The fire crackled merrily between them as Right-Eye played his flute. The wooden flute gave off thready, echoing notes that floated playfully across the breeze. Even the horses stopped grazing, seeming content to listen to his music.

When he'd pulled the flute from his pack, Pia had been shocked. The flute had seemed dainty and fragile in his large, callous-roughened hands. Yet, he played with the skill of a seasoned musician. It was beautiful.

Right-Eye finished his song, sipped some water, then started another. Fluttering notes and a mix of high and low tones reminded her of a chorus of mountain frogs calling to each other. His fingers rose and fell rhythmically, and the song became a slower melody that tugged at Pia's eyelids. She fell asleep, lulled by the comforting lilt of Right-Eye's flute.

She tossed and turned in her sleep, eyes flickering rapidly beneath her lids. Buzhi's eyes watched her closely, and Right-Eye continued to play.

The sense of tension that normally pervaded her dreams was absent. It was the first thing she noticed. All around her, a clinging fog obscured the land before her, yet it held no feeling of foreboding, no figures grasping at her from the depths.

Turning round and round Pia walked forward, hands out before her. Cautiously she put one foot in front of the other. Her head turned side-to-side, listening for any sound, ready to bolt at the first sound or sight of movement. At her feet, a red-brown dirt path appeared, a beacon of hope in this strange dream. She followed that path until it spit her out into a lush meadow filled with flowers. It was so familiar that her heart squeezed with bittersweet nostalgia.

Blue skies met a rugged cliff edge. She gasped as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. How? She thought. Or, why? Why dream of this?

As they had done so many times before, her feet took her to the cliff edge. The sky was a cheerful blue and white fluffy clouds drifted lazily by. Looking to her left, Pia saw phantom images of Conch and Fewl laughing and joking together as their feet dangled over the edge. Conch's crooked half knot bobbed as he moved, and Fewl's cold façade cracked into grand smiles that lit up his face. An intense wave of pain brought her hand to her chest, gripping the fabric of her robes tightly. Where are you? Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

Some days, when she allowed herself to think of them, Pia couldn’t help but wonder if they’d forgotten her already. Her hand fell to her right elbow, rubbing the sigil of three koi, reminding herself to have faith, even as those phantom images faded away, leaving her alone, standing on the edge of the cliff.

The sweet scent of yi enriched flowers curled through the air. Divine Ascent of her dreams smelled as real as she’d remembered.

Was she dreaming? Pia pinched her arm, wincing at the sharp pain that followed. A breeze stirred her hair, blowing long strands past her shoulders, fluttering in the air. If it were a memory, would her hair not be braided? It was so strange.

Turning, she looked around, seeing no Reflection school building, only an endless expanse of meadow and cliff. As her eyes wandered the cliff's edges, she froze at a sight she’d missed on her first scan of the meadow. A man stood gazing up into the sky, hands clasped behind his back.

Her first reaction was to run, muscles bunching in readiness. Go go go, her mind whispered. Yet…the feeling of horror was absent. Perhaps it was the familiar landscape, she thought, as a breeze whispered through the grasses.

Curiosity won and she made her way toward the man, making no attempts at masking her approach. The man made no indication he'd heard her. His long black hair was tied away from his face with a simple white ribbon, and both fluttered in the breeze. The simple black robes he wore were no different than any other commoner might wear. The hem swayed over his feet, occasionally snatched by the wind to flutter over the cliff’s edge.

At an arm’s length away, she peeked at his face. Enjoying the warmth of the sun, his eyes were closed, face tilted toward the light, basking in its glow. The man’s jaw was strong and broad, balanced by a round chin, and his cheeks were full, tinted red by the breeze. When his eyes slid open, she saw they slanted keenly at her.

"You shouldn't be here," he warned.

Taken aback by his words, she moved back a step.

“Shouldn’t be here in my own dream?” she countered.

How odd a shift her dreams had taken. Her muscles were tight with tension, waiting for the violence and terror to return. It’s inevitable, her mind whispered. These dreams can’t be trusted.

The man chuckled as if she'd said something funny.

"What?" she asked defensively.

"Oh, it's nothing," he said dismissively. "Some things never change."

That struck her as odd. Everything changes, nothing stays the same. And she said as much, even feeling it was futile to argue with a dream.

"Everything changes," she said, frowning. Bending down, she plucked a blade of grass, folding it over her fingers, fascinated that she could feel it so clearly. "This grass will grow back, but it won't be the same as this blade was."

Her fingers loosened and the breeze yanked it from her grasp. It tumbled over itself as it whisked away.

