As someone who has experienced more than my fair share of grief, let me just say that there is no ‘normal’ way to grieve.

It’s perfectly natural to grieve, because that’s how we respond to loss. Losing your health, your hair, your job, your financial stability, almost anything can trigger the grieving process, and it’s totally normal. For example, I’ve been grieving the loss of my Core and Spiritual Weapons for almost a year now, and Alsantset is still grieving the loss of her home in the village. Mom grieves the loss of her youth, and Grandpa Du is inconsolable over ‘losing’ Yan, despite living with us in our manor and seeing her everyday. Grief is unavoidable, but what makes it particularly difficult to deal with is that every loss affects you differently. The loss of a beloved friend isn’t the same as losing a close subordinate, nor is losing a job the same as losing a home, and because of this, there can be no ‘normal’ when it comes to grief. This isn’t the same as saying there’s no right way to grieve, but what’s right for one person and situation might not be right for another. Much like the Martial Path, we must all forge our own way through grief, though it’s always nice to have support to fall back on.

As for me, I’ve had eight years to grieve the loss of my former life, and I still haven’t come to terms with my new circumstances. So while I have plenty of experience with grief, I’m hardly an expert on the subject matter, the same way being an alcoholic doesn’t qualify you as a sommelier.

“I don’t understand,” I hear myself say, standing over Guan Suo’s corpse and feeling as if I’m no longer in control of anything. “How can he be dead? He’s an Ancestral Beast, a Divinity, a powerful Warrior standing at the pinnacle of Martial might...”

Stupid question, but Dad takes it in stride. “Death comes for us all,” he says, drawing me into his embrace, and though my first instinct is to pull away out of pique, I instead lean in against him. “But your friend has gone into the Mother’s warm embrace, and will eventually emerge a new person to experience the cycle of reincarnation once more. Such is life, trials and tribulations without end, but take solace, for Guan Suo has found... respite.”

Reincarnation. Even knowing it’s real and possible is no comfort as I come to grips with the truth, because Guan Suo’s death sits squarely on my shoulders. He didn’t want this, never wanted to be a part of the war effort, but I forced his hand. Not on purpose, but it was still my fault, because if it wasn’t for me, he’d be back in the outskirts of Ping Yao and living the quiet life with Ping Ping, instead of lying here dead in the grass at her feet. Yes, he was a Divinity and could make his own decisions, but at Sinuji, he stepped out to protect me, to protect Ping Ping, to protect the soldiers of the Empire, and for this, he paid the ultimate price.

What makes things so much worse is how utterly miserable the big girl looks as she stands utterly still over him, her arms cradled and eyes lowered onto her old friend’s body as if she too cannot accept his death and is waiting for him to wake. It breaks my heart to see her in such distress, but there’s nothing I can say or do to ease her pain. Truth be told, I don’t think I’m doing much better than she is. I keep watching Guan Suo and waiting for him to open his eyes and tell me to quit gawking or demand something to eat, but I know he never will. There is a stillness in death that cannot be overlooked, no matter how much you might wish to, if only to give yourself a sense of false hope.

Mom quietly asks me to send my Death Corps away with orders to secure the park perimeter and keep all unrelated persons away. I comply without question because it gives me something to do besides fixate on this loss. When that’s done, I return to find a growing crowd gathered around Ping Ping, and take my place at the front with Rustram and Sai Chou on my left, Mila, Song and their parents on my right, and my parents staunchly standing behind me. Other members of the Protectorate close in around us, though it shames me to admit I don’t know their names or even recognize their faces. Sai Chou wordlessly greets each of them in turn as they take their place for this impromptu wake, and it’s all I can do to remain standing as the truth rears its ugly head.

Guan Suo is dead, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. We weren’t the closest friends, but we were friends, and I’d gotten so used to having him around, even when I didn’t know where he was. Most days, the only indication I’d get of his presence was when I’d look down at my plate and find some food missing, which I always thought was both aggravating and adorable. He couldn’t just sit down for dinner with the rest of us like a normal person, and I could never figure out why, but that’s just how he was. A gruff, cantankerous grouch who preferred to keep his own company, but when push came to shove, his actions showed he cared about my well-being.

