The sky was bright, yet Hao felt like he was stuck in the mine.

He checked his neck first. He remembered the sensation of the needle, but no mark remained.

What the hell was that? Hao thought. He was not entirely unfamiliar with experiencing death, at least in illusion, in thought or memory. He thought he was growing numb to it; his piled bones and scattered flesh were his only companions while he worked many days in the mine. But just now, he felt the cold and saw the world fading. I’m dead, no?

He couldn’t be; there was no wound. No blood, no smell or taste — No, no… it was there, filling his nose, climbing up his tongue—Pooling in his throat. He could feel it coagulate, jelly wiggling, stuck in his neck, bouncing with each slight movement.

Hao was already kneeling, looking down over the edge towards the abyss. He suddenly lurched. The death he felt at the hands of The First Elder left him with no throat, only indignation. This time, he could, and he had to get that feeling out of his system. He gagged twice. Only clear water spilling from his mouth and nose, not the slightest hint of red; no blood.

Can I even trust my own mind here? The thought was beyond sickening.

He had to pull his head away from the sight below. The abyss was stealing his breath. Having to find something familiar, not more water. He left the Island. He could stand on land now, not surrounded by people who wanted to mock, or use him—or…

He spun his head hard, looking back, to see the world behind, to see the maze’s exit. Yet, there was no such thing, just the waist-high gate he passed as he left the bamboo grove. It was hard to not think about, but Hao pushed it out of his mind.

He closed his eyes, trying to gather the situation. Breathing slowly to catch his breath, he locked his emotions away the best he could. Right now, he needed his mind, not his racing heart.

He had to, and he wanted to go forward. Calmed, his thoughts organized themselves.

The first thing he noticed was the fatigue or lack thereof, his open wounds from his climb gone, but his fingernails were still broken and torn. How much has been real since approaching that wall?

Hao already hated this experience. The climb was tiring, and the aptitude test got him ridiculed—Was the aptitude test real—But being unable to trust himself made him knock the dust off his robe, and make sure he had the bag he always carried.

He looked out forward, lifting his head. The sight made him wish he could lower his head again. But he wouldn’t allow it. He knew if he did, he would never lift it again.

Under the Sun, unmoved by time, just a little after the downfall of noon. A path of floating stone discs stretched out in front of him. High above the abyss that pulled his eyes; a hole where water from every side flowed. The deafening sound of waterfalls crashing, echoing from below, was the only proof it had a bottom. Hao looked closely, seeing the deep blue water, still, but not lifeless, deeper than he could see.

Three stone pillars, much larger than the others, reached the bottom, touching the water, then swam deeper into the emptiness of the pit, a cage-like abyss.

Did that path from the bamboo grove always lead here?

The path is always unpredictable. Hao heard a voice speaking from the wind, an elderly man, echoing in his head, louder than the waterfalls. He stood to look around, but saw no one.

Then his foot lifted on its own and reached out as if the action was decided long ago.

Before Hao knew it, he was on the first stone. The thin, rough, round, grey sheet was the only thing keeping him from falling. Hundreds stretched to the other side of the abyss in front of him. The three large pillars broke them into groups. A small building in the distance.

There is nothing to do but take a step. Hao’s feet moved before his mind.

The world melted once again. There was nothing in the void.

Step: Hao joined the water temple and returned to the Island to take over as the monk on the little Islands Temple. Dying of old age.

Step: A tall woman with golden hair stood in a field of flowers. Her clothes of cloth and leather, a large scar on her lower stomach. She held a long pipe in her hand, billowing smoke. She crouched, closing the eyes of the still-chested old man on the ground in front of her. “Every Step is in the same direction—Forward.” She walked in large steps. Hao didn’t get to see her face.

Step: Hao failed to join the water temple but stayed in the town. He found an inn and begged for food and a place to stay. The keeper took pity on him, but his daughter, Ānlè, forced Hao to work. Hao stayed long, getting eight silver a month, half of it went to the Island. The Inn keeper died, and Hao tried to fill the hole he left, but he was an awful cook; his only use was menial labor, buying goods, cleaning, pulling in guests. His twenties were passing, and he married Ānlè, and as her belly grew, they decided they would pass the Inn to their child as soon as they were an adult and leave to see the World together. A dream they wanted to share before the inevitability of parting…

Step: A body covered in brown dust, wearing a red-stained robe, was lying in a tunnel, a white stone and a pickaxe in his hands. Rot had already started.