"A different argument altogether," the man said. "The grass will always grow; that never changes."

Pia laughed at the absurdity of her dream. It felt so real, she thought, looking at the man, the meadow, the sky. Her night terrors did too, but like a healed break, she’d become accustomed to their dull, persistence ache. This was a whole new level of strangeness.

Tilting back her head, looking up at that deceptively peaceful sky, she said, "My dream has taken an odd turn." Admitting it felt like breaking an unspoken rule. Addressing the surrealism of the dreamscape.

The man shifted to face her, face thoughtful. “You’re not just sleeping, child,” he said seriously. His hand swept out, sleeve dangling under his slim arm. “Your spirit is here.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. But she was exasperated. Her eyes looked at him shrewdly. Was he just a representation of Master Ruwe cooked up by her mind? The cryptic half-answers felt similar.

"Where is here if not my dream?"

"Let me show you,” he said.

Again, he swept his arm out, two fingers pointed towards the sky. Before her eyes the sun faded into darkness. The void of night was broken by pinpricks of blazing stars. Pia blinked, rubbed her eyes in disbelief. What in the heavens? Yet her eyes had no time to take it in as it changed again. Now the sky was a deep red, broken by sickly yellow streams of miasma that pulsed through the air. She shivered. It was revolting.

"How is that possible?” she whispered.

"This is the Abyss," he said, tucking his arms behind his back again. "It's the space between all realms. What was before what is now."

The meadow, bathed in the eerie light, still smelled of the sweet, floral blend of Divine Ascent. It was real. Or, she thought, perplexed, as real as possible in a dream. Her hand trailed over the flowers; they tickled her palm. The man began to walk away, and Pia followed after him.

The eerie red glow of the sky made everything seem ominous. A surreal reality that only a dream could conjure. The Abyss? She wondered. Why would she dream of the Abyss? Her thoughts spilled from her mouth.

"The Abyss? No mortal can enter the Abyss," she protested. Even for a dream, it was an impossibility.

"Pish," he spat out angrily. "Don't you listen? Your spirit is here. Many living have entered here. Though," he paused to give her a side-long look, "untrained children are not common."

She bristled at that; she was seventeen, after all. Not a child.

His lips quirked up as if sensing her thoughts.

"Calm your heart. Being young is no crime. Walking the Abyss is always complicated, riddled as it is with desperate spirits. You've had a taste of that, I can see."

"You mean my nightmares?" she asked.

"That is one way to put it. You believe you're sleeping, but sleep is a two-way gate. You're leaving your side open. The Abyss can be…" he trailed off and rubbed his chin as if stroking a beard that no longer sat there. "Temperamental."

A shiver wracked her body at the 'temperamental' dreams she'd had. If what he said was true…had it always been spirits plaguing her at night? As quickly as that thought occurred to her, she pushed it away. Impossible.

“I have no ghost speaking or spirit tuning skills. Even if it were possible, this must be only a dream.”

His sharp eyes narrowed at her, almost as if he were annoyed.

“Your ears as closed as your eyes,” he reprimanded. Her cheeks flamed. “Not just anyone can come here by chance. Surely you’ve been training with a Shaman? Or a talented Sage or Seer?”

Pia’s feet came to a stop, perplexed at his questions. The man stopped as well, turning to face her. She avoided meeting his gaze directly. It reminded her too much of Mow, timeless and seeking, as if they knew answers to questions she’d never think of.

“My studies had little to do with the Abyss, and even less on Shamans. All I know about the Abyss is that no living can enter. And Shamans are powerful ghost speakers who prefer to live in isolation.” The irritation she felt slipped into her tone, and it came out ruder and sharper than she’d meant.

"Pish," he spat again, irritated. His hand swept to the side as if casting her words away. "How the caliber of an education has deteriorated. You are saying you have received no training with a shaman?”

Pia grasped the back of her neck, feeling the flush of irritation replace her previous hot shame. What is he talking about? She thought crossly. All the talk of Shamans and the Abyss made no sense.

"No. None. I’m a fresh disciple, traveling to find the heart of my sword.”

The look of disbelief on his face was unmistakable.

"No shaman training?" he asked incredulously.

Mutely, she shook her head, fascinated by his reaction. His cheeks grew red with frustration, and his mouth opened and closed as if trying to find the right words. Finally, he exhaled deeply, visibly trying to calm himself.

"It has been some time since I visited the mortal realm. Perhaps I ought to remedy that," he mused aloud. His tongue tsked loudly as he looked across the meadow. Pia followed his gaze and shivered, seeing figures lumbering on the horizon. Her skin prickled with alarm. Now those were familiar entities of her dreams.

