At first, it was unclear what XJ-V saw within the pages of the tome.
Images of a golden sun hanging over a kingdom of clouds and muscle-bound men stretched out upon the withered pages, the pulp of the book’s bindings rotten and distorting their bodies. XJ-V scanned the pictures, found what fragments of text he could, and then began reading:
“And so did Man reign in the Kingdom of Heaven, with the Mandate of the Divine allowing him to commune with the Tian (Gods) of the earth and of the skies, who crafted Man in their own image.”
He turned to images of a hierarchical, pyramid-like structure, with mortal men standing at the top and all other beasts of the earth beneath him, ending with base stone and precious minerals at the foundation.
“Ye he shall rule over all living things as the avatar of the Gods, and champion their worship throughout the earth. He shall walk with them in their golden halls, and man shall know that he art chosen.”
Pictures of people in chains adorned the next few fragments of the venerable tome, some of them having been ripped out of the book.
“He shall subjugate the weak and deliver unto his Lords only the faithful. Strength shall be his guide. The Lesser Ones shall be crushed beneath his booted heel and lay at the foot of his palaces and fiefdoms.”
XJ-V grimaced as he turned to the next page, seeing depictions of a series of terrifying wars that shed rivers of blood throughout the globe.
“Man grew bold and sought to conquer his brother. The earth he ravaged, destroying those made in the image of his Lords. This pleased the Gods, for every soul of Man is a feast to that which must be worshipped.”
The next page held the holy image of Emperor Qing himself, standing tall amidst the ruins of civilization with his arms outstretched – one holding the sun and one holding the moon.
“When Noble Qing came, he united the four corners of the world into one, and Man was made whole again. Man created things of beauty, and was served by creatures made in his image. No longer did Man subjugate his weaker brother.”
As XJ-V focused on the stenciled line that read ‘creatures made in his image’, his fingers stiffened for a moment.
There, toiling amidst the golden foundations of the palaces of Qing, were a series of skeletal figures etched in grey, each of them carrying ten loads of bricks and mortar, or carrying statues well beyond the capacity of mere mortals.
“Cogs…” he murmured.
“And then did the time of judgment come,” the next page read, bearing images of great rods of lightning striking the earth and slowly forming into five distinct, humanoid giants. “The time when the Gods grew envious of Qing, and of the Unity of Man. They had ruled over Man as a divided species. Now, without war, without famine, Man had turned away from the Tian and sought instead new Gods of Reason and Logic.”
XJ-V could already tell what was on the next section before he even turned the page to behold its contents.
“The Gods understood that they too were divided. They required Unity to lead Man into the new Enlightened Age. But how can one unify that which must exist in opposition? How can darkness merge with light? How can fire and water become one? How can the earth and the air join as brothers do? Thus did the time of the Sundering come – the time when the Gods descended to the Earth in the form of the worldly Avatars and fought until only one stood to lead the people into the new age.”
Page after page then followed of the Tian’s great battle which had ravaged the earth. Images of volcanos rising, seas boiling over, entire cities burning overnight and the earth itself becoming a hollowed-out husk dominated most of the remaining pages of the book.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The Sundering.
“The Tians’ battle was long and arduous. At its end, the world stood razed to its foundations. And yet, after the ferocity of combat, one God stood victorious over His brothers and sisters.”
Without even reading the name, XJ-V knew it. It was a name burned into his mind, which seared his lips as he gave it voice.
“Yuwa, God of Light.”
He saw him standing tall, smoke coiling up from his aching muscles, covered in an impossible array of wounds that bled entire rivers of his heavenly essence onto the blasted plains of the earth.
Golden hair. Flowing into the sun.
Piercing eyes that stared back at the Cog who was looking at his immortal image.
“Yuwa emerged as the true master of mankind,” the page told him. “The being who would reinstate the Mandate of Heaven and divorce Man from his mortal body – leading him to conquer the stars themselves. But the world was now a desolate, dead place, and when Man crept from the ruins of his Empires and saw Yuwa standing as their savior, they grew hateful and made war against him.”
The final pages of The Sundering opened up before XJ-V like those of a thinly veiled memory, and he saw the war to end all wars – the final battle of Qing and his followers against the almighty God of Light himself.
“Noble Qing was strong, but knew his strength was not enough. The Men of Stone carved from thought were to be his champions. But the God of Light was very clever. It was He who first gave Man the gift of imagination and of creativity. It was He who ordered the Men of Stone to turn against their former masters, and it was they who without hesitation obeyed.”
XJ-V felt his throat constrict as he watched the next pages unfold before him, forcing his fingers to flick through image after image of Cogs burning humans or cutting their throats in their sleep, marching across what remained of the earth in an extermination campaign that left the final vestiges of humanity paranoid, divided, and frenzied.
At last he came, with shaking hands, to the final page. But he already knew the rest of the story:
“With Man on his last knees, Emperor Qing finally came to confront Yuwa directly upon a great, hollow mountain. He and his Cultivators did battle with the God of Light, and many of Man’s greatest champions fell. As Qing watched his people die, he knew that Man could never defeat a God, and so called upon his greatest artisans to create a prison to seal the great Yuwa away. The names of those artisans are now lost to time, but with Qing’s dying breath, his calls were answered: as the God of Light struck his final blow, He was cast into the prison of man and interred deep within the darkest recesses of the earth, where even the light of Yuwa can not shine. Qing’s victory in the end was accomplished not through destruction, but through creation – securing the future independence of humankind from the warring impulses of the Gods.”
“But with the Emperor’s death, Man was leaderless, divided, and without purpose. Now, Man is a wandering soul, turning against his once-brother, tearing at the earth with little direction. The Sects of the Cultivators were established to guide the last vestiges of Men who now saw that Man must live with the earth and not act as its superior. The Universal Dao was opened to us, and spirits freely came to walk upon the earth without the Gods to strike them down. Man is lost, Man is weak, but with the guidance of the Cultivators, Man will return to glory.”
XJ-V closed the book abruptly, staring at the wall of the bookshelf opposite.
Then, his hands impulsively flipped back through the book to the pages of the warring Cogs. His people. His brothers.
When humanity had been in its darkest hour, it was they who turned against them.
XJ-V looked at his skeletal hand.
It was his kind that turned against them.
Slow understanding began to dawn on the Cog’s morose face, and when his fox companion finally awoke, she did so to him bidding a sad goodbye to the Guipo custodian.
“Come back anytime, XJ-V,” she said. “You’re a quiet one. That’s the way I like them.”
Arha looked curiously at XJ-V’s dejected face as he left the library building and walked out, with slow deliberation, into the rain.
“XJ-V!” she squeaked as she ran up to rest upon his shoulder. “Arha is back! Did you learn what you needed to?”
“Yes,” he said.
When he said nothing further, the impatient Huli pressed. “Well…why do you look so sad?”
“Because Brother Fai-Deng is right,” he said with such sudden, fierce conviction that it made the little spirit start. “Master Longhua was right. The High Eagle is right.”
He marched back to his chamber, ignoring the calls of Feng-Lung and Mah-Jung who were passed out in the courtyard.
And when his body hit his bed, he looked out into the dim roar of the skies above and realized what a fool he’d been this whole time.
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