Darian trudged through the forest, each step causing pain to shoot through his body, his mind a bit dizzy and disoriented. As battered and bruised as he was, it was a minor miracle that he could still walk at all. His breathing came in shallow and unsteady as he labored to take in enough air. More than once he had to stop to take a short break. Blood caked his face, long dried and crusty. Some of it entered his mouth, filling it with the taste of salt and copper. His left eye was nearly swollen shut, impairing his vision. Not that there was much to see around him.
This deep in the Silverwood Forest, which occupied most of the similarly named Silverwood Vale, the trees grew thick and tall, their branches forming a canopy that almost blotted out the light of the setting sun. Beneath them, a dense underbrush grew along the forest floor. There was little to differentiate this part of the forest from any other. Without any specific landmarks, Darian couldn’t tell where he was. In short, he was lost. He couldn’t even see his home, Mt. Wind Dance, from here, nor did he have the energy to climb one of the trees to search for it.
That didn’t matter. Mt. Wind Dance occupied the northern edge of Silverwood Vale. If he just kept trudging north, keeping the setting sun to his right, he would eventually reach home and safety. As long as he didn’t meet any wild animals or monsters, he would be fine. This close to home, there was little chance of that, but the risk was still there. It would be even better if he could find the Silver River, which ran down the entirety of Silverwood Vale. Several towns and villages made their homes along its shores. Yet, Darian had neither the energy nor the desire to deviate from his current path.
Silence reigned this deep in the forest. Other than the occasional bird song, or the yipping from some distant animal, the only thing Darian heard was his own labored breathing and the wind rustling through the trees. At least he didn’t hear the roar of some kind of dire monster or some other kind of spirit beast. As a regular mortal, he would stand no chance against one of those. The smell of wet earth and green growing things filled his nostrils, at least the parts that weren’t filled with his own blood.
As the sun sank further into the horizon, the light dimmed and the temperature around him grew cooler. It was early spring and the air still had a bit of winter’s bite to it, especially at night. This was bad for Darian since he had been dressed for a quick trip to town, wearing a simple tunic and pair of trousers, not an overnight stay in the woods. It was very well possible that he would die of exposure out here.
That thought filled his heart with despair, but he brushed it aside. He would not die out here. He would make it home, where it was warm and safe. All he needed to do was keep heading north. As he continued forward, Darian thought back to the events that led to his current predicament. Anger and humiliation burned within his gut.
He had started his day as usual by going through his training routine. It never seemed to have done him any good, but he held onto the hope that if he trained hard enough he would one day open his Heart Aperture. Once that occurred, things would be different for him. Better. That single sliver of hope was his lifeline against the despair that threatened to engulf him these days.
After training, Darian decided to head into Valeheart, the town that sat at the foot of Mt. Wind Dance. While it wasn’t in the literal center of Silverwood Vale, as the seat of power for Clan Wind Dance, which ruled the vale, the mountain that bore their name was the political and social center of the area. Thus the town at the foot of the mountain gained its name.
Darian had wanted to buy a gift for a friend of his since her birthday was coming up. He had saved most of his monthly stipend from the past several months in order to do so. While he could get something from his clan’s storerooms, he wanted to give this friend something special. Most of Darian’s clan members ignored him, pretending he didn’t exist, with some of them even treating him with open derision and mockery. Only a few treated him with kindness, and the number of people he considered his friends could be counted on one hand. Each one was as precious to him as gold.
It didn’t take Darian long to reach Valeheart. Two years ago, when he turned sixteen, he had been considered an adult by the clan. As such, they assigned him his own quarters near the foot of the mountain, along with the rest of the low status members of Clan Wind-Dance. However, when he reached town, Darian ran into trouble. In this particular case, trouble took on the form of Zayne Wind-Dance, Darian’s chief tormentor, accompanied by a gang of his cronies. Over the years, Zayne had made Darian’s life hell. It started when they were both children, and had escalated over the years. Verbal abuse, cruel pranks, and more. Zayne had refrained from anything physical, so far, but short of that, everything else was fair game.
Darian had tried to fight back several times over the years, to no avail. Zayne had the clan’s favor. They always sided him in any disagreement between him and Darian. Why? Simple. Zayne was a cultivator, while Darian was an ordinary mortal. Cultivators walked the path towards immortality, reaching higher and higher states of being, in defiance of the heavens. It was a dangerous path, fraught with many perils, but those who survived it earned strength and power beyond mortal understanding. At the highest levels cultivators could fly, summon storms, shatter mountains, and much more. To them, regular mortals were little better than ants.
In the world of cultivation, those with strength had status, while those without did not. Zayne was a cultivator, albeit a low level one who hadn’t even finished his Foundation Establishment yet. He was just a single step above an ordinary mortal. Even so, that single step allowed him to get away with tormenting people like Darian, as long as he didn’t cross a certain threshold. It was unfair and unjust, but there was little Darian could do about it except grit his teeth and endure.