He was loved and will be missed, as evidenced by the teary faces in the crowd, and his absence has left a gaping hole in my chest. Not sure if that matters much in the long run, but it is what it is.

For long minutes, no one speaks as everyone gets in place, and I recognize a few other faces in the crowd. Yan and Grandpa Du are here, as is Kyung, Luo-Luo, Lin-Lin, and Guard Leader, all standing off to one side in sombre silence. The adorable old wolf is also present, though there’s no sign of Huu or Ghurda, but it’s nice to know the old codger bonded with Guan Suo over their dinner time arguments. Mama Gam, the Bull, and the Rhino Ancestral Beasts are also present, looking sombre and subdued over the death of a peer, though I’ve no idea how they knew he’d be here or why they didn’t bother trying to help him fight. Fu Zhu Li stops by, looking almost none the worse for wear save for a minor slump of his shoulders and a slight quiver of sleeves which hide trembling hands, signs of fatigue from overwork and no doubt self-recrimination for his failure to save Guan Suo.

I don’t blame him though, or if I do, I blame him less than myself. He did what he could to save Guan Suo, while I steered my friend towards his untimely demise.

The crowd holds many unfamiliar faces and a disproportionate number of unique demi-humans, some clearly from the Protectorate and others whose clean, embroidered outfits and tidy appearances stick out like a sore thumb. It belatedly occurs to me that many of these mysterious demi-humans might actually be Ancestral Beasts, and I lower my eyes on instinct, not wanting to draw the attention of another Divinity for reasons I don’t entirely understand.

It’s terrifying, standing beside someone who can not only kill you, but also everyone around you with little more than a thought. It’s doubly terrifying now that I know I’d be nothing more than collateral damage if I’m standing at ground zero during a clash of Divinities. Instead of fretting however, I turn my attention to studying Guan Suo’s body and do what little I can to try and process this loss. He does look peaceful, with the wrinkles around his eyes more slack than ever, and I can almost make out a smile, though it’s probably just his jaw muscles growing stiff after death. That’s my biggest problem when it comes to grief, my inability to simply let things be coupled with an incessant need to dwell on the cold, hard facts and immutable truths. Sure, I’ve got memories of a past life, but how do I know I’m not just insane? Besides, what warm embrace of the Mother? I’ve no recollection of that, only fear, confusion, and panic after waking up from a death I cannot remember.

Will that happen to Guan Suo in his next life? Will he also forget everything that matters from this life? Will he remember Ping Ping and the bond they shared, or will he just have an underlying fondness for turtles? Will he grow up in a happy home with a family who loves him, or is he doomed to a bleak existence in a desolate land, fighting for every scrap and morsel he can get? Will he even be human? Or a red panda? Or capable of cognizant thought?

Does it even matter? If we’re all reborn after we die, what’s the point of doing anything at all?

The Penitent Brotherhood had one thing right. Life is suffering, but death? Death is easy. Guan Suo has found the ultimate peace and will no longer be troubled by pain or suffering. His fight, his struggle, his war is over, for he has been given the peace of the sword, and no longer needs to concern himself with the trials and tribulations of this world. Dad is right; Guan Suo has more than earned this respite, and I wish him all the best in whatever might await him.

There are no speeches given or anecdotes shared at this wake, and this silent farewell feels lacking for a man who gave his life to save tens of thousands of strangers. I don’t think Guan Suo would care for any thanks or applause, because he only did what he did to save one, cherished friend. Then again, it occurs to me that if Ping Ping’s safety was all he cared about, he could easily have dragged me away with her long before the second battle for Sinuji took place. Hell, he could’ve demanded I stay in the Northern Province in exchange for his help, and I’m sure the Legate and whatever powers that be would have happily sidelined me without a second thought, but Guan Suo didn’t do that. Instead, he requested to join my retinue and lent me the aid of his Protectorate, followed me out on patrol and watched over me from the shadows. I’ll never know why he did that, or how much he truly helped me, because he never bothered taking credit, but having seen how comfortable Enemy Divinities are with skirting the Treaty, I’m positive I owe him my life several times over. His mere presence was probably enough to keep them from trying anything too overboard, and for this, I am grateful.

