Contributing Author: Zeusified
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“That is good, Jill. You are beginning to understand. Every day is a good day when you paint.”
Jill smiled, but didn’t look back at her teacher. Her brilliant sapphire robes were like his now, covered in splotches of cadmium yellow, alizarin crimson, sap green, and dark sienna. So far, she’d managed to complete one Ma’Hon-Taj. Babu Ra’OZ had called it a success, but she wasn’t convinced. It’d given her a snapshot of Stew’s life in the Du’Ra-eem Realm. Trey’s chef friend had been desperately stirring his cauldron, fighting to keep it ablaze, as he was battered by harsh mountain winds.
Jill concentrated on adding the final touches to her second painting, promising herself that this one would be better. She used her palette knife to augment the texture on a set of impossibly high cliffs, then built up the last of the shadows within a dense forest.
“I see,” Master Ra’Oz said, stroking his chin, “you’re Ma’Hon-Taj has once again drawn you deep into the Emerald Mountains. While your first painting contained only a small amount of Qi, this one contains significantly more. You are making incredible progress. I wonder what it might show us?”
“Do you think Trey is there? In the Emerald Mountains, I mean.”
“I am uncertain. The Ma’Hon-Taj is difficult to direct, but it will eventually lead us to where you wish to go. Tell me, is Trey not the beastkin depicted here?”
Jill laughed and shook her head. “No, Trey is not part-cheetah. He’s human, like me.”
The cultivating artist chuckled, “I didn’t want to make assumptions.”
“It’s not like that–”
“It is alright,” Babu Ra’Oz smirked. He stepped through a sunbeam cast by the open window, picked up a dry paintbrush, and spun it in his hand, whirling it around with an impressive level of dexterity. “I may not look it, yet I was young once. But you are not here to listen to this old man prattle on. You’re here to find a way to help your friend.”
Jill clenched her fists and nodded.
“I like your spirit, Jill. Shall we enter this Ma’Hon-Taj and find out if Trey is within this painting?”
“Yes.”
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Babu Ra’Oz began to hum, and the world shifted into a blend of colors. As Jill followed him into the canvas, and her body dissolved into whites and browns and blacks and greens. The transition was cleaner than her first attempt, where she’d barely caught a glimpse of the burly chef, yet it was nowhere near what she’d experienced when she’d drifted into the Ma’Hon-Taj contained in Babu Ra’Oz’s teacup.
As her spirit traveled the ether, Jill attempted to understand the magic behind the change. She tried to watch the colors, to comprehend the flow of feelings and emotions, but every detail eluded her. Before she could consider things further, she was there, inside the canvas, watching, learning, knowing.
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Cheetah Brains panted, hackles raised, pupils wide and alert as he scanned the shadows of a dense forest. His claws were out, sharp and deadly, but he didn’t look like a warrior or a predator. Surrounded by all those mighty trees–trees tall enough to touch the clouds–he looked like a child lost in a supermarket.
A bell dinged in the distance, and the feline man didn’t hesitate. He ran, throwing himself to the ground, moving on all fours in a graceful, loping sprint. He heard another bell, then another, and each time he changed directions, always away, always retreating. Something was out there, closing in, and no matter how his ears flicked, no matter how his nose twitched, he couldn’t sense it.
It was over long before Cheetah Brains realized it was. That was how it went, of course, for the hunted. He’d heard two bells in near unison, panicked, and bolted around a fallen log and a thick bush, right into the waiting claws of another cat.
To call it a fight was to call a tsunami a drop of water. Cheetah Brains’s momentum was dashed in an instant. A powerful force yanked him into the sky by his hind legs and left him there, flailing for purchase.
The other cat was a feminine, graceful, beautiful thing. She tutted in a soothing purr, pacing around her dangling prey. “This will not do, Cheetah. I thought your kind was supposed to be quick, but each time you leave me more disappointed.”
Spluttering, Cheetah Brains gasped for air, tried to reply, and eventually managed to get out, “This lowly kitten apologizes, Elder Sister Ni Qi.”
“Lowly kitten indeed,” the Mirage laughed. “Remember, disciple, the chase is not about trying to survive. To live doesn’t mean you’re alive. You need to find your purpose, to use it as your key to understanding the difference between what is real, and what is illusion.”
Still struggling to catch his breath, Cheetah Brains nodded.
“Good. Now, let us begin this Hell again. Maybe you, my disciple, will make progress this time.”
She dropped Cheetah Brains to the forest floor, and the feline man fell to his claws and knees. By the time he looked up, Master Ni Qi was gone.
Then the bells began to chime again.
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“I sense a change in the Qi. Have you completed another painting?” Master Ra’Oz asked from down the hall.
Jill, coming out of yet another artistic trance, took in her newest work with a mixture of horror and fascination, as her jaw slowly dropped to the floor.
Who is that massive man, and what is he doing with those jade beauties?
Hearing Master Ra’Oz’s footsteps, Jill–blushing furiously–leapt for the canvas and shielded it with her body, hiding as much of the image as possible.
