10. The Divine Fates

I should have been angry that whoever had stolen my providence had not left any for me, but I could not find it in myself. I had forgiven those who had tortured and murdered me, why should I not forgive this latest wrong? Still, I was curious as to what had happened, so with a will, I shot off through the cosmos, following the brightly glowing providence.

I entered a universe of cultivation. A large planet, with many, many cultivators of the golden, diamond, and platinum paths. I followed the lake as it wove past world after world. Some of the worlds reached out, trying to drink from the massive reservoir as it passed, and some few managed to do so, but in doing so they created yet another debt. If I had still been in control, I might have been able to forgive it for them, but as a naked soul I could not.

Finally, I reached the world of the thieves. From the sky, I could see the ritual that had been enacted. It took a thousand years, but slowly I understood. And it also came to me in a flash of inspiration all at once. After all, I was still dead, and what is time to the dead?

They had constructed a city to form a vast array. Throughout the city were cultivators of the bronze and silver paths sitting at various nodes, channeling power into the array, which gathered their power in the center of the city.

In the epicenter were cultivators of the golden path, and in the very center were five children. Five souls which I had wronged. At first I thought that they were human sacrifices and I was outraged, but as I understood what was happening, I did not know how to feel. For they were victims, but not in the way I had thought.

They were my victims. Each of them I had slain or worse in one of my previous incarnations. They had received a burst of providence during my tribulations, and when the stream had restarted they had been ensconced in this ritual to drain as much as possible from me. But the array was somehow reinforcing their connection to my stolen providence. They drank and drank and drank, but still the thread did not break.

Instead, the liquid fortune was drained from them and stored in crystals, which shone brightly with good fortune. More was siphoned off from the children into the array, and from the array into the cultivators spread throughout the city.

I understood what they were doing. They were increasing their luck, their fortunes, their providence, by stealing from me. I should have been angry, but I was not. However, as I watched, the threads from the reservoir, my lingering debts, began to multiply and spread, growing thicker and thicker as they attached to each and every one of the thieves.

Heaven’s judgment. They could have their providence, for now. But sooner or later it would be taken from them.

I went down into the epicenter with the intention to warn them of the consequences of their actions, but uncertain whether I could even interact with them due to my present incorporeal nature. I needn’t have worried. As soon as I entered the building where the children were being used as conduits, one of the ritualists looked up.

“ The guardian spirit is here!” he called. “Prepare the wards! The battle begins!”

A thousand new arrays were activated, and I was surprised to find energies attaching themselves to my soul, giving it form.

“ What do you think you are doing?” I asked, sounding more menacing than I intended.

“ We are sorry, grand elder,” one of the ritualists said. “It must have taken you centuries to build up this massive reservoir of good fortune. But it belongs to us now. If you wish to reclaim it, you must do battle with us. Even if you are of the divine path, we will fight you for this.”

“ You fools,” I said. “You truly do not understand! You think you can steal providence from me? I was giving it away, but you have taken more than was offered. The heavens will demand repayment for your actions today, and it will not be me who collects. I pity your soul, for you shall never pass the final tribulation.”

The cultivators began to launch attacks at my form, hovering above the ritual. They could not harm me, and succeeded only in breaking the arrays which had given my soul form for a time.

I retreated. I had given them my warning, and that was as much as I could do. Instead, I sat on the cusp of their world, waiting on the bridge between life or death, and I watched the events unfold.

For a time, it truly appeared that they had benefited from their crime against me. Every cultivator who had taken part in the fate-stealing ritual made great strides in their cultivation. The bronze cultivators broke through to silver and gold in droves. The silvers broke through to gold, and then to diamond. The gold cultivators reached diamond, platinum, and mythril.

But no further.

They tried the fate-stealing ritual again, many times. But they could not find a reservoir like mine. Their cultivators spread out through their universe, looking for fated children like the five they had used as siphons, but they could never find more than one or two linked to the same star. Their method of changing their fates would not work twice.

One by one, the thousands of ritualists began to die. I met them on the bridge between life and death, and I explained to them the price of their crimes.

