“Kapin Mistro’ku” “Feilyn Mistro’bai”

The 2 young adversaries’ face turn even more sour as they inadvertently spoke in unison again. Kapin’s deep black eyes staring daggers into the light apricot colored face of the intruding young lady, as if wanting to carve whatever disdain he had for her directly onto her cheeks. Feilyn matched his threatening gaze, her eyes dazzling like polished sapphire, reflecting a confidence and assertiveness that she always carries herself with. Unyielding even in the angry presence of a man a full foot larger than her.

I could smell the sparks in the air. Hopefully my herbs won’t catch on fire!

Liliac muses to herself, watching the tense standoff between her two friends. A scene that has become all too regular ever since the two decided to make her little clinic the go to place for evening hang out after a long and taxing day.

Fortunately, be it due to self restraint or their sense of pride, these little confrontations never devolved into physical violence, normally ending with just a few sharp remarks and one-side storming off in a dissatisfied huff. Thus, besides the first few times where she tried to disarm the situation but to no avail, Liliac has learnt to just let the steam run off on its own. Today was no different.

“Come now Lil, don’t waste anymore of your time tending with this impulsive oaf. The ceremony is going to start in but a few more hours, and we need to get ready, to show our dignity as the Future of the Mistro clan.”

Feilyn proclaims loudly, placing extra emphasis on the word ‘Future’ as she gave one last glare at the now fuming man. Reaching a polished satin hand out towards Liliac, inviting her to be on their way.

“Give me a minute Feilyn, I still need to pack up.”

Liliac replies with a calm but affirmative voice to the dignified young lady, who furrows her brow in reluctancy and concern, but backs off upon seeing the resolve in her friend’s brilliant amber eyes.

“Wait for me outside, I’ll be with you very soon.”

Reassuring Feilyn as she begrudgingly slips out of the tiny stone hut, the curtain falling shut behind her in a heavy thump. Liliac reaches over to her medicinal cabinet and carefully places the sorted herbs into their respective sections. Once fully cleaned up, she opens a small hidden compartment located bellow the second drawer from the bottom and retrieves a small glass jar from its straw cushioned compartment. A delicate little thing barely the size of her palm, its mouth tightly sealed with wax paper. She pops it open under the slightly curious gaze of the still seething Kapin, procuring a tiny transparent gem from within, the size of her fingernail, before dropping it into a fresh new cup of steaming peppermint tea and pushing it across the compact stone table towards the young man. Rock sugar, a rare luxury here in the humid climate of the Eastern Seas, treasures that Liliac have painstakingly saved and hoarded over many years.

Kapin blinks with surprise, but before he could decline, Liliac speaks up ahead of him.

“You really got to stop being so cynical towards Feilyn. I know you don’t like the elder families, and her being the Clan Head’s daughter is the very symbol of those elites. But you can’t let the position that she is born in define how you view her as person!”

Kapin remains silent, his expression still irritated like the stormy seas, with turbulence radiating out and beyond the freshly sweetened cup of tea.

“And yes, she does have a prideful personality. And yes, she is a little self-centric at times. But at her core, I believe that she is like her father, someone who cares very much about the people of Mistro, be it Cultivators or Commoners.”

“You have to admit that without the Clan Head’s interference, the elders would have gone wild! And the Common folks and regular Cultivators would have rioted! There is a reason that her family has remained in the Head’s position for so long, without the people rebelling against it.”

Liliac continues her speech, trying to sooth the embers of hatred in Kapin’s heart. The young man retorts, unwilling to back down easily.

“Its because he is strong. He’s a Rank 4 Cultivator, he can crush any opposition thrown his way, as easy as crushing a snail’s shell. All Cultivators are the same, absorbed in their own search for power, viewing Commoners as just pebbles by the street.”

“Can you honestly say that Kapin? With your hand on your heart? What about Ms. Helliana, who keeps watch over the rice fields day and night so no Giant Albatrosses can snatch up a farmer during their shift? What about Mr. Jeramo, who would always conjure fresh meat and bread whenever the harvest was bad, so at least the workers will not go empty stomached? And what about my father, the one who risked being ripped apart by the waves when he dived after you in the waters bellow the Mistblade Cliffs?”

