How?! It asked itself, shocked beyond anything.

It found itself most surprised. The flame knew! The flame knew it existed. It could feel it, in the way the flame gave. The fire didn’t diffuse its warmth randomly anymore, but directly to it.

But how?! It was sure the flame didn’t sense it, for it had hidden when the great fire tried to look.

Even then, it took it all. All of the heat, the snuggly mellowness being addicting, as it whirled around, and pooled, replacing the eternal coldness which had grasped the walls of this building for centuries. It knew happiness. Bliss.

And then, one day, it knew fury.

The flame gave heat… and someone else gulped it all up!

Who dared!

On that day, it thundered, for the robber ventured not to show itself. However, the very walls themselves thrashed in anger, and the floor roared. It raged, and it screamed—the world answering the wrath with the same intensity. An ire which burned as high as the flame itself, and—

Well, maybe not as high, it corrected, feeling most ashamed for daring the comparison.

And, of course, it did all of that once the flame was gone. It didn’t want to scare the sparking fire away with the great power it had…

But still! Vexation suffused it, and the dissatisfaction at being denied the cozy feelings only heightened as time passed and the share it owned had diminished in favor of… of a thief!

And then, it pondered. It pondered some more and came to a conclusion. Surely, the thief had left some traces of itself? Some… hints? It followed the trail of fire, embers becoming guidance.

A path that brought it to the dark edges of… it. There, where familiarity became unknown. Where… something became nothing. The terrifying outside!

It didn’t care anymore. It was determined to find the thief and reclaim what was rightfully it’s. And so… it pushed. It pushed into the great darkness. The great barrier which it had forever found itself stuck behind.

How? It didn’t know. But it did so anyway.

And found earth.

Dirt, stone, leaves, root, trunks, wood, trees… air, mushrooms, soil—

So many new words appeared. Where do they come from?

So many… new things. Where have they been all of this time?

It was fascinated, for it was fascinating. It could no longer grow tired of feeling.

Images flashed in its mind, carving their colors into the soul. What are images? What is… all of this?

And then the sound came. The buzz of the bees, the swing of the leaves when the wind sang its song. The thrum of nature, from the slow rhythm of the trees to the howls of animals, signifying they were all alive.

Is it alive too?

The thief had all but been forgotten by the time the smell came. Overwhelmed, it was surrounded, no gaps of nothingness left. The world… the world was much bigger than it once thought. The world was imposing, for it could see earth stretch into the distance, and never stopping.

...The world was so big it was left dizzy.

It was… beautiful.

Then with that word, the thought of the flame came back. The thief! The memory roared back, ringing loud even amidst the new experiences.

It followed the track, and it ended looking downward. At the earth itself.

It bristled with righteous anger.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

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It was to a loud thump that my sleep was broken. I surged forward, fearing some burglars had broken in.

The patter of my feet towards the direction of the sound was loud, and my eyes were narrowed, ready to fight.

“Those fuckers—”

And I was greeted with the image of a tree, in the nearest courtyard, slapping the ground with furious energy, repeatedly.

I blinked, the sleepiness in my mind still present.

“What... is happening…?” I whispered, a yawn being pushed back by the surging confusion.

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It was defeated. No matter how hard it attacked the earth, it had no effect.

The thief was too strong.

Not only the great power it possessed had no effect here, for it couldn’t even move the smallest leaf, while even the tallest of trees would bow down to the strength it held when behind the barrier, but it had even been defeated in a contest of pure prowess. The earth remained unfazed after the surge of attacks.

It was most displeased.

Retreat would be the most logical option. And it was the one it took. But it would get revenge on the dishonorable thief, and one day, when it was stronger, it would take back all that had been stolen.

This, it swore!

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When my hand caressed the frame of the old painting on the wall, I felt something ripple through the wooden slabs making up the floor.

“Hmm?”

Was it my imagination? I turned my head left and right, the small ball of fire rotating over my head like a satellite following my movement. Turned out having an affinity to fire allowed me to have a degree of self-sufficiency I never would have expected before.

Who needed techniques when you could just mold your qi into whatever you wanted it to be.