“ For all eternity, you will pay back the debt which you have taken from me,” I informed them. “Your providence will go to people you have never known. Your fate will be forever altered by your greed in this lifetime. It is worse than if you had committed a thousand murders, a thousand rapes, a thousand child sacrifices. You will forever be born the peasant, the serf, the slave. And whatever happiness you do find in your life will be snatched away from you. For all eternity.”

Some of the recently deceased ritualists screamed defiance at me. Others begged forgiveness. Some attempted violence. It was all the same to me. They could not hurt me, not in the land of the dead, and they did not have the mastery of their souls to wander those lands freely as I could. They were swept away, deeper into the land of remembrance, where they would make their peace with this life before crossing the river and losing their memories.

I do not know how the living noticed my lingering presence. Three hundred years after their ritual – a blink of the eye and an epoch to my perception – the first living mortal came to confront me. They had built a new city, formed a new ritual. This one allowed them to project their soul to the bridge between the living and the dead.

They sent a warrior. Proud he was, with a curved sword in one hand and in the other a swordbreaker.

“ I am [shsruehserh], and I challenge you, spirit!” he declared.

“ Why?” I asked.

“ You have obscured the heavens from us! You block our cultivation, our elevation to divinity! You are he whom we took the fate stones from three hundred years ago. You could not stop us then, and you shall not take back that which is now ours. I shall defeat you and clear the path for the others to ascend.”

I laughed. “Child, the heavens themselves are the ones who will extract payment for the crime that you committed with that demonic ritual. I have not taken any action against your people at all. I am simply lingering nearby to watch the show.”

“ Liar! I shall defeat you and unseal the heavens! Prepare yourself, spirit!”

He launched himself at me, but the moment he took one step onto the bridge all of his power left him. His sword, his mastery, the energy he had gathered in preparation for the conflict, his understanding of his dao and his path, all of it was meaningless in the land of the dead. The connections which the others had placed upon his soul snapped. And after he took one step onto the bridge, he knew it.

“ How?” he asked. “How did you do this?”

“ I haven’t done anything,” I told him simply. And the winds of the afterlife swept him away.

They came at me, again and again. One by one at first, and then in twos and threes as they build more arrays to tether their souls.

“ If you take one step onto that bridge, you will die,” I would warn them. And if they were foolish enough to ignore me, then they would.

Others believed me, and they launched their attacks from the other side. The energies passed over and through and around me without harming me, the bridge, or the land of the dead. They attacked in ever more vigor and desperation as their efforts proved fruitless. Finally, they would either admit defeat and return to the world of the living, for a while, or they would make the mistake of stepping onto the bridge and leaving their lives behind.

To my surprise, these encounters benefited me. Each of the warriors were cultivators of great renown and power, many of them of the diamond or platinum path. As they revealed their attacks to me, I learned. I understood . I soaked up the meaning behind their techniques, the methods that they had trained in their entire lives. Their heritage, their mastery. I was their student, and they were my teachers.

It was ironic, but I learned more during that time about cultivation than I had in any of my previous reincarnations. No karmic links were formed, because although I was learning from them, they intended me harm, and their ill intent prevented them from benefiting from my gratitude for their teachings.

I was surprised again when someone with no links to the stolen reservoir of fate arrived to challenge me. He was an old man from another world. He was of the mythril path, and when he arrived he studied me for a moment, stroking his beard.

“ The Divine Fate Sect has offered me three of their subsidiary worlds if I remove you from their paths,” he informed me. “Tell me, great elder, why do you haunt them?”

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“ Do you know of their fate stealing ritual?” I inquired.

“ Fate stealing?” he asked. “I know that they have several powerful artifacts which alter the course of one’s life, giving good fortune and providence, and shielding against bad karma.”

I snorted. “Is that what they have told you? All of their elders and most of their juniors were involved in a ritual three hundred and fifty years ago in which they gathered five children to form a link to a soul cultivator who was experiencing the tribulation of reaching the ninth step of soul cultivation. They intentionally stole his reservoir of providence to use for themselves. I am here to observe the consequences for my own curiosity. I bear them no malice or ill will.”

“ Is that so?” the mythril path cultivator said, rubbing his chin. “Are you the soul cultivator who was robbed?”