Kapin shrinks a bit in his cup with each name Liliac brings up, unable to form a reasonable come back.

“And even here in the Eastern Slopes, we have a whole bunch of shops and services offered or funded by Cultivators. Every night Cultivators from the Academy patrols the streets, making sure everyone is safe. Even the high and mighty elder families would send their people out to sea, making sure that no monsters would swim too close to our shores. Sure, the Cultivators do focus a lot of their efforts on their own advancements, and they may not interact with Commoners as much. But I think it’s a bit to far to say they don’t care for the Common folks.”

“Your… Your right. I’m sorry, its just… I might have been too caught up in my emotions there. You and your father both helped me so much, I didn’t mean to insult him.”

The young man signs, raising his hand in defeat. Liliac replies with a warm smile.

“Now finish your tea and rest up. Its planting season, you are going to be plenty busy tomorrow too!”

Waving goodbye to Kapin, Liliac heads out of the small clinic and meet up with Feilyn, waiting impatiently further up the road, outside of ear shot. The sun has officially begun its descent into the western horizon, the light of dusk painting the greys and greens of the town in a radiant orange as the two young ladies ascend the Eastern Slopes.

“Why are you still running the clinic today of all day? You should be getting dressed for the ceremony! And where were those 2 kiddos that have been helping you?”

Feilyn whines to Liliac in a huff, her rosy cheeks puffed up like a pair of fresh peaches. The air of superiority that she normally holds herself with now gone as she walks with her close friend.

“Mio’s mother is sick, so she is at home taking care of her. And without her dragging him along, Leo is probably too busy playing with his friends.”

Liliac answers with a smile. Pausing a bit to ponder speaking with Feilyn about her less than amicable encounter with Kapin.

No, today is not a good time to try to fix her relationship with Kapin. She’s not going to listen to anything she doesn’t like to hear when she’s excited. I shouldn’t thoughtlessly dampen her mood. There will be plenty of time in the future, especially once she officially becomes a Cultivator and starts taking leadership lessons from her father.

“And no need to worry Fei, what I’m wearing is fine, I don’t need to be as sophistically dressed as you, who is going to be the center of attention tonight.”

Feilyn blushes a bit but does not reject it. It is the truth, in addition to being the daughter of the Clan Head, Feilyn also showed tremendous potential to become a Cultivator. While there are no absolute signs to indicate a child’s capacity for magic, years of cultivation experiences have concluded some patterns. Children who show signs of being gifted, like high intelligence or super strength, have a greater percentage chance of becoming Cultivators. And Feilyn, who was able to perfectly memorize hundreds of literatures before the age of 10 was certainly one of such cases.

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The two girls walk in quiet laughter as they crest over the island’s rim and begin their descend towards the heart of the basin. The well cobbled streets brightly lit with lantern light as children and parents leaves their homes and make their way to the site of the ceremony. A thin fog permeates the roads as the gatherings traverse deeper into the basin, joined by more groups emerging from between the spacious and decorated estates lining the valley. The air buzzing with a soft excitement in the wake of the Broaden Horizons Ceremony.

The Inner Basin, the high-class area of Mistro isles, situated aptly within the valley basin, houses most of the important architecture of the clan. The elders’ mansions, the Academy, the clan meeting hall, etc. are all located here. The structures constructed from carefully cut stone and curated wood; decorated in all manners of potted plants, coral carvings, or silk banners; spacious floor sizes, with some even having their own individual gardens. All constructed with great emphasis on both visual aesthetics and physical comfort, a clear difference from the cramped and haphazard layout that embodies the Eastern Slopes.

Out of all the ostentatious establishments in the Inner Basin, the most important one will have to be the Garden of Mist. A highly guarded open-air terrace built to surround the Mana Spring that is the heart of the island. During regular days it serves as a small plantation for Mist Gu’s, the rudimentary Gu used by Cultivators of the Mistro isles. However, today it serves an even greater purpose, it is here that the next generation will step onto the path of cultivation.

