

"Interesting."

There was a missive hovering over the humble desk beyond her feet. She shuffled from under her blanket, kept at the right temperature by an engraved inscription, and sat upright, adorning a pair of woollen bunny slippers. Cute. She'd find a way to secretly commend whoever left these here. Mother always frowned on open displays of emotion. She stood up—

"Ugh," she wailed, immediately sagging back down.

A soul-tearing sting burst alive in her lungs. Gripping one of the pillars of her bed for support, she bent over, translucent drops reflecting the orange hue in the room running down to her neck.

Only after the clock's minute hand struck five times did she force herself to stand. She staggered but took it slow. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

"You can do this."

Step by step, like the mantis stalking the cicada through stalks of grass in the plains, she made her way over to her bureau. The envelope was waxed closed.

"Au!" she yelped after trying to flit her nails in the groove between the layers of paper, retracting her fingers as if burned. She carefully ran her right thumb over her other fingers. Why were her nails so irritated? Even only lightly pressuring them hurt.

As always, her old friend, Headache The Worst, made itself known when she stood still in contemplation, and she resumed the task at hand. One of the drawers contained a small knife, which she used to open the letter.

Dear Princess Misha Azania—

Misha Azania…yes. That was her name, but it also wasn't. Strange.

When you are ready, please come meet me at the Lake of Reflection.

From your most humble servant,

Ruko.

Discovering she had a servant left a tingle in her belly yet that was standard for royalty, wasn't it?

Misha's — the name she would use until she made sense of this entire situation — eyes reread the missive, taking in the location. It had been tinged with qi, and she saw it in her mind, immediately knowing where it was.

Her gaze returned to the letter when the entire message, except for the location, whisked out of existence, the ink disappearing in a cloud of white.

"This. All of this is the problem of tomorrow's Misha."

Then she went back to sleep.