Chapter. 2 A past in shadows

Wei Zhiruo had spent most of her life like a rootless duckweed – afloat a seamless dream; seldom stopping to refrain her heart and listen to its quiet voices or to its urgent protests. As a result, when silence did dawn upon her, by chance and by good fortune, she was left overcome with resounding discomfort, fixed stiff in speechlessness.

As the only child of her father, with a crown to claim – more than that, a dream to fulfil; a dream that had been dreamt by so many souls, and by so many minds that its brevity was only more obvious, its enamor all the more grievous – a life with only her own wants and needs, that was completely foreign to her.

"Is this to be my will...father?"

“Will it as you ought, Amaranthus. As the future empress – no – rather, as the last seed of our waning bloodline, you cannot be selfish. No, you cannot just think of yourself. You must dedicate your life to regain us hope, my Child. And I know I ask a lot of you, but you should also be aware that since your Awakening, you ceased to be just a mere crown princess to us, to our kingdom. Now, your duties lie elsewhere. It's in revitalizing our dying world—” A soft, apologetic voice reverberated, along with a soft clicking sound of chess pieces hitting the board.

“Why me?”

Because an oracle had sentenced her to that fate, he told her. Right on the day she was born, she was declared the ‘key’ to restore magic in her dying world – inside Cuiping which had started to become a fading world of mortals; she was a boon sent by the Goddess of Hope.

How would she do that? No one knew. But she must be able to do something and that was the most common belief of everyone. And by everyone, she meant literally, everybody in her world— be they her clansmen, or all the people of her Forgotten Kingdom, or those of the vast oceans and lands full of magical clans like her own; everywhere where she was made famous by the Oracle, she was renowned as the "Saintess Reborn".

Growing up, she had heard of this grandeur of her fate endlessly. Of its wonder and how much luck she had because of who she’d become in the future – a hero, a savior remembered for ages unknown. She was to be the only hope – a hope for her clan, as well as all the people inside her kingdom alike. A hope which could bring them out of their senseless mortality and make them all Immortals again – place them at a pedestal from where the horizon would never shrink, and where the day would in its glory and glamor encapsulate power and eternal life for all and that, for eternity.

Everyone had a share in this unfathomable dream. Maybe, in the beginning, she might have held a place in it too!

“Lies.” With eyes shut Wei Zhiruo muttered.

That hope, as it turned out, was merely a weapon in some people's hands. It became clear pretty soon, as her fate eventually became a grave matter to be best arranged by efficient, ponderous, ingenious hands, preferably of those who could also wield power. If these minds couldn't come from the clan, then it would be the turn of the world to replace them for efficiency— after all, the end purpose was to open the door to magic. Who did it, by what means to induce that final result, what did all that matter? For the greater good, every way was justified and good. How was the great ambition to be carried forth? Was she to be a part of it willingly? Where was her consent? That all seemed to be minor details in the great arrangement of things.

Wei Zhiruo stopped thinking– a desperate move to shirk humiliating memories, but unfortunately, she didn’t succeed for long. Again, some more of them floated up, making her think of them and see where it had started to rot, her life, because the cadaver she cradled in her bosoms told her it was long before the massacre of her clan.

Perhaps she'd stifled them recklessly before, or the whole day spent disregarding them had finally had its toll, several waves of reckoning ushered in a shock. Quite suddenly she felt her ears giving away, breath knocking out of her lungs and eyes dilating, her heart slowed its beat, her body weighed a thousand tons and everything shrouding her asked her to still. Crushed, she let herself fall back, wordless, over the canoe – now, floating amidst huge blooms of violet water lilies. It was painful, so painful in fact that she could only lessen its impact by ignoring it.

The flowers were blooming spectacularly. Splattered amongst lotuses of warmer hues – blossoming so sagaciously in their unaltered grace and purity, so brightly and breathtakingly in their bewitching potency, that it seemed for a moment at least, as if they were ready to transcend their mortal ties! Everything was just short of achieving a miraculous beginning – like her own life had this sweet morning.

