I entered the Bai manor courtyard, and, finding nobody there, made my way into the main hall. Something, some kind of deep emotion, weighed down on my shoulders as I stepped through the empty corridors. I could not help but feel like there was something deeply wrong about the day I had just spent. Natsuki had become my sister, the Bai family had disappeared from the face of the earth, and on top of that, there had been so many coincidences surrounding the Magistrate. In some sense it felt something like a dream. Yes. Perhaps I was dreaming.

Otherwise, how could my life be so convenient?

With every step I took I found this odd discomfort becoming heavier. But even then, I could not identify what it was. I was like a blind person grasping an elephant's leg. For a few moments I had been content to think of it as nothing more than a tree, but now my doubts weighed heavier than my conviction.

It felt like grief, but I had nobody to grieve for. It felt like guilt, but I had done nothing to cause myself guilt. It felt like regret, but I had not had enough freedom to regret my actions.

It felt like a dream, but it was not a dream.

I was utterly unsure of everything, except for one principle, the principle I had developed over the months of my revenge, my very own Dao of True Trust: if Natsuki was by my side, then all would be well. After all, she was my savior, my protector, my sister, and—

I returned to the bedroom where I had woken up. Sighing, I fell back onto the bed, though my head never hit the pillow. I looked up and saw Natsuki's face, smiling dully, looking back down at me, holding my head in her lap.

"Xue'er," she whispered, her rasping voice fluttering like the wings of a roc, "what ails you?"

"Xia-jie..."

She ran two fingers along the curve of my forehead.

"Xia-jie, is this really okay?"

"Xue'er, you are not wrong to do what you are doing. You were never wrong. Do not regret your choices. I will affirm all of them."

And yet, despite that, despite those words, I felt an overbearing sense of dread pressing down on me as I lay here, my head on her lap, within the now-empty household of the Bai family.

"But... the family..."

"They are gone. You are still here. So you must live by your will, not theirs. That is all there is to it."

And yet, the dull discomfort in my mind did not dissipate.

"I..." I felt tears dripping down along the sides of my head, back along my zygomatic bones, through and into the crevice behind my ears. "I don't know what to do..."

"You should go and accomplish your dream. Finalize your affairs in this sordid city, and then go out into the world and do whatever you want to do."

"But... do I really have the right to do that?"

"You have the right to do whatever you wish. That is your freedom. That is the freedom I guarantee you."

I raised my hand aimlessly into the air, and to my surprise, Natsuki reached forth and wrapped my hand in hers, the warmth of her skin breaking through the mild winter's chill. I saw, only now, that she was no longer wearing her old pitch-black gloves. Instead I saw the five radial tendons running smoothly along the back of her hand, raised like the little hills of dirt you pile over lines of cultivated potatoes to prevent them from turning poisonous. For a moment I wondered if I could be said to be one of those little seeds. Without her guidance, where could I ever have gone? Where could I ever possibly go?

"I feel like... it would be wrong of me to..."

"Xue'er. I have observed you humans for a long time, so I can say this with some confidence. Freedom is at once the greatest necessity and the greatest poison to humans. What you feel now is very likely the weight of that poison." She paused, casting her gaze long into the distance. "Humans cannot survive the weight of freedom, so they create structures to bind themselves. They each must walk one singular unending path, contorted may it be, through an infinite nether. They choose that path of their own will, and thus it becomes their freedom, yet at the same time they cannot stray from that path, and thus it marks the death of their freedom. In this unity of antitheses they may find their Dao, whether merely for a spell or for a lifetime. Xue'er, you now have the right to carve your own path, and this may be the last true freedom you ever have. Cherish it, and then cast it away. If you do not begin walking, you will only sink deeper into regret."

It is said in some legalist texts that humans unbound by duty or dictate become corrupted and indolent. Was this the first time I was in such a state of freedom? For much of my life I had been bound to familial duty by force. Then through contract I had been bound to my revenge. And now I had a dream, but it was not yet a duty, and I did not know how to make of it a duty.

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—No, I knew how to bind myself to duty. It was rather simple. All I had to do was swear that I would seek my dream to the end. But it is not easy to swear an oath, not when you are still alive! To gaze upon the millions of paths my life might take and disdain all but one— that was too much for me! It was too difficult!

At that very moment, I understood the form of what was weighing down my heart. It was the fear of freedom! This was the weight of my freedom, the pain of choice, the fear of making a choice!