Things would be different if Darian could open his Heart Aperture, crossing the threshold into becoming a cultivator himself, but that hadn’t happened yet despite years of training. He feared that it never would.
When he encountered Zayne in Valeheart, Darian tried to ignore him and go about his business. However, Zayne and his cronies blocked his path. They demanded payment before they would let him pass. That was when Darian realized there was something different about this encounter when compared to his previous ones with Zayne. Not once, in all the years they had known each other, had Zayne tried to coerce him like this. It was a line he hadn’t crossed before. Regardless, Darian told him no, thinking that would be the end of it.
The denial had barely left his lips when Zayne struck him in the torso, sending him flying back. Darian had hit the ground hard, landing flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Zayne and his cronies proceeded to beat him while he was still lying on the ground, striking him with their fists and feet. He tried to fight back, and then he tried to escape, but there were too many of them and they were all stronger than him. In the end, all Darian could do was shield his head as best he could with his arms. It didn’t take him long to lose consciousness after that.
Darian woke up hours later, lying somewhere deep within the Silverwood Forest. Everything he had on him had been taken, except the clothes on his back. This included the money he had saved. In severe pain and robbed of his possessions, Darian spent several minutes lying there, fighting back tears. He drowned in despair. At that moment, he had been tempted to just stay there and let the forest take him. What was the point of continuing on? He hated his life, and it wasn’t going to get any better. In fact, today’s events had proven to him that it could only get worse. Yet, every fiber of his being rejected the idea of just giving up. If he did, then that would mean Zayne and everyone who had ever looked down on him would win. More than that, he had people back on Mt. Wind Dance that cared for him and loved him. His death would hurt them, and he didn’t want that to happen.
With that in mind, Darian clenched his teeth and pulled himself up. It hurt, and took a lot of his energy, but he managed. At least Zayne and his cronies hadn’t broken any bones. That would have spelled his death for certain. Afterwards, Darian oriented himself using the sun as a reference point and started heading home. Home was north. As long as he kept the sun to his right as he walked forward, he would eventually get there.
Dazed and lost in his thoughts, Darian didn’t notice the stone before he tripped over it. It sent him sprawling amongst the tree roots and underbrush, giving him even more scrapes and bruises. Not that it changed much overall. This was just a single note amongst the cacophony of pain that racked his body. No, the real blow was to his spirit. Darian just remained there, on his hands on knees, clenching his fists. After a moment, the anger and humiliation that had been burning in his gut exploded outward.
With a scream, Darian grabbed the stone that had tripped him, though it took a bit of work since it was larger than he had expected and had been buried deep. He didn’t care, and prevailed in the end.
“I hate this!” he yelled as he threw the stone.
It struck a tree and bounced off before hitting the ground.
“I hate this! I hate all of this! I hate Zayne! I hate how everyone treats me like the dirt beneath their feet!” Darian paused to suck in a breath. The next sentence came out as a whisper. “Most of all, I hate being so weak. Why am I like this? Why can’t I get any stronger?”
When the scions of Clan Wind Dance reached a certain age, usually between fourteen and sixteen years of age, they were trained in the basics of the [Dancing Wind] cultivation technique, which was the core of their clan’s power and the source of their name. Aptitude in the [Dancing Wind] technique determined one’s status within the clan going forward. Prodigies and geniuses were praised and nurtured, while those with lesser talents received lesser rewards. Those like Darian, who had no aptitude for the technique at all, or cultivation in general, were ignored at best and treated with disdain at worst. He had trained in the technique for the past few years, and had never improved beyond learning the basic stances of the [Dancing Wind] technique.
No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t sense spirit energy and direct it, which would allow him to open the Heart Aperture. Spirit energy was the power of the heavens and the earth. It was everywhere, and in everything. It was in the air, the earth, within living beings. Everywhere. The ability to sense spirit energy and direct it, to take it into themselves, was what allowed cultivators to do what they could do. It was how they refined and tempered themselves, and it was how they performed all kinds of superhuman and supernatural feats. It was how they rose above their own mortality.
Every member of the main family of Clan Wind Dance had broken through the Heart Aperture after they began training, every member except Darian. At first, when he started training, the clan watched him with hope and high expectations. His grandfather was the head of the clan, and his father was considered a genius amongst cultivators after all. These expectations soon turned to disappointment and impatience after a few years. When it became clear he would never break through, most of the clan dismissed Darian from their minds and focused their attention elsewhere. Despite that, Darian never gave up and kept training.
Stolen novel; please report.
Except now he didn’t see the point.
Darian sat there in the Silverwood Forest, not moving. The tears he had been holding back before now streamed down his face. Shame and sorrow filled him to the brim.