Wei Zhiruo watched them for quite some time, lost. Those last few days of her life floated up on the surface again and again. But remembering those felt like taking in several resounding slaps on her face which kept mocking her for her confidence and lashing out at her ignorantly misplaced expectations. She'd, definitely, overestimated her own worth in those people’s eyes, or never expected the ploys hidden behind the openly shown facade of her maternal clan or who actually supported their great endeavors from behind and all this ignorance had cost her a hefty price — her life.

The revenge however, for the sake of blood of family, clan and kingdom will be achieved herewith – where her previous ways had been reasonable, what she left behind, wasn’t; her principles however weren't violated. More innocent people will get embroiled, there will be hundreds of years of wars waged, chaos and anarchy will spread like wildfire around the world as Magic gets restored, and not by some Goddess's priest of Ruze—no—there will be tyranny…grief and loss, but Ruze will be smitten to dust! Of the chosen Twelve Lords whom she gave those twelve ways to seek magic in exchange for an oath, none of them weren't self-seeking, power-hungry beasts, but that was what the curse was about. Eventually, she knew, a new world order will emerge by the end of a hundred years of tyranny, those twelve will die and roll the Era of Magic right back into their graves as her twelve Scrolls will become uninheritable treasure. But she knew too, it will be a hundred years of suffering, nonetheless.

Wei Zhiruo sat up. She folded her legs and arms in proper posture to enter meditation, and in that preparation, a glance took in her gloomy environment. In fact, it was all chance encounter that she could have even found such a spot, so well-hidden and quietly tucked between abandoned courtyards, and ghostly looking chambers and corridors. Such was the state of abandon in here that she had even spotted a pillar almost touching ground, just awaiting a simple push to come toppling down with all its roof and walls. She had never seen such a state of ruin before. Not inside an inhabited place at least.

While she observed her surroundings, Wei Zhiruo fell into silent meditation. As the air surroundings eased, however, Wei Zhiruo didn’t know how impactful her subsequent silence became. If there was a person standing by the shore at this moment, he would in all faith — after ignoring those random flickers of agony, or twinges of great forbearance that emerged on her features some times — take that child as the most fairylike observer of that beautiful nightscape and its various pleasures: sitting over a boat, washed under illusory moons silvery beams, with enchanting breezes swimming over senses…she became a symbol of everything too delicate for pursuit. Like a puddle of water reflecting the moon, which when disturbed will lose all its purity and color.

Wei Zhiruo became so immersed that she couldn't notice the time slipping. It was only when, a few hours later of deep meditation, she suddenly felt ‘outside thoughts’ start pouring inside like water filling a jar, did she move.

‘No, there’s no other way but to let them go.’

This, or she would risk suffering a brain hemorrhage. Several floodgates opened up in her mind’s barrier, pain rooted and bloomed, crushing through her core. It was sudden. Several shock waves raged through her body simultaneously and Wei Zhiruo hit the bottom boards with a thwack, falling right on the back of her head while she stifled a cry –

She really had not anticipated this overcharged, zealous sort of thrumming anxiousness!

She thought and kept thinking of all kinds of things. And all she could do for some while was think…and think some more! Jumbled bits and pieces, incoherent gibberish thoughts filled the crevices of her unaligned soul, some echoing with harsher intensity than others. If she were to escape from their clutches at this moment, she might as well have a better chance to just abandon her bodily cage! Thoughts fed her, clothed her and watered herself – drowning her in themselves. What it exacted, it echoed and with unwavering force in belief.

It wasn’t her own thoughts, however, creating such a range of chaos within – it was the vibration coming from souls and spirits surrounding her. She could only wait for it to trickle down. But before that it was painful, all white for some while and if she hadn’t been on the look-out for it, the silent night might have echoed with her resentful cry like a vengeful ghost!

