Dan was dreaming. At least, he was fairly certain that’s what was happening. No other suggestions that his mind threw out were sensible enough to consider. What he was seeing had to be a creation of his unconscious, maybe even dying mind. He found that he wasn’t worried that he was dying. The view was too nice.

Far above the clouds of his world, Dan sat on a beam of sunlight, his legs waving happily through the corona. Beside him, stars and moons danced a complicated set of steps, all in sync with each other as they twirled around and around. The snaking wisps of white and black below, calm clouds of shade and angry thunderheads of tempestuous force, roiled over each other like snakes vying for space.

Where he could see the world, he saw life and happiness and love. He saw bountiful harvest, and peace between man and monster. He laughed to see a gargantuan toad hopping from small village to small village, carrying people upon its great back, baskets of wicker keeping them secure as it made its huge bounds. A bird made of fire warmed houses at night, keeping winter’s chill at bay. The sea moved excitedly, the waves themselves seeming to encourage travel upon them.

To say this was a wonderland, compared to what he knew of the world itself, was almost an understatement. In Dan’s world, the monsters were everywhere, and some of them were human. The waves were dangerous, not inviting. Somehow, knowing these things were different made Dan certain that this couldn’t be a dream. As though if he were dreaming, it would be impossible for him to know that things should be different.

That, and Dan was also pointedly ignoring the weeping to his side. It had been growing in pitch since Dan touched down on his bench of sunlight. The world below sang of joy and wonder, but that was not enough to calm the wailing beside him. It almost seemed as if each development on the world below, each fantastical occurrence, made the sorrow deeper.

Though it seemed impossible, Dan felt something akin to nostalgia at the sound. Something about the pitch, the tempo, the voice in the tears… Dan could feel a history between himself and them. It scared him.

Of course, he was just putting off the inevitable.

Nonchalant, Dan stretched and fell back. The sky above was not truly sky. It was the expansive everything that held the sky and the world within it. Despite himself, he gasped in reverence to this new beauty. The sight steeled Dan’s spirit slightly. Whoever was crying just needed to be reminded to take in their surroundings, that would surely cheer them up.

Finally turning his head to his left, Dan saw her.

A divine being sat beside him. Its heavenly body was coiled around itself, her arms hugging her crossed legs tight to her chest. Her celestial head was buried in the limbs, bobbing with each gasped weep. Now that he had looked, there was nothing else that he could see. The majesty of the world below paled in comparison a hundredfold. Dan could understand why one so beautiful might not see the wonder around them.

“Hello?” He spoke clearly and hopefully, though received no reaction from the goddess. It felt as though there were hidden rules to this interaction, and Dan considered his next words carefully. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Dan shrivelled as her gaze moved to him. He wanted to take his words back, they were the wrong ones clearly. The face of such immaculate sadness brought the full bore of her despair upon Dan. It stole the breath from him. No amount of empathy would allow him to feel the weight of its entirety.

“You cannot help me. It’s your fault.”

Her voice carried itself upon perfect pitch, despite cracking on the word “your”. Her heavenly verdict tore Dan’s soul to shreds, her admonishment carrying the certainty of omniscience. If one knew all, as she must, she could not be wrong.

“What have I done?” Dan pleaded, frantic. “Surely it cannot be so devastating, Goddess?”

“You are the one who left me empty. We caused this.”

Again her words reverberated with the vibrations of truth and clarity, leaving no argument. He did not understand, but as her words again ravaged his emotions, he felt a dreadful fear take hold of himself. He knew this feeling well.

Suddenly, Dan was scattered.

He would have screamed but his being was torn from his mind. He watched as the fragments of himself fell from their space above the sky and rained down onto the happy planet below. This was more clarity than he normally had as he made planetfall in his dreams.

This did not feel like his dreams. No, there was more substance, more understanding and more horror. The planet below would not, does not, survive his fall. While it made no sense, while there only seemed to be additional questions and no answers, this was the truth. He had, somehow, fallen onto this planet and caused cataclysm.

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This was the memory that caused his nightmares.

“We created much together, you and I.” The goddess’ words found Dan even though he had no ears to hear with. “Much more than this small, irrelevant ball. You gave up though, and left me.”

Each of the meteoric fragments were known to Dan as they fell. They fell as shards, as weapons. They warped the land where they fell, raising mountains and carving valleys. The monsters screamed and began attacking the people of the land. The giant toad flipped onto his back, the flaming bird became a scorching blaze of fiery wings. The oceans vomited tidal waves and sea monsters from its once peaceful shores.

Much, much later, the final piece of him fell as a tiny feather into a teacup.

“I still do not understand. I am just an empty weakling.” Dan did not argue that it was himself, but how could it be? What had he been? A being that walked with a goddess? It sounded too incredible to be true.

“Empty? That is what they call me, also. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

That was the final message that Dan heard. He cherished the words, locking them into his memory so that they would never fall away from him. He kept his eyes closed even as his mana started to make him aware of the room around him. Dan hoped that if he didn’t open his eyes, he might somehow fall back into that place, but that was impossible.

Before they knew he was awake, Dan knew that Xiaomei and Hyun Soon were in the room. Dan might have smirked to see them dozing next to each other if he did not also feel terrible, in both mind and body. Caught in a strange limbo between laughing and crying, Dan simply chose to stay still.