“Well now,” a languid voice said. “That was entertaining.”
Startled, Darian whirled around, searching for the source of the voice. However, no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find them.
“Who’s there?” he called out, his voice hoarse. “Show yourself!”
Several seconds passed in silence, and just as he was beginning to think he had imagined the voice, it spoke up again.
“Up here, little human.”
Darian looked up to find a cat lying on a tree branch, looking down at him. This was no ordinary cat, however. Its body was red and translucent, he was almost able to completely see through it, glowing with some kind of inner light. Its eyes burned white hot, like flickering flames. A wreath of fire surrounded its neck, almost like a mane. A black diamond marked its forehead. A spirit beast.
Spirit beasts, like cultivators, were beings that could take in and use spiritual energy. Some spirit beasts were in fact cultivators themselves. A few were born with a high level of power, like the legendary dragons that once ruled the skies, while others worked to reach that point. They came in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and temperaments. Some were even partially or completely incorporeal in nature. A few could even take on human form. No matter what they looked like, however, they were all inhuman and dangerous. The strongest spirit beasts were often considered gods, and were worshiped as such by certain cultures. Cultivators could often hold their own against spirit beasts, but ordinary mortals like Darian stood no chance against even the weakest ones.
Darian sucked in a breath when he realized he faced a spirit beast and scrambled backwards away from it. He kept going until his back hit a tree and he couldn’t move further away. He would have turned around to run, but he feared that if he turned his back to this cat spirit beast, it would chase after him. His heart beat against his chest like a drum. Fear and dread pooled in his stomach.
The cat spirit beast watched all this occur, an amused expression on its feline face. It otherwise didn’t react or move at all. When it became clear that the spirit beast wouldn’t attack him, yet, Darian swallowed back his fear and spoke up.
“What do you want from me?” he asked.
The cat spirit beast tilted its head to one side.
“What makes you think I want anything from you, human?”
“Well, you’re talking with me. Why would you do that unless you wanted something? From what I know, spirit beasts avoid humans unless they want something. That, or they want to eat them.”
The cat spirit beast tilted its head to the other side.
“Do you want me to eat you, human? It has been a while for me.” It looked him up and down. “You might make a decent meal.”
Darian’s fear spiked. He waved his hands in front of him, as if trying to ward off the cat spirit beast.
“No. I would rather not be eaten,” he said, the words rushing out of him. “Thank you very much.”
“Then why did you bring it up, human?”
Darian stared at the spirit beast, confusion replacing his fear. Despite his low status, he had access to his clan’s library. When he wasn’t training, he spent much of his time there, trying to find a way to break past his current limitations. None of the books he read mentioned anything about spirit beasts interacting with mortals like this. It would be one thing if he was a cultivator. Cultivators and spirit beasts encountered each other all the time, with varying degrees of friendliness and hostility. However, Darian wasn’t a cultivator, he was just an ordinary mortal.
“Then why are you here?” Darian asked. "Spirit beasts don’t usually come this close to Mt. Wind Dance.”
Clan Wind Dance had either captured and tamed all the spirit beasts within Silverwood Vale, or driven them off long ago. Newly arrived spirit beasts received the same treatment.
The cat spirit beast snorted with derision.
“I go where I wish,” it sneered. “If those flouncing little dancers that call themselves masters of this area have a problem with that, they are more than welcome to test themselves against me. In fact, I almost wish they would. It has been far too long since I had a good fight.”
Darian worked hard to keep a straight face after he heard the cat spirit beast describe his clan as “flouncing little dancers”. Despite the way they had treated him, he was still loyal to the clan as a whole, if not the many of the people in it. Laughing would be disloyal. He also didn’t want the cat spirit beast to misunderstand him and think he was laughing at it. That would spell his doom.
“However, to answer one of your questions is simple. I was curious. I don’t often see humans this deep in the Silverwood. When I found one heading south, away from Mt. Wind Dance, I decided to follow him. So far, it has proven to be vastly entertaining.”
Darian snorted.
“I’m glad I could be of some use to you,” he said before he could think better of it.
Talking back to the cat spirit beast didn’t seem like a good idea, but it was too late now. That’s when he processed the rest of its sentence.
“Wait. Did you just say I had been heading south, away from Mt. Wind Dance?”
“Yes, I did,” the cat spirit beast answered, its words laced with amusement.
Darian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His eyes widened when he realized it was telling the truth. In his dazed state, he had walked forward, keeping the sun to his right, thinking that it would lead him north towards Mt Wind Dance. He had kept the setting sun to his right. It now hit him that he had been heading south this entire time rather than north. Instead of heading home, he had been walking further and further away from it. His heart sank at this realization.
Exhaustion and grief weighed on Darian like a heavy burden. His drive to reach home had kept both at bay, but this latest blow had crushed his spirits further. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, leaning against the tree behind him. Given how far he was from home and civilization, and his lack of outdoor survival skills, there was a very good chance he would die out here.