Wei Zhiruo at first, had a hard time concentrating, but finally settled on one stream of thought rather than letting her mind do its thing and jumble up all sorts of information. She didn't waste much time dwelling on reasons why such an attack happened so suddenly —as she had guessed it must have something to do with her act of stifling them—she immediately started directing and structuring them again. A barrier needed to be forged, thoughts riveted in all directions reigned and weaved. Finally, she had to seize control – in doing that, however, she filtered images from her past life, shrugging away memories attached to them or the thoughts that floated on the surface.

All those secret liaisons, holed up meetings with her loyal friends, or some moments spent under the warm light of her father’s magnificent library - a piece of her heaven…

Or a much warmer image of herself, sitting on a terrace basking in the sunlight of a clear autumn day, brushing her fingers in white fur…a leaf fell, and she looked up and someone close to her said- “And what about tea? Won’t you have some of that?”

She couldn’t recall if she had agreed or not, or just sat there lingering in the soft sunlight, and let that peace fill her up to her brims. But this sudden image stuck in her mind. She forgot to breathe. Then, as if nothing had changed, she kept searching and discarding, weighing this one and then next one, over and over again she forged a river inside her mind, with just her own, unfiltered thoughts and memories. Others, malformed, unfinished, meaningless, meaningful, senseless or clear ringing sentences —any thought that didn't originate within was patterned to form small brooks and rivulets, acting as branches to her main river of thoughts.

In so doing, however, many revolting faces emerged; she felt nauseated even thinking about them. Wei Zhiruo knew for a fact that all those who had driven her past madness were somewhere else, not even here. And God forbid-! If ever there was a time which brought them in front of her again…but it would never be the same. It will be long past her current suffering. It was worthless to chase a fate so clearly set in stone, right? She couldn't just go back in time and make them suffer a fate worse than death?! Could she? What she had left for them as a part of her revenge should suffice - right, right?!

Before waking up, she recalled, she was under the cursed altar of that pond in her own world. Chains abound, clutching her feet and hands dragging her down to drown in that sacrificial water like some senseless beast ready to be slaughtered. Not only pain, the shame of inevitability of all that had happened – purging of the Sangtchi clan, the mutiny after her father’s death, the enthronement of her step-brother instead of herself, or the Human council’s decision to make her a sacrifice to seek Immortality – all while no voice appeared to oppose them, no hand rose with arms to symbolize even a semblance of a protest...nothing. These wounds won't heal on their own, would they? No. But the thoughts must settle down to a silent whisper. Time will heal, like time does.

A strange song seemed to have raptured amongst the night wind, amongst the grasses by the shore, and by the leaning willow’s tresses; as if resounding with her wandering thoughts it rippled seamlessly and fed to her soul, easing some of its burden. The breeze felt sweeter with the gentle voice of rippling water, the moonlight – like a heady mead. Wei Zhiruo glanced at the shore, her eyes a little less cold, while her thoughts settled down from their furious rampage. She remained silent like that, enjoying the medley of nature playing its perfect tunes.

'Jinghai was it?', she wondered.

The people called it that. A small settlement of some thirty thousand people. She had counted the heads and was almost sure of that. She didn’t know much about other things – but the rain filled much of her first impressions. The continuous rain from morning to dusk had been a nuisance, as well as a strange phenomenon inside her mind. Its humidity, the mourning in the air – a strange melancholy that comes accompanying the shower, rooted in no time, had slipped down to her bones. Each of these sensations was new. Whether she liked it or not, she couldn't form an opinion right away, but it was a change she could deal with.

Tonight, the rain had finally stopped. The night sky was uncharacteristically clear. The several weeks of downpour had grumbled down. From rolling mists and tumbling gray clouds, its majestic rage had softened to an amiable shower at noon and then, like a bad-tempered friend on his grumpy day off, it had swiftly flown off to distant lands, carried along by distant winds, in some delirium of an adventure, perhaps.

