“While we only bear goodwill towards Cultivator Mopul’rii’sfun’ge, we do not believe that he will react kindly towards a silicate consciousness,” Ix said.

“It’s fine, I’ll go,” Hudson replied.

Hudson reached a hand through the window into the foreign cultivator’s mindscape and touched the ice and melted water.

It was surprisingly warm to the touch. The ice didn’t feel cold like ice should feel; instead it felt energetic, almost alive, and buzzed with potential waiting to be released.

Without thinking deeply about what he was doing, Hudson clambered over the window and into the tunnel through the ice. He crawled through on his hands and knees, melted water splashing his clothes.

There was a faint sound at the edge of his awareness. He didn’t notice it at first, but as it grew louder he realized it must have begun as soon as he entered Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s mindscape.

It was the sound of music. A haunting and alien music, deep bass notes mixed with the piercing melody of a wind instrument. The strange music used tones not standard for the musical scales of Earth, but it was definitely music.

Hudson continued crawling, and the faint music grew in volume. The tunnel was long – Mopul’rii’sfun’ge’s mindscape was large, much larger than Hudson’s. After a good amount of time, he finally exited the tunnel. The music stopped.

A Lurill’shan man floated in the center of a small pond. He held a long, flute-like instrument in his hands, and below the crystal-clear water, Hudson could see his legs wrapped around another bulky object.

The pond was small, and encased on all sides by the ice, except where Hudson had melted a small hole through.

“Well, you are not what I expected,” the man said, lowering the flute from his lips. “Nor what I had hoped.”

“Are you… Mopul’rii’sfun’ge?” Hudson asked awkwardly.

The Lurill’shan’s gills flickered in a gesture of amusement. “I suppose the question is valid, considering the circumstances. Yes, I am. Or I was, I suppose. Who else would I be?”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t taken over by any silicates.”

“Oh no,” he said. “None of that in here. There might still be some stuck in the remnants of my cultivation, though. No guarantees there.”

“You mean the ice wall?” Hudson clarified.

“Yes, of course,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge replied with a degree of irritation. “Now that my own introductions are in order, would the guest who so rudely interrupted my performance kindly introduce himself? And if it’s not too much trouble, state his intentions?”

Hudson was momentarily taken aback. This “rescue” was not going as he thought it would.

“Well, um, my name is Hudson Appleseed. I’m a cultivator from a planet called Earth, currently visiting Lurill’shan. Well, more like taking refuge until we can find a way home. We were asked by a Lurill’shan cultivator named Tor’le’su to help you if we could, to free you from,” Hudson gestured at the ice, “this.”

“Tor’le…’su, you say?” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge said with a sigh. The wrinkles on his face and hands appeared to grow more prominent. “Time proceeds without me, as it should… But who is this ‘we’ who have come to save the mighty core cultivator of the reef?”

“Me, and uh, my friends,” Hudson said.

“Do you friends include the silicate consciousnesses malingering outside the edge of my awareness?”

Hudson hesitated slightly before nodding. “Yes. That would be Ix.”

“A silicate with a name? Wonders never cease. But you are Followers of the Disciples then?”

“No,” Hudson shook his head firmly. “Not if I can help it; although to be honest, it’s a bit complicated.”

“Hmmm…” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge stared at Hudson sharply. “It sounds like you have a tale to tell. Well then, get on with it.”

“Shouldn’t we… get you out of this prison?” Hudson asked.

“You may have had good intentions, and you may even speak the truth, as you know it… but no,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge said. His expression grew fierce and commanding, and Hudson felt a pressure on his skin.

“You will tell your story and how you came to be here, and I will judge the consequences of your actions, for good or ill.”

……

Hudson tried to gloss over the high points of the last few months, but after repeated, detailed questions, he settled into a deeper cadence of relaying the nitty gritty of all of his experiences the past few months. Mopul’rii’sfun’ge was not only interested in what had happened to Hudson, the other members of the trial, and of the events on Lurill’shan, but he was also very interested in why Hudson had made the decisions he had.

After a long period, Hudson finally finished telling his story and he lapsed into silence. There were no further questions from Mopul’rii’sfun’ge. Instead, the musician picked up his flute and began to play a picaresque melody. The wooden, bellows-like instrument between his feet added sibilant bass notes, bubbling up from the water beneath.

The music was both alien and yet somehow familiar. Hudson had never heard it before, and yet he felt like he had heard it every day of his life. He sat and listened intently.

Stolen story; please report.

When Mopul’rii’sfun’ge played the final few notes, Hudson wished he had not stopped.

“Thank you for your story,” he said, “and I hope you appreciated my improvisation.”

“I’ve never heard anything like it, and yet…” Hudson paused. “I could swear I’ve heard it before. It’s very strange. Thank you. I liked it very much.”

Mopul’rii’sfun’ge bowed slightly, his gills rippling.

“Do you know what path I cultivate?” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge asked Hudson.

“Um, qi I believe?” Hudson replied. “I’m still learning the honorific suffixes, but I do not believe you are a body cultivator–I mean a cultivator of the self. No offense intended.”