“I’m an idiot,” he said. “I had been going in the wrong direction this entire time.”
The cat spirit beast chuckled.
“I take it that you hadn’t meant to come to this place?”
Darian shook his head without opening his eyes.
“In that case, you might take our meeting as a fateful encounter then. Whether or not you consider that a good thing, I’ll leave to you.”
The temperature around Darian rose, banishing the cold, and replacing it with a comforting warmth. He opened his eyes and looked down to find the cat spirit beast just a few feet away from him, emanating light and heat. The sun had almost disappeared at this point, plunging the Silverwood into darkness. This left the cat spirit beast as the only source of light for him. Somehow it had climbed or jumped down from the tree without him hearing. He supposed he should’ve been surprised or shocked by this, but he couldn’t find the energy within himself to care. The cat spirit beast sat on its haunches, staring at him.
“What do you mean?” he asked after a few moments.
“Do you want power?” it asked him. “Given your words from earlier, I assume yes, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.”
Darian blinked at it a few times, before narrowing his eyes.
“Are you scheming something? If this is some kind of bargain for power in exchange for my soul, then the answer is no.”
He had read too many stories, both fictional and historical, about humans who had made ill-advised bargains with inhuman beings. It never ended well.
“I would never!” the cat spirit beast said in an affronted voice, holding one of its paws to its chest. Darian couldn’t tell if it was mocking him or not. The cat spirit beast then smirked right after, which answered his question. “No, I am not here to offer you a bargain. Rather, I offer you the chance to seize power for yourself.”
Darian frowned.
“I’m not sure if that sounds any better. Your words are too vague. Just speak plainly.”
The cat spirit beast shook its head.
“I can’t. Oaths of silence bind me. What I can say is that I am the guardian of a cultivator’s legacy, and I believe you meet the requirements to inherit that legacy. Whether or not you do is up to you. That is all I can say on the matter.”
Darian stared at the cat spirit, unable to believe his luck. Here he was, lamenting his weakness and lack of power, before meeting a cat spirit beast that offered him exactly what he wanted. Perhaps the heavens had finally blessed him. His heart burned with the desire to accept the cat spirit beast’s offer. So much so that he even opened his mouth to say yes, but he stopped himself before doing so. Fate was a strange and mysterious force that affected the world, and one couldn’t discount the benefits of good luck. Even so, this entire scenario seemed a bit too convenient. Suspicion bloomed in his heart.
“Why would you offer something like this to me?” he asked. “I’m not even a cultivator.”
“It’s because you aren’t a cultivator that I make this offer. The legacy I guard has very specific requirements that not just anyone can fulfill. In fact, you’re the first mortal I’ve met that even has a chance of meeting those requirements. A lack of cultivation is one of them.”
“What are the other requirements?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Darian glared at the cat spirit beast.
“You’re not being very helpful.”
At that, it only shrugged.
“I can only do so much given the limitations placed upon me.”
Darian sighed, before leaning his head against the tree again and staring upwards. The canopy of tree branches prevented him from seeing the stars. Still, the thought that they were still out there, even if they were hidden, provided him with some measure of comfort. Even if he took the cat spirit beast’s words at face value, something he desperately wanted to do, there was no guarantee he would be able to inherit this legacy, whatever it was. After all, he had trained in the basics of the [Dancing Wind] technique for the past four years to no discernible effect. What if it was the same with this legacy?
Still, he decided not to mention that out loud, afraid that the cat spirit beast might retract its offer if he did. At the very least, he wanted to try. In his heart he had already decided to accept. Even the idea that this might all be a trick or a trap wasn’t enough to dissuade him.
“What if I say no?” Darian asked, still looking up.
“Simple,” the cat spirit beast said. “I will stay with you for the night, keeping you warm so you don’t die of exposure. When morning comes, I will lead you to the nearest human settlement. After that, you will never see me again. You will never get another chance to inherit the legacy I guard, no matter how hard you search.”
Huh. That was kinder than Darian had expected. He thought that the cat spirit beast would just leave him out here to die.
“If you say yes, however,” it continued. “I will lead you to where the legacy is hidden right now.”
Darian looked down to find the cat spirit beast watching him, a calm and patient expression on its face, as if it had all the time in the world. Perhaps it did. Cultivators, be they human or otherwise, could live for thousands or tens of thousands of years, even if they never achieved immortality. A few hours was nothing to them. This cat spirit beast could spend years waiting for an answer. Darian, as a mortal, did not have that luxury.
“Very well,” Darian said. “I accept. Lead me to this legacy of yours.”
At this, the cat spirit beast gave him a warm smile.
“Good,” it said, looking pleased. “Follow me.”
With that, it turned and trotted off. Darian struggled to his feet, before staggering after it.