On his leave, though, the weak sun had certainly dried off some of the earth’s surface back to its original appearance. Yet some bespattered weeds and swamps of wetland, wet corners remained here and there. Some carriages carried by grumpy horses could still, by ill-fortune of their master or by their own good humor, find several pits of their choices to overturn into. Though such a situation was tasteless for most who met them, accidents of this kind were far from being settled down as soon as the rain stopped.

Wei Zhiruo alone had seen two carriage accidents since opening her eyes this morning. These carriages were particularly headed towards this manor, rushing along with other such five or six specially crafted carriages with elaborate emblems of clan holdings on their banners. One had overturned around the peripheries of Jinghai, while the other one had successfully driven off somewhat nearer to the town gate, and then deftly closed towards Wei mansion but collapsed horrifically with an oncoming carriage.

There was a great fuss at first. The mansion and its vicinity, buzzing with onlookers of every kind and nature had caught her attention for some time, especially the hullabaloo and festive shock that the accident caused in its surroundings. That was something new. She had observed them, the crowd, as some servants had waited and welcomed guests inside the manor, while some others had run around to arrange for a rescue and look after the terror-struck occupants who had escaped, fortunately, unscathed.

“Strange day,” Wei Zhiruo surmised, a little light heartedly, recalling the faces of some peculiarly dressed men in humble clothes and their guffawing faces as they pointed straight at noble men in clearly superior clothing and air, who lay smattered in mud, with noisy chatters of crowd and neighing of an angry horse in the background. Then shaking off these amusing scenes from noon, she started looking around wherever her consciousness could reach at present.

In her past life, her Spiritual consciousness had once covered even her whole nation when she wanted it to. But since her soul was wounded, she didn’t think it could cover that much right now. Maybe after she picked up her previous cultivating techniques, it would heal on its own. But that would take very, very long mortal years…she might even die before she saw it recover, she feared.

Her Spiritual Consciousness reached to the visible peripheries of nearby mountains, she had heard, being called the Mysterious Mountains. Although she did map out this complex town of Jinghai, with its many gatherings and peculiar architecture in the day, she hadn’t tried to see what actually lay outside the fortress very carefully. There were several village settlements nearby in the suburbs, which she knew from first impression, but there was also a forest stretching out in the west from the rim of the northern mountains, she hadn’t taken note of that at all. The mountain range itself was majestic; cradling the whole valley in a crescent-moon like shape: it stretched in the north and all the way down the east, into the south cradling the town and the villages alike. It was a vast region, sprawling several thousands of kilometres with mountains, rivers and forest making it a very beautiful place to be at.

Actually, in such moments of thoughts exploding in her head, those thoughts dared not leave her sight and she of them, but in the midst of this tussle for power and sovereignty between themselves, she usually tried to find a distraction to ease some of those ravenous observations and stop thinking of at least some things, stop some images from haunting her endlessly. As such she didn’t feel that she was wasting her time in fancifully chasing a fish. Such moments were always worthwhile, like now, she saw a school of silver-scaled carps jumping out over a reflection of the moon - what a beautiful sight!

In the mirror-like water filled fields of suburb, many small fish and their fries had imperceptibly broken into hinterlands. Seeing them, she was unconsciously reminded of some more memories from home.

Once, and only once, she had got the chance to observe them – her human subjects from up close. The human in their breast, the culture and traditions of their humble selves, and the strange pride and vanity that divided them into groups – she had found their children to be the most peculiar of the bunches. Their innocence was fresh and warm, follies and trickery refreshing; so, unlike her own surroundings was this small visit that she had started to unravel all of her previous life. Finding such children, who used to be delighted by the simplest of gifts and rejoiced in its easy gains — particularly when the bounty had anything to do with hunting, climbing trees or catching bird’s egg from the trees of their liking, frolicking in nature's will and arms, pushed her to question which part of her life had been illusions formed by others and which...things she wanted to achieve herself.