"It's time for you to go."'

"What? No! I didn’t even get a chance to ask who you ar—"

The long sleeves that covered his arms snapped loudly as his hand darted out. Two fingers flicked Pia's forehead, and something that sounded like, "You're still a nuisance," followed her to the waking world.

Stolen novel; please report.

Her eyes slid open groggily. The night wind slid easily across her body, curious and playful. She yawned widely and stretched, enjoying the pull of her sleep stiffened muscles. The toads chirped a merry song, and Buzhi, asleep in the trees, snored a low accompanying drum to their orchestra. Half-lidded eyes looked across the fire. Right-Eye’s sole eye was lit up with the orange glow of the campfire. A loud snorting snore broke through the darkness, silencing the toads. The two shared a slight grin, and Pia curled up once more and fell quickly back asleep. The rest of her night she dreamed of the wind tugging at her hair and a strange man who kept telling her to go away. No nightmares haunted her that night.

Just before dawn, she woke and felt the languid softness that came from a whole night's sleep. What an odd dream, she thought. There'd be no complaints from her about the change of dreams, but the strangeness came with its own perplexing weight. Had it been a dream? Yet, a memory niggled her brain. Hadn’t someone mentioned shamans to her in the past? Her lips pursed as she tried to bring it to mind. It'd been so long since she'd thought about it that the memory felt far away and fuzzy. Had it been on Lunar New Year?

But, Right-Eye rose from his bedroll then, and Pia sighed and sat up. Though her thoughts lingered on her odd dream, her morning tasks didn’t give her time to think too deeply. I’ll just ask Buzhi, she thought.

Yet, her hopes of asking Buzhi about shamans and the Abyss crashed on the hard rocks of reality when Buzhi, despite having the best sleeping arrangement, woke up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on and then dumped into a bucket of water.

Since Pia and Right-Eye woke at first light, they'd gotten to work, leaving Buzhi to sleep in. She'd stacked the logs and got the fire going while Right-Eye cut up leftover pheasant for them to eat. Pia had gone to the stream, giving Tudou a pat as she passed by him, filled their tiny pot for tea, and returned to the fire to brew it. Right-Eye and Pia had enjoyed the leftover pheasant with tea as the sun rose higher in the sky, casting their small meadow in light.

By the time Buzhi emerged from his cocoon as an unhappy butterfly, the tea had long since been finished. When he stumbled to the fire, tried to pour tea for himself but found it empty, his lips flattened worse than his hair, and he stormed off to the stream, muttering under his breath.

Pia and Right-Eye shared a look. Eyebrows raised Right-Eye whispered, "Princess." The way his accent broke up the word gave it more emphasis and Pia had to bite her lip to hold in a laugh. Her eyes turned to the fire, hiding her mirth as Buzhi stomped back to them, angrier now that his sleeve had gotten soaked.

"Have to do everything myself," he grumped, slapping the pot into the embers. Water poured from the lip of the lid, hissing and spitting into the fire. “No one is of any use around here!”

Right-Eye grunted at that, though he wisely kept his comments to himself. Deciding it was best to give Buzhi and his mood space, Pia grabbed their brushes and walked away to groom the horses. Moments later, Right-Eye joined her, saying, "Noisy."

Now far enough away from Buzhi, Pia allowed her chuckles to fall free. After her restful sleep, she felt better and more herself. The sun was warm and her muscles felt loose and free.

Grooming Tudou in the quiet, serene meadow with the easy-going Right-Eye was relaxing. Especially when Right-Eye began singing a ballad to Shunzren. Though the words were unfamiliar to her, the song captivated her. The music stirred her feelings. It felt like greeting an old friend yet feeling the heartstring tug of nostalgia for days of the past. Even the horses seemed to be listening, their heads raised from eating and ears twitching as he sang.

Knowing Buzhi's mood, Pia went ahead and groomed Shuai, then tacked him up after she finished with Tudou. When Right-Eye's song ended, she went over to him. Shunzren greeted her with a green coated lip, smearing his slime across her opened palm as he nuzzled her hand. She scratched his nose as he sighed to find no food offered.

"That was lovely," she said to Right-Eye. "What did it mean?"

"Long road home," he told her, grinning sheepishly at his poor explanation.

Except, she understood. The song felt that way. A lilt that spoke of anticipation yet a slowness that spoke of hardship.

"Are you riding home to Baisha?" she asked him. She was curious about why he was traveling with them. It didn’t make sense to her unless his journey was on their route. She’d be sad when the man parted from them. She didn’t know him well but already enjoyed his presence.