I walked a couple of steps back, and peeked around the corner, getting the view of one of the courtyards. The tree in the middle sprouted from the ground like a cone, sending its branches in every direction. Though most of its orange leaves were scattered on the ground, shifting ever-so-slightly as the breeze came and went, a few remained on it, tenaciously.

I blinked, twice just to be sure. Then with a sigh, I closed the door, the natural white light disappearing from the corridor as only my flame remained—yellow, in color.

And then I extended my qi sense abruptly, as far as possible, from me to the edge of this compound...

Nothing.

“Hmm…”

Either I was going crazy, or I was putting too much trust in my qi sense. One of my hands came to my face, rubbing my temples as I closed my eyes for a second.

I knew staying for too long with these nutjobs would mess something up with me. I should have left the moment I realized what kind of world I was in.

I returned to my previous task, of getting rid of all the extra decorations, which had gathered so much dust by now they seemed to be buried underneath it. Paintings, however, still displayed the craft of their creators. A craft often wasted on really horrible scenes.

Seriously, who paints someone half-naked standing upon a sea of corpses? Or who paints someone bathing in blood and petals of roses? This is some seriously nasty stuff right there.

Maybe I was just being sensitive, and culturally insensitive, but this place was mine now, and I’ll be damned if I have pictures of random cultivator lady number twenty-five destroying entire civilization in a quest for power just hanging in my corridors.

I glanced at the rest of the corridor, wooden frames burning in my palm, as the scent of flaming paint wafted in my nose once more. In a matter of seconds, nothing but ashes were left. If there was one thing great about being a cultivator, it was that I spent days settling matters that would have taken months otherwise.

Only one week after my arrival, most of the work needed around the compound had been achieved. I was no professional, but I’d like to say I did a decent job at repairing what needed repairing, and removing what needed removing.

Well, I was nearly done with the second part anyway. After that, stocking up food for the winter, as well as wood, and I would be ready to start recruiting.

Wood because using qi to create light was quite wasteful, just like how I was lighting up the dark halls of the compound. And the qi could be better used to reinvigorate the land instead. Though that was a long-term project, one which I was slightly hesitant to go forth with because it would attract… cultivators.

And I wanted nothing to do with them. Unfortunately, some of my plans would have to rely upon the rebirth of qi in my lands. Cultivation drugs would not be making themselves, and I would prefer to farm the ingredients by myself in my backyard instead of crossing the sea once more to get them.

But enough of that, I had a job to finish.

When I placed my fingers, the index first, on the next painting—

“Now!” A pulse of qi wriggled through the building.

...Nothing.

My brows furrowed, and I pursed my lips.

“Show yourself, Casper...” I joked, in a half-tired, half-amused tone, shoulders already slumping.

I was really going crazy here. First, the trees, then this… Pushing those thoughts to the side, I placed my right hand against the wall in front of me, closed my eyes…

As I saw the first time, and also as I expected, some qi was left in this building. It was unused and felt like leftovers of a greatness forgotten. It was deprived of any purpose, and it felt old.

So I gave it some of mine. Like trying to light back up a flame that had fizzled out years ago. It would take time, but just like the earth itself, I would see it back to its previous glory.

No, I would elevate it even further, away from the people whose endless greed for power was their only attribute. And then it would thrive, for generations to come.

And so, I thought, because this was the only way to give voice to my soul.

What is fire?

Many things. Too many, to be honest. A staple of humanity, of civilization. It took as many shapes as it could, and suffused our lives from the moment it was created.

But for now… it would only be one thing. The fire that kept us warm in the frost. The fire that lit the darkness of loneliness. The fire that cooked our food, keeping us from going hungry. The fire that gathered us all around, brought us closer, singing under the stars painted on the black sky.

Memories of a time gone that now seemed so far away surged, bringing a sad smile with it. A smile reminiscent of the past. Of my family.

I fed it… the flame of home, the fire of a hearth, crackling with laughter. For that was how I envisioned my sect.

It doesn’t matter if it takes time… I thought with a distant gaze. One to the future.

If nothing else, time was a resource I had in abundance.