For this fallen master, a veritable peak existence in this world we inhabit and reluctant hero of the Empire who saved who knows how many lives, all we can spare are a handful of silent minutes before the crowd disperses without ceremony. Only my family is left behind, as well as Sai Chou and Rustram, who exchange a few quiet words with Mila before slinking off into the night. My parents expect me to leave soon after, but I shake my head and gesture towards Mila and Ping Ping, indicating I don’t want to leave either of them alone. Neither one has really moved since I arrived, and I’m not sure I’m handling this any better than they are, because there’s a part of me that wanted to kick and scream at all those Divinities for not doing more than they did, for leaving Guan Suo, Gang Shu, and the Abbot to fight their battle unaided. Another part of me wants to howl at the Heavens for allowing this injustice to stand, while most of me just wants to sit down and let the numbness sink in.

Because there’s a tiny, minuscule, insignificant portion of my brain wondering what would happen if I tried to Devour Guan Suo’s body. I mean, being an Ancestral Beast means he reforged his body with Heavenly Energy, which is what Demons do, so wouldn’t Devouring his corpse be the same as Devouring Demons? Probably not, but I really should try, because when will I ever get another chance to? If I could, I would lobotomize this specific part of my brain, because I can’t help but try to justify it. Would it be wrong to benefit from his death? That’s not Guan Suo, those are his earthly remains, an empty husk that will rot away in time, so what does it matter if I make use of it? I mean, who knows, maybe Ping Ping’s just making sure Guan Suo’s really gone before chowing down on his corpse. Maybe Mila and Husolt are eyeballing his bones for new Spiritual Weapons, or those other Ancestral Beasts were thinking about making a play for the body themselves. If someone is going to benefit, then why not me?

God I hate myself sometimes...

Thankfully, I manage to keep my questions to myself, because I’ve already caused Guan Suo’s death and have no desire to desecrate his remains, nor would I be able to ever forgive myself if I did. After some time, Mom and Dad usher everyone else away and leave me alone with Mila and Ping Ping on the field underneath the starry night sky. As if on cue, Mila begins to talk, telling me about her conversation with Guan Suo before his death, and despite her listless, droning narration, I can tell how much it hurts her to know how he felt about her, how he thought they were both better off without one another. “And then he told me to tell you to look after Ping Ping,” Mila concludes, the pain evident in her voice, if not her expression. “Those were his last words. Said to bring her away and let the Imperials fight their own battles, and that’s it. He didn’t apologize, didn’t wish things were different, didn’t even claim he wanted to be different, just... ‘I couldn’t keep you, because I couldn’t stop wanting to kill you’, and that’s that.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

It’s hard not to wince as Mila vents her frustrations, unable to come to terms with her sorrow and anger which pains her so. She’s hurting because she so desperately wants to believe Guan Suo’s death doesn’t mean anything to her, but it’s not that simple. Like it or not, he was her father, or her progenitor as she prefers to call him, and it’s human nature to want that to mean something.

And it’s human nature to want your kids to live long and happy lives.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant.” Speaking before I think better of it, I wrap my arm around Mila’s waist and gesture at Guan Suo. “From what I can tell, it sounds like Guan Suo wanted you to understand why he couldn’t raise you himself, which sounds like regret to me.” Mila sniffles, but doesn’t say anything as she leans into my embrace, which I take as a sign to keep talking. “I cannot imagine his struggles, nor can I know what it’s like to lose so many loved ones over the course of one lifetime, but... what he said, about wanting to love and cherish your beautiful smile, he meant it, but his bestial half wouldn’t let him.”

“Then why not find me when I was older?” Mila’s innocent tone and dismal expression punches me in the gut, and it’s all I can do to stay standing. “Why didn’t he tell me he was my father? Lots of Ancestral Beasts seek out their children when they’re older. Look at Gang Shu and the Gams...”