Hao was only halfway to the first pillar. The paths he did not take trying to pull him back, slowing him. Hao gripped his head; it was not as bad as before.

“Is this some game? Are you showing me false fates to scare me?” Hao shouted. At who he didn’t know.

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The ground moved before Hao’s eyes. He was now on the large stone pillar, then plunk! He fell into a void.

A string, broken and fraying, filled his vision in the lightless dark.

Hao heard the voice of a young girl. “Are the strings you are talking about, fate?”

“Haha! You are creative—No, it’s a good question. But no, the string is just an eventuality. All mortal life is born to and ends at that eventuality. Threads are aspects of the being, the paths. Fate… I must admit, I know very little. It is every thread in every string, in a river of strings; that flows endlessly to and from the Great Sea.” The old voice ripped through the void. Painting images with his voice.

“To start cultivation your break and fray your string. Cultivation is trying to force a thread out of the river and leap to it. Cultivate to build a greater string from it, walking above the river, seeking a place above the Great Sea.”

The sun was in the same spot; yet to move since he climbed the wall to the grove. Hao gasped for air.

He stepped forward, holding his head down while his head was reeling, his foot on the second stone before he knew it.

Crack: A young man was on a stage, holding a knife in the air, the Elders watching. One elder praised him, growing smug. Before he made the young man kowtow to the First Elder. The knife wielder cut off the heads of regal men and women.

Crack: The First Elder, entered the mine to the sound of stones exploding in the wall as he passed them. Even the pillar in the center exploded into shards. He leaned over Hao’s body, picking up the Source Stone. It turned to dust in his hands before he pushed through the wall. Finding the treasure that lay just within. A drop of blood leaked from his finger, landing on the stone. Laughter shook the tunnel, covering the body with brown dust.

Crack: The First elder bound the second elder with golden energy. The second elder had her sleeve torn off. She was calling and out begging to an old man. The old man and Senior Ya were falling from the sky, the First Elder looking down from above. A red cloud stretched to the sky behind him.

Crack: The first elder, with the treasure above him declaring his sovereignty, burning all below him, the second elder lifeless eyes still holding despair. The First Elder held the treasure aloft, but it escape his hands falling to the ocean.

The sun was unmoved. Hao held his head, just a few steps away from the second stone pillar.

“Why show me such things, this is no trial but torture, do you enjoy this… Well!?” Hao screamed into the air, his body shaking, facing growing pale.

Another large pillar below him, he stood at the epicenter, the loud waterfalls drowning out all sound. Silence took over, plunk!

The scene was no longer a void, but countless strings all flowing in a single direction; Hao swam through them. One in a thousand frayed threads breaking free, some broke the moment they were released, others stretched beyond what Hao could see, most sat between. A few had their ends burned away.

A younger man asked this time, the calm version of his question. “Do trials prove the string is broken?”

“A good, good question, but silly at the same time. Even mortals face trial. Mortality itself may be a trial. Perhaps that makes us who cultivate for Immortality weaker than those who accept death. All things face trial after trial. But trials beyond mortal means may prove you have started to walk a thread free of the river,” the old man spoke, uncertain in his speech.

The sun was unmoved. Hao released his head. Shoved from behind. No one was there.

His foot landed on a thin gray stone with a crash of thunder, a haunting sound to one who lived stuck in the Ocean. A rumbling that shook the hardest mind.

Crash: A woman with black hair, stood in front of a grave. A little girl at her side with hair of black and gold. “Mama, why did Daddy say he wanted to sleep next to Big Brother even though he’s not here?”

Crash: The little girl had grown up standing in front of three gravestones, the leftmost read ‘Shui-Yang Hao, left home to contribute, earned his parents’ name many times over.” The girl did not know the man whose name was on the grave but still brushed the dust and salt off it.

