Contributing Author: Zeusified
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Normally, Jill’s dreams were foggy and ephemeral, like hearing an old song and recalling a memory. But this dream was more than familiar. It wasn’t the first time she’d had it, but it’d never been so vivid, so concrete. It was strange, because somehow, she knew it was a dream. That wasn’t how dreams were supposed to work, was it?
She was a kid again, and her mom was defending another title. She wasn’t sure which title, but she was sure the rest of her family was tucked away in their home in Oceanside, watching the fight. Less than a quarter of a mile down the beach, she could still see the lights on inside their seaside cottage, and she imagined her dad and her uncle, drinking beers, cheering her mom on.
Her mom’s name was Jeraldine, but they called her Jeraldine the Juggernaut. As a fighter, she was unyielding. Unflinching. She was great at taking punches. She was the best at hitting back.
Jill had never been able to watch her mom box. There was something about seeing her in the ring that made her feel uncomfortable. So, whenever she fought, Jill would sneak out, search the white sand for shells, and listen to the waves as they crashed against the shore. That was where she always started, in this dream. It was where she was now. Walking along the coastline. Feeling the soft sand beneath her bare feet.
When she was fifteen, her mother hung up her championship belt and took a job as an announcer for the stadium in New City. They’d packed their bags and left Oceanside, and Jill remembered how ecstatic she was to live in the metropolis where everything important seemed to happen. Then, she learned how lonely it was to be surrounded by other people, and her excitement faded away.
Maybe that’s why I keep having this dream. Maybe it’s a sign that I should finally take a train and go back to visit Oceanside.
She missed the smell of the sea. The sound of the gulls. The sunsets and sunrises. The way the wind scattered mist into the air. She was at peace, by the water, and she’d tried to recapture that feeling in her paintings… but she was never able to get it quite right.
With a sigh, Jill stared out at the horizon and the sailboats making their way toward the shore. If this was another dream, she needed to take advantage of how real everything felt. Stepping into the shallows, she laughed as the water’s chill danced along her skin. Eager to swim, she began to run forward, splashing. When she reached the curling waves, she grinned with childlike wonder, took a deep breath, and leapt, diving into the ocean.
The current took her. She attempted to swim against it, but it was wilder than she remembered. It yanked at her, ripped her under, and tried to steal her air. Jill fought back, kicking and pulling, but she’d lost sight of the surface. Then, it grabbed her ankle, threw her, and sent her tumbling down, tumbling into something hard.
She grunted and coughed. Her body instinctively inhaled. Panicking, expecting her lungs to fill with a rush of frigid water, Jill gasped when all she breathed was air.
There was a bright blue sky above her. A mess of legs and canvas bags, wooden carts and crates, big orange-colored buildings and flags hanging from open-shuttered windows. The sound of people working, haggling, and yelling was loud and raucous.
Jill, still on the ground, scrambled back against hard stone and packed dirt, before stumbling to her feet–only to be knocked back down. She got up again, realized she was caught in the mix of a bustling crowd, and tried to steady herself as she brushed shoulders with lizardmen and elves, humans and dwarves, elementals and beastkin.
This is far too detailed to be a dream. What’s going on?
Confused and lost, she tried to apologize. Her “Sorry!” and “Excuse me!” and other niceties were met with angry glares, scoffs, and verbal daggers, like “Take another step and I’ll punch your dantian so hard your ancestors will turn to ash!” or “Do not mistake me for your Elder Brother, little worm.”
If it were any other time, Jill knew she would’ve been too scared, too uncertain, to act. But she’d just escaped from a pair of poetic hitmen. She’d sped through New City on a badass motorcycle. She was a different Jill than the shut-in, work-from-home artist she’d been before, and she wasn’t about to curl into a corner and try to disappear.
When the hissing, eight-foot-tall python-man jabbed a finger into her sternum to shove her out of his way, she didn’t back down. She kicked away her fears, her doubts, and straightened herself up to her full, unintimidating five-foot-four height.
Come on, Jill, she thought to herself. Don’t let this legless lizard push yourself around. For once, be like Mom. For once, fight back. It doesn’t matter if this is or isn’t a dream. If you’re going to change, it needs to start now.
Jill didn’t notice the crowd parting. She didn’t notice how she was wearing sapphire silk robes, or how they whipped about in a sudden gust of wind. She didn’t notice the people leaning out their windows, the expressions of humor and interest on passing faces, the bets, the whispers, the laughter.
None of it mattered.
“Move, insect,” the snake-man hissed.
What would Jeraldine the Juggernaut do?
Jill stepped in closer, lifted her chin, and smirked, channeling all the cold-blooded menace and tenacity she could muster. She reached up, then jabbed her own finger into the creature’s crimson tunic, slamming it into his scales with every ounce of force and power at her command.
“Or what, you overgrown garden snake? You think you can just shove me around because you’re bigger than me? I’ll show you who you’re messin–”
She didn’t see what happened next. She didn’t even have time to reflect that, perhaps, she’d put a little too much heat into her words. Somehow, she was soaring fifteen feet above the crowd, cartwheeling at a terrible speed, and heading directly toward the wall of a sandstone building with a big sign on it that read, “Elixirs of Potency!”