When I perceived the true form of this sensation, I also realized that this was, in fact, not the first time I had felt it. In fact, back when Bailian had suggested that I sever my filial piety from my soul, I had also felt this same fear of freedom. But I had ultimately been unable to summon the will to perform a severing, so it had not really been a true freedom, and therefore I had not really experienced a true fear. Now, though, I had true freedom. I could go to the Imperial Capital and become a scholar. I could do it all without ever looking back at the memory of those who had abused me. That was the choice I could make! And all that held me back was a whispering voice in my head, telling me that I did not have the right to leave, that I had the obligation to stay here and fulfill my duty. What duty? Perhaps it was a fragment of my sense of familial duty, a fragment of me that wished for me to return to the sect and live there half-dead, as the Bai family had ordered me to so long ago.

"Xia-jie, I... I want..."

The words formed in my throat, but advanced no farther.

She looked back down at me, her gaze thoroughly penetrating, her voice utterly silent.

"Ask and it shall be given. Seek and you shall find. Knock and the door shall open. Whatever you wish I shall grant, for I am your sister, and because you wish it so, I am your god."

She was my power. She was my justice. I had known that for a long time. And the third term to unify it all— she was my god.

With her, I could certainly venture forth into the world. I would certainly be able to strike one path among a million potentialities. All I had to do was present my words to her. That was all I needed to do.

After all, the greatest form of oath is neither contract nor resolution— rather, it is prayer. Contracts can be breached and resolutions can be broken, but a prayer irrevocably binds one to a greater force. The only reason I had survived my encounters with Wujiu and Canyue were my prayers. If I now offered Natsuki my prayers, then the path forward would become clear, in the brilliant reflection of my own words.

"I— I— I want to be—"

I could not put the words to my tongue! Ah, how easy it is to offer a prayer when you do not know who is listening. But when you understood the full weight of a prayer, the most powerful of oaths, the most binding of words, the most burdensome of commitments, then offering that prayer in full faith becomes more difficult than anything else!

"It is said that, in order to save the life of a friend, Hanuman took the great mountain Oshadhiparvata itself under one arm, and the rising sun under the other. Xue'er, if you say to the mountains to throw themselves into the sea, and you bear full faith in me, then so shall you have the power to uproot them from the earth with your own hands."

How easy it seems to utter those words, O mountains, go and throw yourselves into the sea, but in fact, those very words are heavier than the mountains themselves! No, I could not possibly give voice to such words. I did not have the certainty of mind! I did not have the absolute, unmoving will required to will the future into existence! That was why I had been unable to perform my severing, and here too, it was why I could not bind myself to my dreams now that they were real potentialities!

With her free hand, Natsuki reached down and wiped away the tears that had collected around my eyes.

"I shall wait as long as you require, Xue'er."

I do not know how long I lay there, unable to say my prayers, but at some point I drifted off to sleep in Natsuki's lap. When I awoke I was lying in bed, and when I looked to the window it seemed to be morning light that was pouring in. Natsuki was not there, but I knew full well that if I spoke then she would hear. So I did not put my wishes to my mouth, because I was still not certain of them.

I stood, and dressed myself with a change of clothes that had been left on the table. And then I was struck once again by a dull sensation in my legs, the terror of not knowing where to go. I could go anywhere I wished. I could go to the kitchen and find food, or I could go to the library and study, or I could even just wander the streets of Kangtian aimlessly if I so desired. If I had been well-adjusted, then it would take no more than a moment's whim to make that decision. But I could not decide! This freedom, this paltry freedom, was too terrifying for me!

Like a fool, I stood there before the door of the bedroom, paralyzed, for long enough that the sunlight from outside bled from a sandy yellow into a blinding white.

I can tell you what I wanted to do. I wanted to become a scholar. For many years that had been my dream. But now that I had the opportunity to step forth on that path, I found that I lacked both the certainty and the whimsy to make it my life's pursuit. If only someone could tell me, direct me, order me to go and become a scholar— then I would do it happily. But there was nobody left who would do that. The Bai family was gone, and Natsuki— she would not direct my actions unless I asked her to first!

And it was by this same cruel logic that I stood there, neither leaving nor entering the room, seemingly stuck in place until someone would ask me to move.

—Suddenly, eventually, a voice rang out from the courtyard—

"Bai Chunxue, get out here. We have matters to settle."

Though I winced at the venom in that voice, I could not help but be glad that it had called out to me, because finally, I did not have a choice.