Three-hundred disciples call the Serpent’s Fang their home, of that number thirty-two were killed, a little less than half being past foundation, stabbed through the heart like common fodder. Tantra missed the wake for the dead, on account of being treated for some rather severe wounds, but she didn’t really know any of them so it would feel…like trespassing honestly. But she still went to the burial stone to read their names, out of respect more than anything. She was mildly surprised when she found Etra standing by the stone, staring at one of the names with a fierce intensity.
She glances at Tantra, but doesn’t acknowledge her presence otherwise and continues her brooding. Tantra just walks beside her and reads off the names. She lists them off one by one, trying and failing to commit them to memory.
“He was my friend,” Etra says suddenly, “back from the village, both of us were dead-set on becoming immortals together.”
Tantra is stunned for a moment at the unexpected communication, she looks over to the name on the stone.
“Jaka Roan,” Tantra says aloud.
Etra just nods.
“I’m sorry,” she says, not really knowing what else there is she can provide.
They sit in silence for a few moments, each occupied with their own thoughts.
“What about you?” Etra asks, “who did you lose?”
“No one,” Tantra says, “I came here to pay my respects, not to mourn.”
Etra scoffs, “truly, you are becoming more and more like a cultivator by the day.”
Tantra chuckles.
“I don’t think so, I don’t think I could ever really be a cultivator.”
Etra smiles softly, “yeah, neither did Jaka. I was the one who convinced him to try, fat lot of good that did him.”
Tantra stands silently, staring at Etra through her peripheral vision. The girl looks…broken, her usual strength gone from her posture, her usual boisterousness absent from her voice. She has never experienced grief besides her father, and even then it wasn’t from violence, so she doesn’t really know how to sympathise. She can empathise though.
“It’s not your fault,” Tantra says, “no one could have known that this would have happened.”
Etra just stares at the name.
“Except for the heavens,” she quips.
Tantra pulls her into a hug.
“Except for the heavens,” she echoes.
-
Tantra stares at the ceiling of her room, her housemates haven’t been as excitable as usual since the attack, considering Karaz is still fighting for her life, and hanging out with Yorin and Kisrin feels wrong right now, so she just stares at her roof, contemplating life and all its mysteries.
Like why humans choose to kill one another.
Some of the disciples killed were of the age of majority, but most were still children. All sharing the simple dream of immortality, ironic that, in a morbid sense. Most people die on the path to immortality, that isn’t some well-kept secret, it’s an implicit understanding amongst all those who cultivate. Everyone just thinks they won’t become one of the fallen.
It’s funny how the path to immortality leads to so much death.
Funny how it leads so many to kill one another.
What would the world look like, she wonders, where everyone stayed mortal?
Perhaps it would be more peaceful, or perhaps not.
Cultivation isn’t the root of all evils, it just makes it easier for evil people to do evil things, and for good people to do good things. All measured in the dedication to the path rather than worthiness or some such nonsense.
That’s the one commonality between all cultivators, dedication and determination. What is she dedicated to, she wonders? Her family? Coin? The dao?
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
That last one was a joke.
Haha.
She likes to think she cares for her family more than coins, but she is a merchant at the end of the day. Hopefully she isn’t so cold hearted. She misses her mothers, her biological mother died in childbirth, so the harem adopted her instead. All raising her to become an exceptional business woman, a dream her father trampled on by sending her here; and her father…she misses her father.
He was always so jovial, so full of life. A kind, portly man, with a tongue of silver and hands of gold. She loved him, she still loves him, beyond the grave. He was her idol, she wanted to be just like him, haggling big deals and going on adventures on the big routes across Testhim. Seeing the world in all its beauty.
She holds onto that dream like a precious flame in a blizzard.
-
There is a knock on their door, Tantra looks up from where she’s doing the dishes to look down the hall. “I’ll get it” Sola says, as she appears, sitting by the kitchen table. It wasn’t much of a surprise since she was petting Dok the whole time, and feeding him grapes. It’s actually kind of surreal to see a floating vine of grapes slowly being plucked and delivered to the duck.