Nice one, Jill. Way to go, you’re going to die. At least you finally stood up for yourself.
Before her body turned into a human pancake, a deft hand plucked her out of the air, spun her around, and planted her gently on her feet. She felt the same hand dust off her shoulders. Then, the world decided to right itself, and Jill held a hand up to her mouth to hold back her horrified stomach.
“Oh my,” a kind, deep voice said. “Truly, that was a close call.”
As Jill’s perception of gravity returned to normal, she looked up to see the concerned, wrinkled face of an old man. He was wearing messy, white robes covered in all sorts of different colored paints. His hair was styled in a perfect, spherical afro, one that seemed to bob with a mind of its own.
“O-okay,” Jill mumbled. “What is happening? Is this real? This… I was dreaming, wasn’t I? Now I’m here, and there are lizard and snake people and all these other things… this has to be a mistake. It’s a mistake, right? I’m going to open my eyes, wake up, and it’s just going to be another day.”
The old man knelt down next to her. She realized her hands were on her knees and she was nearly hyperventilating. She met his eyes. They twinkled with boundless joy and curiosity.
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“There are no mistakes in life, child. Only happy accidents. This ancient one is called Babu Ra’Oz. Who might you be?”
“I-I’m Jill. Jill Justice. Where am I?”
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Babu Ra’Oz said. He turned, motioning to the buildings and hubbub around them. “This is Grand Orange Jubilee City. But I do not believe that is the answer you’re looking for.”
Jill grimaced. It was hard to focus. There was so much going on. So many new sights, sounds, and smells. She nervously searched for the snake-man that had tossed her into the air like a ragdoll, but didn’t see him. Was that kind of thing normal here? Hesitantly, she asked, “Have you heard of New City? Oceanside?”
“I’m afraid not,” the old man shook his head. “However, based on your aura, young one, you are not from this realm. You are what we call a ‘Traveler’. While it does not seem that you were the one to make this choice, you are now within the Du-Ra’eem.”
“What do you mean, not from this realm? Am I some kind of alien?”
Babu Ra’Oz chuckled. “Forgive this ancient one, Jill. It has been many years since I last talked with a Traveler. If you are willing, I will start with the basics. If there’s one thing I have plenty of in my old age, it is time to sit and talk. I do not live so far from this market, and I would be happy to offer you a cup of tea.”
“You know, that sounds… nice,” Jill nodded. She stood up a little straighter. She could do this. She was Jill Justice, daughter of World Champion Boxer, Jeraldine Justice. The Juggernaut. Whatever this new city, this new realm, threw at her, she could take it.
“That’s the spirit, child,” Babu Ra’Oz encouraged with a smirk. “Now, come. Let me tell you of my time as an artist. I sense a kinship in you. Do you also seek to master the canvas?”
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Babu Ra’Oz took his kettle off the burner, set it gently on a towel embroidered with soaring cranes, then eased into a wrinkled leather armchair across from Jill.
While they’d walked through Grand Orange Jubilee City’s streets, he’d given her a general lesson on cultivation, disciples, masters, and the Du’Ra-eem Realm. Jill hadn’t understood most of it, but she felt like she’d gotten the gist. The Du’Ra-eem was like the martial artist movies her dad loved to watch, and that meant that it was the kind of place where nearly anything was possible.
“Welcome to this one’s humble home, little Jill. I apologize, but it is a bit outdated. Many within Grand Orange Jubilee City feel the need to remodel, to change out the old for the new, but I am not one to care for shiny baubles. I prefer timeworn trinkets.”
As she sat down and settled in, Jill couldn’t stop herself from staring at the wide assortment of oddities that filled the cultivator’s house. Carvings of beavers and bison, collections of rocks and gemstones, sculpted tribal masks, and unusual toys painted in a variety of colors hung on the walls or rested on shelves. Each odd or end was ancient, emanated a strong sense of power, and promised it contained a story waiting to be told.
That was the other thing. Babu Ra’Oz was no simple old man. Based on how other cultivators rushed out of his way and kowtowed to him, Jill gathered that he was a big deal. Yet, she didn’t think his kind and humble demeanor was act. As naïve as it sounded, she believed that was who he really was.
Jill accepted Babu Ra’Oz’s proffered tea with a nervous smile. She took a steadying breath, clasped the warm cup in both of her hands, and let the heat seep into her skin.
“Thank you, Elder Ra’Oz,” she said, her voice firmer than she felt. “For the tea, for welcoming me into your home, and for saving me from whatever that was, out on the streets.”
Babu Ra’Oz shook his head. As he did, his afro seemed to dance to its own merry rhythm. “It was nothing, young one. In this realm, there are many, like that Naga, that believe in the rule of the strong. They think strength is all in the muscles, all in how much Qi they can store in their bodies and release in their techniques. They often forget about strength of character. I do not.”
Jill sipped her tea, half-expecting it to burn her tongue. It didn’t. It filled her with warmth and joy and love, like a cat curling up in her lap and purring softly. Her mind stopped racing, and the remaining anxiety she had from being transported out of New City fell to the background.