The horses, broken from their listening trance, returned to graze, trying to eat as much as they could before their long ride ahead.

On her words, Right-Eye's face pinched with sadness or maybe regret. Oh no, she thought. Guilt hit her as she realized her words might’ve hit on a sensitive topic. She remembered Buzhi’s words of his past. There was a high chance that Right-Eye had nowhere to go home to in Baisha.

"No," he said, and that was all he said. It further strengthened her guilt, and an awkward silence fell between them. It was the first time she’d felt uncomfortable around the man, and she searched her brain for a way to remedy the moment. Clearing her throat, Pia tried another avenue.

"Have you played the flute long? I hadn't expected you to be so good."

Right-Eye nodded, saying. "Long time." A pause to think, then, "Baisha. Music life," he added.

That one was harder to understand.

"Music is life?" she asked, and her eyes flicked over his rugged build. He was tall and stout, with broad muscles in his arms and shoulders, and had sword-roughened hands. Even his strange hairstyle, shaved on the sides and long on top, gave off a menacing appearance. No part of him spoke to being a musician.

"Like yi," he explained. "Music same."

Her eyes widened in surprise, understanding him. Though it wasn’t what she’d expected.

"You use music as we use yi?" she asked, wondering why that hadn't ever come up in her studies.

"Yes!" he said, happy she understood. "Music life."

Pia wilted slightly, failing to understand exactly what he meant.

"Wait, see." He bent down and plucked a handful of grass eerily reminiscent of her strange dream the night before. Holding it up, he sang a few notes, and Pia watched in amazement as the leaves grew long and wild in his palm.

When they finished growing, he sang two more lines, and the grass weaved into a rabbit shape. The long ends of the grass hung low over the body, giving the rabbit comically large ears.

He held it out to her, and when she took it, she gasped. It was full of earth yi, practically vibrating in her palm. How had he done that? She’d felt no stirrings of yi around him. Though, her mind went back to the feelings of those sung words and her brain whirred. Was he able to use emotion to gather yi?

"Incredible," she murmured, holding it up before her eyes.

"Music life," he repeated.

"I understand," Pia said, though she didn't entirely. How did music do that? Could she? No, it'd be unlikely. Singing was no talent of hers. She could barely whistle.

As she turned it over and over in her hands, her mind went to the night before, listening to his flute by the fire, and a suspicion occurred to her.

“Can your music influence the mind?” she asked, looking up at him, meeting his stare.

His eye twinkled as he grinned. “Yes,” he said, and there was a hint of mischief in his voice that made him seem younger.

Her suspicions grew, yet even thinking them made her feel like she was putting too much emphasis on herself.

"Right-Eye, last night, did you play the flute…" she paused, feeling very silly about the question she wanted to ask. Yet, the first night she'd slept peacefully in weeks was last night. An odd coincidence? Wetting her lips, she gathered her courage and pressed on. "Did you play the flute for me to sleep?"

"Yes," he said decisively. A worried look crossed his face. Haltingly, he tried to explain. "Bad music follow you. I come play." It was one of the longest sentences he’d said to her.

Stunned, Pia tried to process that. Was he saying—?

"Right-Eye, are you saying you came with us just to play the flute for me?"

Even saying it made her cheeks heat up at the suggestion. It couldn't be that.

"Yes." He nodded firmly to emphasize his statement.

Rubbing her forehead, Pia tried to make sense of that.

"But you don’t even know me," she said. “Why would you do that?”

"Know enough," he said confidently. This time, his gaze shifted towards Buzhi, his lips turning down.

Pia looked too, seeing Buzhi pouring water over the remains of their fire, kicking over the logs to put it out. As she stuffed the grass rabbit into her robes, her eyes slid back to Right-Eye, wondering what gave him that expression. From the look he gave Buzhi, she sensed a bit of distrust in him. What would he distrust? Was he biased because Buzhi was a demon? Yet, Buzhi had spoken approvingly of Right-Eye; wouldn't that sentiment be returned?

Her thoughts flipped and turned over and over until Buzhi finally made his way to them. He'd fixed his hair, but his mood was still cranky, if the "what're you two staring at" comment as he passed by them to get to Shuai was anything to indicate.

They mounted their horses and set off. Right-Eye and Pia rode behind Buzhi, content to let him stew in his bad mood. They continued southwest, and the weather held, making traveling much easier.

Right-Eye occasionally sang or played his flute as they rode. To her delight, he’d occasionally put on little shows. Singing a song, he’d have the tree leaves fly around them, almost dancing on the wind in sync with his rhythm. Or, the spring buds would open, bursting their proud flowers forth, showering them in bright colors as they passed. Most of the time, his music just swelled around them, coating their ears with pleasing sounds. It made traveling much more enjoyable.