I can’t let him see this! No matter how kind he is, he’ll still throw me out on the streets!
“Jill?” her teacher said. He was growing closer and closer, and there wasn’t a single sheet or blanket in her makeshift studio. There wasn’t time to rush to her bedroom, and, while she considered fire as a potential option, Jill wasn’t sure how to set a magical canvas ablaze.
In the end, she just stood there with her arms spread out, head hanging in shame, as Master Ra’Oz walked in, eyes sparkling with curiosity, hands clasped behind his back.
Her teacher started chuckling the second he saw her, and his afro bounced with a joy of its own.
“I see, I see. There is no shame in art, Jill. You can do anything here, the only prerequisite is that it makes you happy.”
“This painting doesn’t make me happy!” Jill squeaked.
“My, but it is quite the depiction of the dual cultivation technique, is it not? Could you move aside, so I could see the entire piece?”
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“No!”
“It would be quite interesting to enter this Ma’Hon-Taj. Perhaps, even I might learn something. Shall we see what this is all about?”
Jill vehemently shook her head.
“Absolutely not!”
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Jill’s next painting was small, maybe three square inches, but Master Ra’Oz was just as interested in it as he’d been in the others.
“Your brushwork is improving, little artist.”
“Can you see what’s happening in this one, Master? I tried to connect with the canvas, like you taught me, but I still don’t understand how to step inside on my own.”
Jill leaned over the old man’s shoulder and peered around his gray-streaked afro at the image of a shining steel robot, a potato man, and a woman in the now-familiar set of verdant robes that marked her as one of the DREAM Sect’s elders.
“You must find freedom in the canvas to experience it,” Master Ra’Oz said, raising a finger covered in a layer of dried lilac paint. It shook, just a little, as he held it in the air to emphasize his point. “Then, using absolutely no pressure, like an angel’s wing, you need to shift your conscious mind forward.
“Come closer. I will take you with me. Do not close yourself off to the world. Open your senses and try to piece together what I’m doing. I believe that, this time, you will understand.“
Babu Ra’Oz extended his hand. It was calloused and worn, kind and warm. As Jill stepped next to him and placed her hand in his, he reminded her of home, of the ocean, of walking with him on the beach, searching for shells, talking about her hopes and dreams.
“Are you alright, Jill?” the old painter asked, coughing into his other hand. “We can do this another time.”
“No,” Jill mumbled, shaking her head. “I’m fine. I want to see this through.”
“Okay, then,” Master Ra’Oz said, giving her one of his gentle smiles. He closed his eyes, then began to hum.
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This time, Jill stayed with him for as long as she could as they raced through streamers of titanium white, phthalo green, and Van Dyke brown. As the canvas worked to split her essence apart into separate hues and wavelengths, Jill grit her teeth, opened herself up, and tried to feel where the colors wanted her to go.
It was impossible to comprehend them. They were fickle, fleeting, and frustrating. There, for just a second, full of inspiration. Gone the next.
Be a gentle whisper.
Babu Ra’Oz’s words drifted through the painting’s ether, echoed in her mind, and she realized what was wrong. She was forcing it. She was putting so much of her effort into figuring out the puzzle that she’d forgotten her master’s first lesson.
Beauty is everywhere. You only have to look to see it.
Was it that simple? Was that all she had to do?
The canvas took her in the palm of its hands and cast her into the wind. Jill leapt with it, soared, and looked down through the clouds at an open clearing near a remodeled workshop.
Like that, she was back inside another Ma’Hon-Taj.
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“Come here, rude boy,” Ri a’Na said. “We must begin. You are testing your Elder Sister’s patience.”
Her voice was firm, clipped, and demanding, but Tater Tot refused to leave his robotic girlfriend’s side. He wasn’t always a stubborn spud, but there were a few cutting boards he wouldn’t cross.
“Are you certain this is for the best? This seems a little cruel,” Cratherine asked.
“Didn’t they tell you that I was savage?” Elder Ri a’Na said, raising a single eyebrow. “This is the surest way of raising a spirit beast to its next level.”
The elder strode across the clearing. As her verdant robes swirled in the wind, and she reached into them and drew out the method-in-question. It was a simple metal cube. It’s top half was made out of a strange green metal, it’s bottom from an alabaster white stone.
“Listen, Construct. The cultícube is easy enough to use and, as the beast’s tamer, it is your responsibility. Can you handle it?“
Cratherine accepted the device from Elder Ri a’Na and examined it. As she did so, the elder stepped into Tater Tot’s personal bubble and fixed him with her fiercest glare.
“Now, rude boy, this is your last chance. Prepare yourself.”
“What if I’m trapped in the cube forever?” Tater Tot asked, averting his eyes. He kicked a loose piece of gravel with the tip of his boot. “I don’t want to live in a box.”
“It is not a box, disciple. It will test you, but only to determine if you are worthy. For you, this will be a place of safety. It will be somewhere you can return to no matter your injuries, no matter the danger that lurks outside–so long as you trust your companion.”