“ I am,” I admitted. “But in a way, I have greatly benefited from their actions. They have severed all of my karmic ties. When I reenter the samsara, I shall be as though I were a brand new soul living life for the first time, unbound by the actions of my past life, yet retaining the wisdom and knowledge I have accumulated through all of my reincarnations.”

“ Oh? Now that is interesting!” the old cultivator admitted. “While I have sought to avoid any overly evil acts in my life, I have not truly planned for my future lives. I have heard of soul cultivation, but the general consensus is that it takes far too many lives in order to pass the final tribulation. I have never met a cultivator who has truly succeeded in severing their accumulated karmic ties. The risk of the final tribulation is considered too high, many give it up in their third or fourth lives.”

I shrugged. “I got lucky. I do not know if it was providence which provided me the opportunity or not, but my actions in one life changed the fate of a world for the better. It was that providence which was stolen from me, but not before I passed the tribulation. I shall not be able to control the circumstances of my birth, but I shall be able to awaken my soul in every reincarnation I endure, and I will likely be able to influence the choices of my body even during early childhood. Hopefully I shall be able to avoid forming too many negative karmic ties, and I do not think it will take me many incarnations to build up enough providence to find a body with high potential for cultivation. When that happens, I believe it shall be quite easy for me to reach the mythril path, or even higher.”

“ Yes, yes I see,” the old cultivator agreed. “Tell me. The truth is, part of the reason I have avoided cultivating my soul is that the methods are not well known in this part of the cosmos. I cannot help but see this as a fortuitous encounter. Would you be willing to impart your teachings unto this poor student?”

I considered for a moment, then shrugged. “I do not wish to form karmic ties at this point in my existence. However, a neutral trade of information would be acceptable. If you are willing to share the secrets of your cultivation with me, I would be happy to teach you how to cultivate your soul.”

We spoke for a few moments, and we spoke for a thousand years. I imparted to him my method of soul cultivation that I had learned during my life as Elisia, and in exchange he taught me several of the heritages which he had access to. In fact, I received far, far more information than I gave, and before long he began to grow suspicious.

“ I understand that the knowledge you have imparted is dear, but surely I have settled the debt by now?” he inquired.

“ Go cultivate your soul until you have reached the third step, and then you will be able to see for yourself. The heavens have determined that you owe me a karmic debt, not I. If I were still undergoing tribulation I could forgive that debt, but that window has passed. In this life or the next, you must repay the gift I have given you.”

“ Very well. I shall return in twenty years.”

His spirit washed away to the sound of my uproarious laughter.

The Fatestealer Sect continued to send their challengers, which served to amuse me, but they offered few new insights. Other unrelated cultivators had noticed me and began to come to the bridge of life and death to speak, and also to exchange information. I had accumulated a vast understanding of a myriad of daos, techniques, and paths, after all. And I was more than happy to exchange what I knew for new secrets and insights which I had not encountered yet.

One hundred and fifty years later, the mythril path elder returned, and he looked ashamed. “I am sorry for holding back during our earlier exchange. I have come to settle the debt I owe you for the lessons you have given me. I will give you everything I know, all of the secrets of my clan and my sect and my masters, if you would teach me how to reach the final step and endure the tribulation.”

I considered the offer, then again shrugged. “Very well.”

And so I listened as he settled the rest of his debt for the secrets of the Cult of Reincarnation, and once that debt was clear, I began to teach him the lessons of the other soul cultivator I had met in the land of the dead, and of the insights I had developed myself. In exchange, he gave me the methods he had used to reach the mythril path, and his insights into divinity that he and his peers had glimpsed. In the end, there was still a debt between us, in which I was the creditor, but I decided that I would not mind being linked to this man.

When he was exhausted for knowledge, he reluctantly looked at the karmic link between us and said “I will repay you, eventually. Even if it takes until I achieve my tribulation.”

I shrugged. “In this life or the next, it makes no difference to me.”