Crash: On the brightest day, water reached for the sun, the treasure lost to the sea pulling it further. The first moon peeked into the sky, the treasure fell, and the water followed. A wave rose, tearing apart the sky. The woman washed the graves again. Children of her own helping.

Crash: They were helpless against the Wave. The three graves and her mangled body slammed against the land, the wave did not stop dragging millions to sea. It took pieces of land with it, the land it left behind soaked in salt.

The sun was unmoved, Hao did not reach for his head, he was already at the third pillar, and at the end just a few stones in front of him, the small building from before, a palace that stretched to the sky.

He looked down, the abyss of water, a cage without escape below, rippling as he twisted his face. It’s impossible.

“I’ll drain the sea if I must!” He reached for the back of the bag that carried the stuff he promised the Second Elder. The bag was stained purple-red with berry juice; he ripped it off his back and threw it into the air. “Do you want me to be a monster, you bastard?” Hao shouted.

The pillar under his feet disappeared, and he fell. Falling toward the abyss. Touching the water. Sinking toward the empty, Hao tried to swim up, never ascending.

Then eyes, great impossible monolithic eyes, beings that match their size, countless shapes in the dark began to stir. Hundreds of eyes, no thousands, more opened and stares locked on Hao, their grotesque limbs, shapeless hands, reached, pulling without touching.

He fell deeper in his struggle to get away futile. A voice came, a gurgle, deep in its roaring throat, a drum in the movement of its tongue. “If fate and man label me a monster, can a thread free me from that name?”

“The River does not label, the string doesn’t know truth, only its ends. A single thread does not determine who you are, neither does the current string. Fate doesn’t have that power over mortals born. Only you do. You determine the thread, you build the string, not the other way around.”

“Dreams were before mortal birth, mortals brought dreams to the Dao, ambition bloomed, the myriad races now determine fate.” — Hao’s voice bubbled with the old man.

Hao could just see threads above the river, clashing and climbing, before all went dark.

The sun was unmoved. Hao found himself standing halfway across the last of the floating stones. His heart raced and his feet moved with his heart.

Beat: Hao held the First Elder’s head in his hands. A tyrant and villain hated by all, a beast who killed his Senior.

Beat: Hao became the benevolent sovereign, his treasure behind him, protecting the people and the world. Eventually, Indulging in hedonism.

The sun was unmoved. Hao found himself on land, his back in the dirt, and behind him was a bamboo door. No stones, no pillar, no hole.

“So you made it this far. You’re better than I thought.”

Hao looked at the source of the voice. The Second Elder was wearing the blue and white dress she was wearing before.

“Where is it, the stones, the cage of water?” Hao asked. “Was any of it real?”

“So that is what you think of water; as a cage island boy.” The Second Elder leaned down toward Hao, “No one knows, but does it matter? Not many people have been here, just you have made it this far in many years. But it’s not over; remember to ring the bell. First, relax for a moment.”

Hao tried to keep his eyes from wandering even harder when she crouched down, bending close to him.

The Second Elder placed her hands on his face and pulled Hao’s face towards hers. Hao could see a lot of what he shouldn’t look at. Hao’s heart continued to race as she pushed her face forward. He did the same, unsure of where it would lead.

The purple-red bag he threw into the air went through the Second Elder striking Hao in the stomach.

The sun had moved, and late afternoon had arrived when Hao sat up. He slung his bag back over his back. His biology was acting up.

Hao looked around. No one was around, the bamboo grove just behind, no stones, no pillars, no hole.

What the hell is going on? He was mentally exhausted, but his body was unmarked, only a few fingernails cracked and broken.

What is that cheering? Hao stood, his body was now relaxed, his sword no longer ready for battle.

Not far off was a stage. A young man his age in a fancy silk robe was holding a knife aloft on a stage. A crowd clapped and cheered before he placed the knife in his belt. A person covered in cuts was being carried off the stage.

Hao turned away. He was not done yet. In front of Hao was a staircase leading down, then back up, a fair distance away, a bell on the other side.

Hao held his head, wishing he could forget most of what he saw. Take the first jump down the oversized stairs.