Mixing in with the crowd, Liliac and Feilyn arrives at their destination. The Garden is protected by a living wall of bamboo, carefully planted, and trimmed to grow into a tight parameter. Much stronger than typical barriers due to being soaked in the mana infused fog that constantly lingers in the heart of the basin. A Cultivator guard can be seen stationed about every 60 feet, with a 3-man patrol passing by every 30 minutes or so. The guards quickly glanced at the large crowd of children and parents as they arrive, before turning their emotionless face back onto whatever empty space they were staring at before. Even on the day of the Ceremony, the security around the Garden of Mists does not budge.

Liliac spots her father standing with another group of parents, looking around nervously, presumably searching for her. Bidding a temporary farewell to Feilyn, who is being ushered elsewhere by a very well-dressed old lady, she rushes up to join her old man.

“There you are my little flower bud! I was worried that you were going to overstay at the clinic again! You gave me quite a scare!”

The large man says to Liliac, his words that of a scolding, but his expression and tone filled with relief and excitement for his daughter.

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything, dad, and Feilyn was there to pick me up as well.”

“Well, all that matters is that you’re here now. Here, these are your new sandals for the ceremony, remember you have to take them off 3 feet before the pool and walk in barefoot.”

Liliac’s father hands her a pair of freshly made straw sandals, with 2 little pink flower weaved into the toe straps so that they sit gracefully on top of her feet.

“Good luck my little flower bud, this is as far as we parents can go. I’ll wait for your good news out here!”

“Alright dad. Remember what I told you, keep on eye out on the kids that leave the Garden early, especially the ones barefoot, and remind their parents to look after them carefully for the next coming week.”

Liliac reminds her father after a big hug, and the large man responds with a serious nodded. For security reasons, only the parents of those attending the Ceremony are allowed to be this close to the heart of the island. And this year, finally gaining front row seats to the action, the pair is determined to reduce the number of emergency house calls tonight.

Soon all the children have parted with their parents and enters the beautifully carved gates of the Garden of Mist, under the guidance of a series of young Cultivators. The Garden itself is like a large pond, with tiled stone paths cutting the surface into multiple squadrons. Fields of cattail like plants are grown in the shallow waters, with light blue, fluorescent mists slowly drift from the turquoise-colored flower bulb, painting the scenery of a magical wonderland.

“Once fully grown, about 1 out of 5,000 Mistborne Cattails can produce a Mist Gu. Given how much ambient mana they need to thrive, here, right beside the Mana Spring, is the only possible place to grow them. That’s why this place is so tightly guarded.”

Feilyn sneaks next to Liliac and explains the importance of the Garden to her. Liliac nods in comprehension. She has learnt a little bit about Gu through various books and by asking her father. Like the famous saying entails: ‘Humanity is the wisest being of all of creation, and Gu is the purist form of all the world’s essence.’, Gu is the laws of the world taken form. Born typically in areas with high concentration of magic, such as extreme or supernatural regions like an underwater volcano or bioluminescent coral reefs. Gu’s can utilize ambient mana to bend the very rules of reality. Conjuring fire, emitting beams of light, or even changing the flow of time. Perhaps to compensate for their tremendous powers, most Gu’s only take the form of tiny insects or plants, with very little intelligence. Thus, human Cultivators, the smartest of all life on this earth, have learnt how to capture, tame, and even grow Gu’s, harnessing their abilities for themselves.

However, despite humanity’s continue development in the field of Gu, they remained a highly prized commodity of the Cultivation world. First, only being able to be born in deadly, magical locations means that capturing natural Gu’s is very dangerous. Not to mention that they tend to form a symbiosis relationship with monsters for protection. Second, growing and subsequently crafting of Gu is highly volatile, requiring specific and rare conditions or materials, with very high chance of failure. The 1 out of 5,000 production rates of the Mistro clan is really very high in comparison with other Gu farms elsewhere. Lastly and most importantly, the individual factor. It is believed that there is an infinite type of Gu’s, with an infinity number of ways to use them. A Gu that suits the needs of one Cultivator may not fit the needs of another, and most Cultivator may never find a Gu that perfectly match the path they are pursuing. Thus, the life of Cultivation almost always revolves around the search for the right Gu.