Mopul’rii’sfun’ge laughed, deep chuckles from both of his sets of lungs.

“I did not ask you what cultivation techniques I use, or what heavenly energies support my cultivation of the Way,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge eventually said. “But I can forgive your ignorance, especially as it verifies much of your otherwise difficult-to-believe tale. You are a tadpole, wet behind the gills, despite your fast advances in strength and power.

“I cultivate music, young Hudson’le,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge said gently. “I follow the path of melodies, the Way of harmonies. I am not a warrior, never was and never will be.

“When the abominations invaded, of course I fought them. Who would not defend their home? But my path is ill-suited to war, and I eventually fell in battle. Not before seeing many of my students, friends, and family fall before me…

“Surrounded by mind-worms seeking the center of my consciousness, I did the only thing I could… I severed my cultivation, the core of qi at my center, and froze it to protect the core of my being – my mind, my memories, and my music.

“What will happen, do you think, should I return to the reef, fully conscious?” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge asked Hudson.

“Tor’le’su will be happy to see you,” Hudson replied.

“True. She is my great-granddaughter, by the way,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge said. “Many of my family would be happy to see me, and I, them.”

“But that’s not all…” Hudson extemporized.

“No, it’s unfortunately not,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge said. “My return would possibly upset the internal politics of the reef. Many would want me to return to my place on the council. And while I would refuse, that is still not the problem…

“The problem is the Disciples. They want this reef, and they want it badly. From what you say, their strategy has been to leverage a ‘cure’ for me as part of their negotiation. There are likely other plays in motion, but if you ‘set me free’ yourself, you take that away.”

“How is that bad?” Hudson asked. “Doesn’t it lower their negotiating position?”

“It may,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge allowed, “viewed through one eye. But I hazard – and I have been at this game of politics much longer than you have been alive, young tadpole – that in effect my return to the reef will only serve to escalate the tensions between us and the Disciples.

“If they have lost one means to get what they want, they will begin to pursue another… more aggressive means.”

Hudson considered what this meant, for the Lurill’shans as well as for him.

“Well, I just figured we could try to help. I didn’t know it would cause problems for you or for the reef.”

Mopul’rii’sfun’ge shook his head lightly. “It is strange, isn’t it? When good intentions can lead to poor outcomes. Why does the world work this way? I’ve often wondered if there is some flaw in the Way of Heaven, or if this is simply the dissonance of a greater melody, yet to resolve.

“I will ask you one more question, Hudson’le. I have told you my path… What is yours?”

Hudson couldn’t answer immediately. What was his path?

“I ask, not just for prurient curiosity, but because it is relevant to the situation at hand. Is your path one where you do what you believe is right, consequences be damned? Is it one where you bear responsibility for those around you, using your strength and cunning to better your friends and destroy your enemies?

“Or is it something different altogether? Is it power for power’s sake, burn all and the world be damned? Or at the other extreme…perhaps seeking harmony in all things?”

“I don’t know,” Hudson finally said. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead. Perhaps I should.”

“Yes… perhaps you should indeed.”

Hudson thought for a few more moments, before speaking again, with some hesitation.

“I know I want enough strength – personal strength – to make my own decisions. To tell the Disciples, or S.E.C.T., or anyone else, to go away.”

“Admirable, if simplistic and incredibly difficult. And an ill-defined goal. It is a destination, not a description of the road you wish to travel,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge said plainly but without rancor or condemnation.

“How will you get there? On the shoulders of your allies, or the bodies of your enemies?”

“Both?” Hudson replied.

Mopul’rii’sfun’ge laughed deeply. “Well said. Not the most efficient, or precise, but least you are honest with yourself, and with me.

“This old fish will stop pestering you, and leave you with one piece of advice and a final ask in return.”

“Rather than strive towards an end goal that you may one day meet, or not, I suggest you build a foundation, cultivating now the attitudes, beliefs, and circumstances that you strive for in the future. Make your future path of cultivation real today, rather than waiting for it to come.”

Hudson nodded, not at all offended by the older cultivator’s questions or feedback. Instead, he felt heartened and encouraged.

“And the request… Tell only Tor’le’su about my status, and what you have done to free me. In exchange… I will not share your secrets with the reef or with the Disciples, either. Now that you have opened the door, I can exit my cage at any time… but I fear now is not yet the time to do so.”

Hudson nodded. “We can agree to that. Not a problem.”

“Now please leave,” Mopul’rii’sfun’ge said, picking up his flute.

A haunting, yet hopeful, melody played in his ears as Hudson crawled back through the tunnel to his own mindscape.

……

Hudson looked on as Tor’le’us grasped her great-grandfather’s hands in her own. He had not said a word when he had returned to the real world, and instead had simply gestured that she grasp the old musicians hands.

When she opened her eyes, she stared at Hudson and Cor with immense gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t know what for,” Hudson replied. “We were never here.”

Tor’le’su nodded. “I will escort you back to your chambers. If you have need of anything, please let me know.”

“So… I was looking into some of the weapons y’all use around here…” Cor piped up, as Tor’le’su guided them back through the tunnels of the reef.