And so he returned to his world, and that was the last time I saw him during his lifetime.

~~~~~~~~~

During this time, the Fatestealers had not been inactive. They had noticed the strands of karmic debt which linked the surviving ritualists and the artifacts which retained the remaining providence which had been stolen from me. To my curiosity, they developed a method of attempting to deal with it. They developed yet another array to reach out into the cosmos and snatch the errant souls on their way to rebirth.

At first they placed these souls into artifacts, weapons and amulets and other regalia, and they siphoned off the providence from their remaining reservoir until the link was severed. They made some several dozen of these items, sapient weapons filled with providence, before realizing that all they were doing was draining their remaining providence.

The item did not provide them with any great insights. When used in battle, it would invariably change hands dozens of times until it arrived in one which the item-soul found suitable, and that was seldom someone related to the Fatestealers. Other times, the weapon would simply break soon after being created, releasing the captive soul back into samsara, except with a windfall of providence for their next life.

When that did not work, they tried placing the souls they captured into children. I laughed and laughed as they siphoned the providence away into the very souls which I had intended it to go to in the first place! Furthermore, these children were considered ‘blessed’ as they could draw from the fate-changing artifacts seemingly without any ill effects. Many of them quickly proved to be geniuses of the highest order, taking to cultivation and having few roadblocks in their path to power.

Finally, the reservoir that had been stolen from me was emptied. And then it was as I had been expecting. Those who had drank from that poisoned chalice began to have their surplus providence siphoned back through the objects. Many of the original ritualists had died at this point, and so to the observers it appeared that the objects were refilling themselves from the heavens.

At first they rejoiced, believing that the objects would provide good fortune indefinitely, but the surviving ritualists noticed that they were being drained as well and finally outlawed the use of the ‘sacred artifacts.’

Finally, even the ritualists who had achieved the mythril path began to reach the end of their lifespans. There was a final burst of challenges.

“ Tell us how to sever our ties to the artifacts,” they would say. “How do we keep our providence from being robbed by those cursed objects?”

“ You’re asking me? You created the damn things. I tried to tell you that it was a bad idea,” I responded with amusement.

“ What did you do to them?” they would persist.

“ Nothing. I have done nothing but watch from the gate to the underworld as your sect rose and fell. It was pathetic. You attempted to change your fate through theft, and in the end you simply delayed the inevitable and made it worse for yourselves. You shall pay for your actions for all eternity, for you cannot sever the links you have created between yourself and the objects. Not even death will absolve you of that crime. For all of your future reincarnations you will have a steady stream of providence stolen from you. Eternal bad luck, as it were.”

“ You are a demon!” they would say, and I would laugh.

“ Demonic cultivators calling me a demon? Oh that is funny.”

Eventually, they shattered the vast crystals which made up the fate-changing artifacts they had created in their ritual and spread them out through the world, but that only created thousands of smaller crystals through which their providence was siphoned.

One by one by one, the ritualists died. The ritual they had used to steal my providence was forgotten. But the objects they had created were not. The empire they had created continued to use soul-catching arrays to gather together the souls of those who were linked to the crystal remnants, and those children were often given shards of the broken artifacts. ‘For luck.’

In a strange way, the souls that I had harmed would benefit more from the fatestealers than they would have had I simply given them a burst of providence. The children gathered by the soul-catching arrays led blessed lives for no other reason than they were linked to objects which nobody understood for reasons that nobody except I knew. They and they alone were able to draw providence from the remnants of the providence gems, which were perpetually refilled by the heavens.

The providence that those gems acquired was truly endless, for everyone who had stolen from the reservoir was obliged to pay back their debts in their next lives with interest. The ritualists had succeeded in creating what they had intended at the cost of their eternal misfortune.

Geniuses among the fated children began to emerge. They were gifted with crystal after crystal as they grew in personal power. Some of them used their power wisely, becoming champions of justice or at least upstanding figures in their society. Others abused their opportunity with their selfish desires and wrong-actions.

The fallen empire of the fate-stealers began to rise again, and it spread out further than ever before. Led by the fated children, the empire warred, traded, explored, and conquered, filling their entire native galaxy. They were neither good, nor particularly wicked. They were an empire which valued power and good fortune. The circumstances of one's birth were considered paramount, and thousands of royal families were established, dynasties of the fated children which tamed their empire.

A thousand years passed in the blink of an eye. Then another thousand, and the empire had spread even further, learning to poke at the membranes of reality and spread to other dimensions. I continued to watch with curiosity, until the five children came to confront me.

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