The answer comes easily, though I can see why Mila can’t see it. “Because, my love, his bestial self kept him from raising you, but his human half made him afraid to love you.” Stepping closer so I can hold her in both arms, I hug Mila tight and pray for her safety and longevity, because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. “He told you about his parents and his first wife, about how he’d forgotten their faces, but I guarantee you the pain and sorrow from losing them is still going strong.” I should know. I can’t remember the faces of my parents from my first life, but my heart still aches when I think of them, which quite frankly, is absurd and unfair. “Multiply that by however many years he’s lived and relationships he’s lost, and it adds up to a whole lot of pain and suffering. Look at how he lived all this time we’ve known him, alone and without companionship. He even kept his distance from the Protectorate, and they were his own people. I don’t think he did it because he hates social interaction, but because he’s afraid of getting hurt again. That’s why he only rarely sat down for dinner with us, and that’s why he stayed so close to Ping Ping and founded the Protectorate to look after her, because she is one of the few friendships he can have that he wouldn’t outlive.”

“...And even then, he revealed himself to me.” Trembling in my arms, Mila whispers, “The first day I arrived in Nan Ping, he showed himself unprompted after I greeted Ping Ping. I always thought it was so he could laugh at my ignorance, but he told me everything he felt I needed to hear then, and only repeated himself today. At the end... he said he envied us demi-humans, because he truly believed he was less than human, and that his children were better off without him.” Her tears slide down her cheeks and mingle with mine as we mourn and pity this poor, tortured man. “How terrible it must have been, to live so long believing himself a monster...”

“Which ironically proves just how human he really was.” Sighing, I hug Mila tight and explain, “A real beast wouldn’t care, they simply do what they feel is right, and then move on with their lives without remorse, because remorse is a human emotion, one beasts have no time to indulge.” The fact that Guan Suo never realized this makes his death all the more tragic, and my guilt weighs heavily upon my shoulders, but now is not the time to succumb to my pain because Mila, strong, stoic, dependable Mila, needs my support.

Having said all that needs to be said, we stand together and cry while Ping Ping quietly mourns the loss of her friend. Mom soon returns with blankets for me and Mila before retreating without a word, and in time, we make use of them and sit down next to the big girl. I’m not gonna lie, it kinda stings that Ping Ping won’t let me sit inside her arms and even forcibly nudges me back when I try to press the issue, but I guess she’s feeling protective of her oldest and closest friend. This doesn’t stop her from checking in on me every few minutes, lifting her head to peer over her arm and see if I’m still there, which eventually leads to us tentatively moving over to lean against her shoulder. Finally reassured of my constant presence, Ping Ping goes back to standing vigil for Guan Suo while I brainstorm ways to help her come to terms with her loss, but I’m not qualified to help people cope with their grief, much less animals.

I hope Ping Ping will get over this in time on her own, but if there’s anything I can do to speed along the process, I’d do it just to save her the heartache. I can’t even imagine what it’d be like to have a relationship spanning so many centuries, or however long it takes to go from beast to Ancestral Beast, much less how I would react if it ended abruptly. I do know that animals understand death though, and are more accepting of it than most humans, so hopefully, she’ll bounce back from this loss and go back to her cheerful, chipper self soon enough.

As for Mila, I’m not worried about her in the slightest. I’ll be here to support her as needed, but she’s a strong girl with a family who loves her, and she knows it. Before I even know it, my fiery wife is fast asleep in my arms, her expression troubled, but not tortured, which is better than I could manage in her stead. Or in my stead, considering I’m handling this much worse than she is. Not only do I feel guilty for getting Guan Suo into the mess which got him killed, I also have survivor’s guilt and a slew of other doubts and conceits about what I could or should have done to prevent Guan Suo’s death, not to mention my long list of personal psychoses to deal with. On top of all that, I can’t get the idea of Devouring Guan Suo’s body out of my brain, and I feel like Ping Ping’s behaviour proves that she believes that it’s possible. Why else would she keep me away from Guan Suo’s corpse? I don’t want to think too hard about it though, because it makes me feel like a monster, doubly so since it’s something Ping Ping wouldn’t like, so I simply close my eyes, do my best to ignore all my intrusive thoughts, and wait for peaceful slumber to arrive, all while quietly humming to maybe soothe Ping Ping’s nerves.