Sola opens the door, and on the other side is master Jorin Karr, braids hanging low to the floor and eyes sunken.
“May I come in?”
Sola stares, then nods, “of course master.” She turns to Tantra, “Tantra, get Ranya.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Tantra shrugs and moves away from her spot into the kitchen, through the living area, and down the hall where two doors adorn each side. She knocks on Ranya’s door. It promptly swings open.
“Good evening Tantra!” She says, “Ranya was meditating, but she can always make time for you.”
Tantra smiles, “thanks Ranya,” she says, “Sola wanted me to get you, master Jorin is here.”
Ranya freezes at her words, staring at her with a shocked expression, “he is?”
“Yes?”
Ranya pushes her out of the way and dashes to the living area, Tantra follows, confused as to her urgency. Ranya stops right in front of where Jorin is sitting and interrupts his talk with Sola.
“Where is she?” Ranya demands.
“Ranya…” Sola says.
Jorin sighs, “hello to you too Ranya, my apologies, it’s been too long.”
“You did not come here to chat with Ranya, where. Is. Karaz”
Jorin fiddles with a token in his hand before placing it gently on the living room table.
“She has returned to the cycle,” he says softly, “my apologies, disciple Ranya.”
What?
Tantra stares at the man.
“What do you mean?” Tantra asks.
“What it sounds like.” Sola says sharply.
“Sola,” Jorin admonishes, “let her process. The first is always the hardest.”
Sola looks down, chastised.
Ranya hasn’t said anything, just standing there despondent.
“She passed just a few hours ago,” Jorin says, “the healers tried their best, but alas, the heavens spit on our efforts. As they are wont to do,”
“Which clan?” Ranya asks, a dangerous undertone to her voice, “which clan came here?”
Jorin looks at her pityingly.
“It does not matter.” He says, “Any disciple below the foundation realm is banned from traveling past the sects borders, and those above it must go in groups of at least five.”
“I can hold my own.” Ranya bites back.
“If you could,” Jorin says, “you would have taken the bandit alone, and your friend would still be alive.”
The blow hits Ranya like a backhanded slap, tears form in her eyes as she stomps back to her room.
“That was cruel,” Tantra admonishes, surprising herself and Sola, but Tantra doesn’t take it back.
“Better cruelty to nip the bud of vengeance forming than meaningless platitudes.” Jorin says.
There is silence after that.
“Sola.” Jorin says, “leave us, I have things to discuss with her.” He points at Tantra.
Sola stares, then nods and vanishes. After about a minute master Jorin fetches something from the pocket of his robes and places it on the table.
“This,” he points at the dial, “is a polygraphos, forged with the dao of truth. Once infused with a sufficient amount of Qi, it will tell me whether or not you are lying.”
“Master?”
“Bandits don’t come for the Serpent’s Fang,” he ignores, “To attack a cultivator's home is to risk destruction, even with a sect as pitiful as ours. They’d only attack if there was something here of value, say, for example, a significant sum of coins.”
Tantra stares at the man and says her next words slowly, “are you saying I brought them here?”
Jorin shrugs, “you, or the Elders who took the deal in the first place, it does not matter. What has passed has passed and blame lies with the killers, not with the victims.” He says, “My question for you, is if you told anyone of this deal before or after coming to the sect?”
He places his hand on the dial and pushes so much Qi into it that the world bends at a singular point as the dial glows a faint white.
Jorin nods at her.
Tantra licks her lips nervously, “other than those who already knew, and the people in this house? No, I told nobody.”
The dial screeches as it turns slightly to the right.
Jorin snatches the dial and pockets it as he stands, “good.” he says as he goes to walk out of the house.
“Wait,” Tantra says, “what did it say?”
Jorin glances at her, “the fact you are still alive should answer that question.”