He cycled his mana instead. He focused on the familiarity he felt within it, relieved that his core did not feel alien or strange to him. His mana bounced around the room, flowing outside and returning Dan’s sense of understanding for his surroundings. He was still in his room, but the silent caretaker was nowhere to be seen. It was quiet in the Jiaoduo, as far as Dan could tell. Had the impending conflict between Po Shang and his brother, the patriarch, not occurred? Dan had felt sure it was a simple spark away from exploding, and that Xiaomei might have been the ignition.

If she wasn’t, what did that mean?

No answers were springing to mind, so instead Dan gave up on trying to break back into his dream and sat up instead. Hyun Soon was on the verge of snoring but Xiaomei’s gasp made him jump and they were soon both crowded around him, though neither of them were sure of what to do for him. As he turned to them, a habit that he carried over from before blindness, they both stopped and stared.

When neither of them deigned to explain, Dan instead asked the obvious question. “What’s so interesting?”

Hyun Soon pointed to Dan. “Your face.” Dan couldn’t place the emotion in Hyun’s voice and he instinctively made to cover his face with his hood. “No, wait. It’s not bad.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Dan’s hand was frozen over his shoulder, gripping the hood ready to throw it down, “what’s so interesting then? Because last I checked, it was pretty bad.” Dan tried to be brave about it, but he knew that he was hard to look at.

“Dan, open your eyes.” Xiaomei’s voice was solid. She was leaning forward, hands on the foot of Dan’s bed, looking at him intently.

“There’s-,” Dan cleared his throat as it filled with thorny emotion, “there’s no eyes there.”

“Try. Trust me.”

So he did, and the world laid out before him. Far too bright, he shut them again quickly, but for only a moment. While Dan could perceive the space around him with his mana, it was different. He had also never seen anything like this.

He could see his own mana, glistening dewdrops of power floating through the air. He could see Xiaomei’s mana, straight lines of multi-coloured glory reading to spring and dance from her like the ribbons she used. An afterimage of orange-red armour sat upon Hyun Soon, covering his whole body instead of just his arms.

“What did you do?” Dan asked in wonder.

“It wasn’t us, Dan. You’re the one who saved Mei,” Hyun answered him, “and then you were all tangled in ribbons on the ceiling, and then the really old Guan lady came in…” He trailed off, leaving further explanation, if it was to come, to Xiaomei.

“Elder Yaya?” Dan asked. “Where is she now?”

“She’s waiting for you, she said she would wait near the tree that you first met?” Xiaomei looked slightly awed, slightly worried, and neither emotion was winning out over the other. “She told us it was life or death that you get that message.”

Another question without a clear answer. Why was Elder Yaya waiting near the orphanage? Why hadn’t she just stayed here? Dan’s frustration kept increasing with each mystery that piled up. “Why can’t anyone just explain things properly?” He looked his friends in the eyes, smiling as they did. “Are you coming with me?”

“She said for you to go alone…” Hyun Soon looked slightly dejected as he said it.

“I’m tired of everyone making rules that only we have to follow. One more time, are you going to come with me? This whole place is going to erupt soon… And,” Dan emphasised, “I’m fairly sure that Po Daiyu will end up in my way.”

Dan smiled. He wasn’t trying to manipulate his friends, but he did want their help. He would be able to do anything if they had his back, he knew it. Guan Po Daiyu was a helpful target to aim the three of themselves at. Dan was a little shocked at how much Xiaomei specifically agreed, but without complaint, Dan took his friends to see what Guan Shi Ai had to say.

The large camphor tree that had shaded Dan’s sleep so long ago seemed a little smaller now. He would be able to leap high into its branches easily, now. It would have been tempting if not for the fierce stare he was receiving from Elder Yaya.

“That doesn’t look like alone to me.” Elder Yaya spoke curtly, almost as though there was someone invisible, sat to her side.

“Anything you can say to me, I’ll tell them anyway.” Dan’s patience had been whittled to nothing from his time in his quaint, wooden cell in the middle of the Jiaoduo. Even in the time that he had been kept behind bars, brought out only to fight, he had been able to get stronger and stronger. There was a collision with fate on the horizon and the time for being timid has passed.

“Some secrets are secrets for a reason, Guan Ah Dan.” The sound of her voice, like gentle winds brushing through tired leaves, would always disarm Dan slightly. He felt a little ashamed to have held some anger towards the woman in himself, however slight. She had left him in a cage. He was sure she had her reasons, but to Dan, that had been the result.

“Too bad.” Memories of sitting opposite Guan Po Daiyu, their battle, the subsequent period of time spent in that quiet room with a quiet caretaker. Each a small thorn that kept Dan combative. “I’m tired of secrets, so I’m not giving them much thought any more. Please, Elder Yaya.”

There must have been something in Dan’s voice, or maybe his now healed eyes were specifically impressive, but whatever it was, Dan’s words seemed to convince her of something.

“We knew you were the right choice. It’s why we sent you to the Man-shik boy.” Again, she acted as though there was another person a part of the conversation. “It’s not good for the young to be confused. We don’t always do the right thing, but we did when we helped you.”

“Forgive me, but are you talking of Elder Yaya?” Dan’s confusion at her mannerism was distracting him from her words slightly. What did she mean by right choice? Why had they chosen him? “It’s time I knew the truth.”