Wei Zhiruo felt that the coming morning, with its warmer hues and softer showers and its uncountable promises of goods in form of warmer sunlight – in all likelihood was going to welcome a hoard of children and all of them eagerly ready, prancing and rushing about those muddy waters in no time. They will be eager to catch some fish.

‘The world is brimming with vitality, and yet strangely the spring is so far away,’

Wei Zhiruo couldn’t help but sigh, as her spiritual senses swept over the farmers in their earthen hot beds, curled to early comfort. There were archers up in the high towers of the city fortress with their longbows polished and ready to move, gazing with their hawk-like gazes in ponderous doubts. And also, those stiffly clothed guards yawning and scrunching their faces, walking around the town gate unbothered. Every one of them appeared unaware of the other and of her. Yet the moonlight was mellow and all embracing.

Watching them, Wei Zhiruo remembered her own time before Awakening. She was young, the memories albeit a little vague, were still in good enough state for her to assess them. It was a pleasant time, to say the least, when her own mind hadn’t been so noisy, so full of ‘thoughts’. When it was nothing but clueless and in keeping of great calm – although it was unflinchingly separated from the harmonies of the world, from its secret talks bubbling all around her, its reiterated joys and humble hymns that could be heard even in rustling winds; they were in no way as suffocating. She was unable to watch or hear the budding growth of a plant, or marvel at the churning of water and its majestic runes, or swirls of the cloud and its magical rules or hear what they took of themselves and the rest of life and death – she was also not stifled under their overbearing presence. Just like now – she was drowning in them!

Despite all that, she felt she was very lucky to have this ability. Having eyes that could see natural rules and runes and observe secrets of heaven and earth was not common. Even in her world, with endless tales of magical abilities and physiques that people could be born with, she had never found another soul having abilities as her own. Later, when she had done reading several clan anthologies left by past ancestors, she not only lost expectations of ever finding another person like herself, but she also found that feeling what both inanimate and animate things thought, was near to an impossibility. The realm of spirits was untouchable by living – and the one’s who easily tarried in either, taking in impressions from every layer of living, dead and in between creatures – that was impossible for anyone not a God-like being themselves. In the end she had taken this ability of hers as a kind of reversion to the past ancestors innate ability– from a time when ancestors roamed the space unheeding to life rooted in civilization. That was the closest explanation she had ever found.

“Perhaps it became worse," Wei Zhiruo mumbled, “because I changed back into a human?” But in the past when she was a human, there were none of these pervasive thoughts clamoring all day long, right? It was bloodline Awakening that had shifted things for her…Wei Zhiruo thought confusedly.

Not wanting to go back to the confines of a cold chamber that lacked any trace of care, she distractedly thought of many things like these and grew increasingly sorrowful. Many things had changed. She couldn’t count how many things she had lost last night.

Stifled, aggrieved, she recalled those parting words of a defeated Ellail, banished to foreign soils and lamenting those tormentors to his lover who watched on as he walked to his death – she wasn’t Ellail of Sworn Shadows who would die because he lost everything, but she really felt connected to his last words.

In your lands, I stood forsaken

Deeply grooved in your barren soils

With a soul maligned and a throat cut

–with all my voices undone.

In the end, it turned out she was alone when she died, alone like a lonely sun in a vast void that seamlessly ruptured with no other stars alive or revolving around her as a witness of her doom.

“Aaah – what an enchanting night.”

It was a beautiful night. Indeed, a nightingale burst into one of the neatest of her songs, and the croaks of frogs appeared to be its accompaniment. Even pale moonlight wound its yarn and stars sparkled with unparalleled brilliance, peering through their mischievous eyes as if alluring their paramours. Even in Wei Zhiruo’s stale eyes, one could peer brilliance, like thousands of scattered fragments had made its home there — settling blue and deep forming incomprehensible patterns.

A nodding head curled up closer. With knees drawn back, her back curling into a circle, the tiny figure fell into a trembling slumber full of thoughts and dreams, lulled by the gentle swinging of the water ripples.