So worked up by my atrocious grieving process, it doesn’t even occur to me that I might end slipping into Ping Ping’s Natal Palace, but that’s exactly where I find myself soon enough. One second, I’m drifting off with Mila in my arms, and the next, I’m here in Ping Ping’s river of happy fun friend time, except it’s feeling a little light on the happy, fun, and friends. Colour too, as if the brightness, contrast, and saturation settings have all been taken down a few notches. An appropriately human response to grief and mourning, but surprising when coming from a turtle, as I’m not entirely certain if turtles can even see colour.

Usually, the diminutive Natal form of the big girl greets me at the same mud bank every time I pop in to visit, but today, she jumps me directly to the grove of red pandas, where she sits mournfully in the embrace of Guan Suo’s giant red panda’s form, lying there dead as he is in real life. For some reason, knowing the whole story and seeing him like this just makes his loss all the more poignant for me, and I can’t help but break into tears at the sight, especially since all the other red pandas are absent too. In fact, there’s no life at all in her normally bustling Natal Palace, the significance of which escapes me as Ping Ping rears her head and lets loose with a piteous squeak of mourning as she looks to me to fix this, but I can’t.

“I’m sorry Ping Ping,” I begin, already sobbing from her sentimental display of affection. “He’s gone, and I can’t bring him back.” Out of some misguided sense of empathy, I unleash my Aura to share my grief and let her know I feel the same way, but this only makes things worse as my anguish compounds her misery and her wailing squeaks redouble. Realizing my mistake too late, I try to think happy thoughts and share a more comforting emotion with her, but to do so would require feeling more comforting emotions, but we’re locked in a feedback loop of angst and distress. My misery made her more miserable which in turn is making me even more miserable, and now there’s nothing to do except be miserable together in an endless echo chamber of misery.

Or so I believe, right up until Ping Ping’s squeaks culminate into a plaintive shriek which shatters the Natal Palace around us. Gone are the clear, flowing waters and verdant bamboo stalks, the fluffy white clouds and the warm, inviting sun, the playful, chittering animals and curious, friendly observers. In their place is nothing but the bleak emptiness of the Void, with darkness stretching out in every direction save for Ping Ping, Red Panda Guan Suo, and myself.

No, that’s not true. The darkness of the Void surrounds us, but something lurks within, writhing and wriggling almost invisibly against the darkness. Ping Ping pays no attention to her surroundings, and instead is wholly lost in wailing and mourning her friend, but I can see the Void closing in around us. There is no sense of motion, only magnification, as if neither group is moving across the Void, but rather the Void is drawing us closer together. I’ve seen this before once, and soon, it becomes clear who waits at the other end, as the disembodied Spectres come into view, teeming and swarming in unbridled excitement at the prospect of new life and succour.

Mahakala called them itinerant souls who’ve broken free from the cycle of Reincarnation, ones who seek nihility for all, but I never agreed with his description. For starters, I’ve seen a Spectre birth first-hand, and unless Jorani is walking around without a soul, there’s no way Spectres are souls, not to mention the fact that they seem more eager to rejoin existence as Demon’s rather than end it for all.

Act now, theologize later, dumbass.

Driven into a frenzy from hunger or whatever they feel, the dark mass of Spectres push and claw at an invisible barrier, which I assume would be the outer surface of Ping Ping’s Core. Once in, they will not turn her Defiled, because as an animal, she lacks the nuanced mind for Defilement. That’s nothing more than a pit stop to total Spectre takeover, but Ping Ping won’t be taking any stops and will jump straight to Demonization, at which point I will lose the poor girl forever and be forced to end her misery, preferably before the Demon she become grinds me and Mila into meat paste.