She raised her teacup and examined the winter landscape painted on its porcelain surface with wonder. “What is this tea? And did you paint this, Elder Ra’Oz? Looking at it, I feel like I’m being pulled into another world.”
The old cultivator chuckled and took a sip from his own cup. “It is Green Herbal Strong Gentle Tea, Jill. It contains a small amount of my Qi. We can talk about this another time, but as you develop your Qi, you strengthen it with affinities. My affinity is Kindness.
“As for the cup itself, you are correct. Many, many years ago, when I was a travelling cultivator, I once visited the Ice Lakes of Yagrella. It is a peaceful place. There, snow covers the ground like the softest blanket, and bluebirds sing from the boughs of trees. At the time, I was developing my cornerstone technique. I wished to capture the tranquility of what I experienced, so I honed my skills and painted beside the frozen waters. As you can see, this tea set is a representation of my time there.”
In a blink, Jill’s slippers brushed up against powdered snow. Babu Ra’Oz’s house was gone, and an easy breeze cast about playfully, causing her to shiver. As she pulled her robe tightly around her body and snowflakes danced in the air, she heard birds calling softly, somewhere in the distance. Still, her eyes never left the vast expanse of ice in front of her. There, amidst the frozen waves, was a man with a burnt sienna afro. Rime coated his light tunic, but he was unfazed by the cold. He wielded a brush and palette like a sword and shield before a canvas, defying the winter chill, as he strived to create a masterpiece.
Logs crackled in a fireplace.
A woven blanket was wrapped around her legs.
A heavy hand rested on her shoulder.
She was back in Babu Ra’Oz’s house. The cup of tea was still in her hands, but it was no longer full of warmth. Looking out the window, Jill was surprised to see that the sun was starting to set.
“W-what was that?”
“I did not mean for you to be drawn in, Jill. This one deeply apologizes. That was the effect of my technique, the Ma’Hon-Taj.”
“But I was there, wasn’t I? That was you, on the ice. Was that one of your memories?”
Babu Ra’Oz walked around Jill’s padded rocking chair, knelt before his fireplace, and slid another log onto the pile. He seemed to be trying to find the right words to explain what had happened. “You were there, in a sense. That is what makes the Ma’Hon-Taj a powerful ability. It allows you to see what yourself or others see. It distills experiences into singular moments.”
Jill’s thoughts shifted to the potential of the cultivator’s ability. Was it a way to relive old memories? Could she use it to travel back to–
As if reading her mind, Babu Ra’Oz shook his head. His afro gave her a somber wiggle. “The Ma’Hon-Taj does not transport your physical self. It cannot carry you out of this realm. Perhaps, though, you might be able to use it to see the friends you mentioned on our walk. When we met, you believed they might be caught within the Du’Ra-eem as well.”
Leaning forward in her seat, Jill set the magical tea cup down on the painter’s coffee table. “They have to be, Master Ra’Oz. I don’t know why, but if there’s something strange happening, I get the sense that my friend Trey is involved.”
Babu Ra’Oz smiled, and his eyes again twinkled with curiosity and delight. “There is conviction in your words, little Jill. You speak with the confidence of the oracle sages, as if you have been given a Quest.”
Jill blushed. “M-maybe that’s because this is important to me? If Trey and the others are here, then they’re here for a reason. I want to find a way to help. And maybe, if I find them, we can all search for a way back to New City together. Can you teach me your Ma’Hon-Taj technique?”
“You wish to be this ancient one’s student? I am afraid I might be too old to be a Master.”
“If I am going to live here, in this Du’Ra-eem Realm, I need a teacher, don’t I?”
“Perhaps…” Babu Ra’Oz hesitated. “But I cannot teach you techniques like the Roaring Brown Thunder Death Kick, or the Ice Needle Shattering Strike. Once, maybe, but I no longer follow a path of destruction.”
“I understand. You’re an artist, like me. I do want to grow stronger... but not to fight someone else. I just want to be able to show the world who I am. I don’t want to hide away anymore.”
Babu Ra’Oz clasped his hands in front of him, then gave her a slight bow. “Does a tree not bend with the wisdom of the wind? You speak with words beyond your years, little Jill. Very well. This ancient one would be happy to take you on as his disciple.”
Jill started to smile, struggling to restrain the excitement bubbling inside her.
“However…” Babu Ra’Oz paused. The air in the room stilled. Jill tried to read the old painter’s expression, but he’d steeled himself. His aura of warmth and kindness had disappeared, leaving behind only stoic purpose.
“Before we begin, you must understand something. A cultivator does not walk an easy path, for the heavens are not so easily reached, let alone defied. If you are to step upon this road, you must commit yourself to it.”
Jill grinned. That’s exactly what I want to do. I want to commit to myself, to this. She mimicked Babu Ra’Oz earlier movement, clasping her hands in front of her, and bowed. “I understand, Master Ra’Oz.”
“Excellent. Then we shall begin in the morning. In the meantime, let us relax and enjoy this sunset. It is quite inspiring, is it not?”