The Garden of Mists is not a very large area. Soon Liliac and the rest of the children arrives at the heart of the grounds, the heart of the island, the Mana Spring. Looking forward, a small circular pool, about 20 feet in radius and covered by a thick white fog, rests in the shallow waters of the Garden. A deep blue indicating its depths, the surface calm except for a small sprout at the center of the pool. A milky white liquid gently ebbs from the dark blue bowels, the color of the mana stone, before mysteriously turning transparent as it joins the rest of the waters. Tiny specks of light can be seen fluttering above the spring within the fog of vapor mana, like hundreds of fireflies dancing in the mist.

Liliac takes a deep breath, tasting the strangely sweet scent in the air as it tickles her lungs, and feel a refreshing shock down her spine, like downing a chilled drink in the summers heat. Looking to the opposite side of the spring, a raised platform had been built overlooking the pool. A group of elderly cultivators are standing atop it, talking among themselves as they look upon the nervous children. Their voices just loud enough for her to make out the exited tones.

“Hopefully there will be 1 or 2 A tier talents this year, the island hasn’t had one ever since Quorin and Atali 6 years ago!”

“Well, Feilyn is very likely to be one!”

“She is the Clan Head’s daughter, even if she is A tier, there’s no way she will support our interests. Is there anyone else worth paying attention to?”

“Maybe Sandri? The son of the Second Defense Squad’s leader? Or Yurila?

“What about Gurg Mistro’vi’s daughter? The sickly one, she has a gift for medicine at such a young age.”

“Gurg’s daughter? He’s talent is only tier C, and his family is just a Commoner bloodline. It was because of a miracle that he even made it to Rank 3. His daughter would be tier C at most.”

“I guess that’s decent enough. We still need mid to low level Cultivators to do regular tasks, and if she is lucky, she may have a miracle like her father. What was her name again? Leia? Lily?”

The murmurs hushes as a middle-aged man step into view atop the raised platform. Wearing a set of elaborately adorned purple robes with golden trim; failing to hide his large and impressive build. A stern face with a powerful jaw, lightly shaven, the five o’clock shadow further accenting his dominating presence. Black hair with greying sides, piercing sapphire eyes that scans across the grounds, bringing all the children into a respectful attention. Virian Mistro’bai, Feilyn’s father and Clan Head of the Mistro Clan, takes the stage.

“Greeting youngsters. Today you are all gathered here before the most important fork, on the road of your lives. I don’t need to emphasize the significance of this day, but just know that you all are the tomorrow, the hope of the Mistro Clan. And just like the Hope Gu’s that reside in the heart of this island…”

As the man speaks, he swings his arm out in a ‘behold’ gesture. A surge of invisible force emanates from him, sending the fireflies, the Hope Gu’s, into a small frenzy. Their lights shining even brighter than before, mesmerizing Liliac, as well as all the other children.

“…You all will become that hope that shine in the heart of our people! Now, let us get this ceremony started. Academy Elder!”

An elderly woman, with grey and white hair tied into a large bun atop her head, steps in front of the children. Her wrinkled face shifts into a grin, as she lightly taps her walking cane on the ground before the pool. The earth trembles slightly, and Liliac watches in amazement as a small stone bridge raised from the untold depths underneath the water surface, reaching about 10 feet into the pool, and just high enough for her to have her chest above water if she were standing on top of it.

The Academy Elder produces a scroll from seemingly out of nowhere, addressing the crowd with a loud and firm voice contrary to her stature.

“When I call your name, enter the pool and walk to the end of the stone platform. Stand there as long as you can and exit when you cannot take it any longer. Am I understood?”

“Yes!”

Liliac shouts in unison with the rest of the children. The silent atmosphere once again buzzing with nerves and excitement as the Broaden Horizons Ceremony, the starting line to a hope filled future, officially begins.