Way to fuck things up Rain. Between Emotional Aura and Natal Palace deep-diving, you just whipped up a quick, two-step recipe to full Demonization.

Without stopping to think, I turn and leap onto the grieving Ping Ping. Clutching her close, I push aside my fear and misery and reach for the only weapons I have: love and happiness.

The first memory that comes to mind is the first time we met, when I woke up from my meditative bath and found her hanging around outside, looking so curious and adorable with Lin-Lin on her head. I was scared, but also delighted, especially once she let loose with her dainty little squeal, and I remembered hoping that this would be the start of a wonderful friendship.

It was. And I’m not ready for it to end.

Next comes my first visit to her Natal Palace, when I saw how tiny and cute she was, and how my heart sang as she scampered around aggressively snuggling and tippy tapping away. I remember thinking how restrained she must always feel, having to tiptoe carefully around people, buildings, and tiny animals, but her kind, considerate nature wouldn’t allow her to do anything less. Here in her Natal Palace, she was free to be as wild and rambunctious as she pleased, and even had the elephant-sized Red Panda Guan Suo to snuggle with, not to mention a whole host of furry, adorable critters which she so adored.

That visit proved what I’d known all along: Ping Ping loves floofs as much as I do, which makes her a kindred spirit.

The memories flow through my mind at rapid speed, like the first time she drank my bathwater, our first swim in Nan Ping Bay together where she played with the quins, when I shared what I learned from my second Awakening, or her darling reaction to the giant rubber ball I had made for her. All of these memories evoke a torrent of emotions, and I share them all with Ping Ping as best I can, praying I get through before it’s too late and snap her out of this downward spiral of depression.

And it works. Her squeals soon die down and her eyes go wide with surprise, shocked that she’s no longer in her comfy Natal Palace. Unsure what to do, she goes into battle mode and scans her surroundings before looking to me for guidance, but not only do I not have a solution to share, I wouldn’t be able to convey it to her if I did. “Yea...” I drawl, knowing there are probably better uses of my time, but unsure what they might be. “I was kinda hoping you’d be able to... you know... mind magic the spooky Spectres away.”

Eyes wide with fear and panic, Ping Ping eyes the Spectres, shuffles her feet, huffs once, twice, then darts over to give me a quick nuzzle before the Void disappears around me. Coming to with a start, I find myself back in the real world with Ping Ping’s arm at my back and Mila in my arms. Struggling to get up from under the weight of my wife, I yell, “Mila wake up! Combat ready!”

To her credit, my normally groggy wife leaps to her feet and reaches for weapons which are not there, which only slows her for half a blink as her hands curl into fists and her lips curl into a snarl. Unable to properly appreciate the fearsome and fetching sight, I turn to Ping Ping and find her enormous form rippling and shimmering, not glowing with light per se, but undulating in ways that have nothing to do with her physical self.

My throat closes and stomach twists as Ping Ping raises her head and shrieks, not the cute, adorable squeals she so often gave, but a sharp, inhuman, unreal scream which cuts to the very core of my being.

She knew what was happening.

And she sent me away.

Instead of doing something to stop the Spectres or letting me die in there with her, she saved my life. She even took the time to say goodbye, and now there’s nothing I can do except watch her die as a Demon takes over her body.

...

“No!”

The word rips out of my throat as Ping Ping’s dark form pulses and shrinks, and I run over to look her in her still-recognizable eyes. “Stop this!” Grabbing her rippling head in both hands as thousands of bugs crawl beneath my skin, I scream, “You can’t have her!”

But still it continues, the world warping as the Spectres take form, and I watch as Ping Ping fades away and the Demon takes control, but I will not allow this. This cannot be. Some lines cannot be crossed, and I will die before I let it happen.

This is not how this ends.

The world goes dark.

Coldness seeps in.

And instinct takes over.

There are no questions, no doubts, no confusion or hesitation.

Only one goal, and a mind to accomplish it.

Mother in Heaven, I pray that it is enough.

Chapter Meme