Tater Tot looked to Cratherine for support. The robot shrugged her metallic shoulders, concern clearly evident in her LED eyes. “I thought I’d lost you last time, when the pirates took off your head. I don’t think the Deepfryolizer 900 will always be enough to bring you back.”
“You think this is better?”
“If what our Elder Sister says is true, then yes. If you’re inside this… cultícube, all I need to do to heal you is to bring you to a Cultímon Center.”
“Every city has at least one,” Elder Ri a’Na added, nodding gravely. “During my time as a tamer, Cultímon Centers saved many of my own spirit beasts from the claws of death.”
Frowning, Tater Tot started to take one sheepish step forward. Before he planted his foot, however, he pivoted back toward Cratherine and took one of her powerful metal hands in both of his.
“Promise me you won’t leave me in there,” he asked.
“I promise,” the robot said, her LEDs lighting up in a pattern he’d recognize anywhere as love and compassion. It was more than enough to give him the confidence he needed to make his choice.
Moving with conviction, Tater Tot strode to the center of the clearing. He set his feet on the overgrown cobblestones and braced himself in a resolute stance.
Elder Ri a’Na smiled, then motioned for Cratherine to begin.
The robotic woman didn’t hesitate. Like a seasoned pitcher about to unleash a fastball, she entered her wind-up. Shifting her bodyweight back, she cradled the cultícube just behind her auditory processors. With one long, earth-shattering step forward, she initiated the kinetic chain reaction, putting in everything she had, driving through her legs, her hips, her core, her shoulder, her arm, her hand, and her fingertips. When she released the cultícube, it immediately broke the sound barrier.
Tater Tot didn’t have time to blink, let alone react, before it struck him in the head. Yet, as Elder Ri a’Na had said, the cultícube hit him with no more force than a marshmallow thrown by a small child. Instead of falling to the ground, however, it popped open and hovered in the air.
White light swirled and coalesced inside the cube, building to a crescendo. For a single moment, Tater Tot stared into the light, full of wonder, with an awestruck grin on his face. He started to wave to Cratherine, started to say something–only for his words to be sucked away as the device activated, pulling him inside with a rush of Qi.
Mid-air, the cube closed with a clink. It fell to the grass with a thunk, then began to roll around on the cobblestones. It rocked back and forth, as if Tater Tot was fighting to break free.
“Elder Sister,” Cratherine said, risking a nervous glance over at their instructor, “Is it working? Is he alright in there?”
“I might have forgotten to mention that it can be disorienting, dealing with all that dimensional energy,” the elder admitted. “But he’ll get used to it.”
Cratherine wanted to say more, wanted to see if there was anything she could do to help, but just as she was about to act, the cultícube stopped moving. It sent a warm, reassuring pulse into the clearing, and Elder Ri a’Na turned toward her with a sly smirk on her face.
“See, Construct? He is fine.”
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“This is the one, Master Ra’Oz.”
It was dark inside the house. Jill had worked in practically a fugue-state up until that point, and hadn’t even realized the sun had fallen. As the old painter entered the studio, carrying a candle in his hand, she realized that its flickering light was unnecessary.
An angelic, holy warmth flooded from the completed canvas, causing even Babu Ra’Oz to stare in wonder.
Inside the painting, Trey, wearing the green and purple robes of a DREAM Sect disciple, balanced in kung-fu pose atop a thin, crumbling pillar, near one of the Emerald Mountain’s tallest peaks. His eyes were closed, as if deep in meditation, and he held a ball of white fire in one hand, pushing back the darkness of the night.
Jill had worked for three weeks, training from dawn to dusk, searching for this moment. Over the past few days, doubts had started to form cracks in her conviction. She’d painted Ma’Hon-Tajs of all of Trey’s companions, and she’d begun to think that maybe he wasn’t in the Du’Ra-eem Realm after all.
Now, though, there wasn’t any doubt in her mind. As she stared at the painting, she couldn’t help but whisper, “What are you up to, Trey?
“Very interesting,” Master Ra’Oz said, coughing lightly. He tapped a finger against his chin. “Shall we find out?”
It was Jill’s turn to take Babu Ra’Oz’s hand. When she grasped it, she was again drawn to the beach, to the ocean. Except, this time, she realized the frailness hidden within her master’s Qi. It was if he stood there with her, on the shore, and as he did so, she was afraid he was going to blow away in the wind.
Babu Ra’Oz seemed to sense the change in her mood. He squeezed her hand in his.
“I see you’ve seen through me, little Jill.”
She met the painter’s eyes. “I wondered why you didn’t have any other disciples.”
“I taught many throughout my years. Each one was a joy to behold. But do not fret. This humble teacher still has a few adventures left in him.”
Jill smirked. “Is that so? In that case, Master Ra’Oz, let me be your guide.”
The ancient cultivator smiled at her. His afro wobbled to its own happy tune. “Lead the way, disciple.”
Jill closed her eyes and began to hum.