Plus, it amused Pia that every time Right-Eye would start, Buzhi would look back at the man with a scowl. The silliness of the situation kept her mind from dwelling too heavily on her dream. A few stray thoughts broke through, pondering what a shaman was and who the strange man had been. Quite a lot of: I was only dreaming. Was I dreaming? Plagued her. One moment, she was sure it'd all been a dream. Then, doubt crept in, remembering how the man had changed the skies with a confidence. It’d been so real. How could she dream of something she'd never thought of?

The trio came upon the Guiyan sea much sooner than she expected. By then, Buzhi's mood had mellowed halfway to reasonable.

"The Guiyan splits Guihai almost in half, like lungs. We're on the eastern side of the tip," Buzhi explained. His hand listlessly gestured up to the right. "We'll head north, following the sea, then head southwest again."

"Didn't you want to avoid the Guiyan?" she asked, recalling his previous words.

"I did, but it's the shortest path toward Yufeng."

Right-Eye nudged Shunzren to the front, blocking them from going forward. His face was apprehensive as he looked from Buzhi to Pia and back to Buzhi.

"Not good," he said. He made a strange gesture, his palm going to his left shoulder and then straight out in front of him. Tapping his ear, he said again, "Bad sound."

That seemed to irritate Buzhi, his back going steel-bar straight. Glass could've been cut on the taut lines of his face. Pia watched the change with shock. What was his deal?

"Going around is backtracking several hundred li the way we came," Buzhi said, his voice cold and clipped as if he were refraining from adding several choice words.

"Go around," Right-Eye protested one last time, and his tone was distressed.

Pia looked from man to man, confused about what was really being said. Under Right-Eye's stare, Buzhi seemed to deflate, his face switching from angry to miserable to resigned.

"We're going this way. People are waiting on us in Yufeng," he stated firmly. "You can do what you want." He steered Shuai around Right-Eye and rode forward, heading toward the beach of Guiyan.

Right-Eye watched him go, frustration evident in every line of his body. His hands clenched and unclenched his reins. The ever-easy-going Shunzren even tossed his head and jigged a few steps to the side, feeling his rider's frustrations.

Torn, Pia hesitated. Something was clearly off. She felt it in her guts. Buzhi's persistent lousy mood wasn't like him, nor was the snapping, defeated passivity. Right-Eye, though she’d known him for much less time, seemed genuinely upset about traveling near the sea. Or was it the path, more than the sea? Or was it something else? Silent communication had passed between the two that she had no key to decipher.

Feeling guilty, Pia rode past Right-Eye, avoiding eye contact as she went. Despite the man's kindness, she felt a solid loyalty to Buzhi. Tudou let out a hefty sigh as their short break ended. After a few steps, Shunzren plodded after her. No music or song followed this time.

The path they were on split soon, the main body continuing straight. They took the narrow trail spiraling downward, that turned to loose sandy dirt. The sound of the sea grew loud. It thrummed through the air, massive crashing rumbles that rang in her ears. Salt was heavy in the wind, giving it a gritty bite that burned her cheeks.

The sea itself…was daunting. It poured across the horizon in each direction. The sky seemed to melt into it, sucked in by the mesmerizing force of the water. The sand was a pale yellow, almost white, ghostly next to the deep darkness of the sea.

Tudou, brave-hearted and calm, gave the sea a wary eye but put no hoof out of line. Waves crashed against the sand, spilling a steady stream upward, then pulling it back like a hungry maw, grasping sand and shells back into the water. It was a snarling, unrelenting creature, full of anger and power. Enthralled, her eyes remained on it, and Tudou dutifully followed after Shuai as she was too distracted to steer.

Buzhi had them hugging the far side of the beachfront, close to the embankment where grass and rocks still struggled to survive. They travelled for a long while before he called a halt. Driftwood lay in a pile, stripped of all bark and life, looking more like the white carcass of some strange creature than husks of trees. Behind them was an angled hill, allowing access to the land above. It was a good spot to rest.

When she dismounted, Pia was startled by the heat of the sand. It wasn't hot, but it quickly warmed her feet and legs. Sand stuck to everything, so she carefully removed her saddle and pad, placing them on the driftwood well out of reach of the ground. After she groomed Tudou, he trotted up the hill for grass and water. Moments later, Shuai and Shunzren followed suit.

While Buzhi and Pia gathered and cut wood for the fire, Right-Eye went up the hill, searching for food and water for them.

"Can't we scrounge the sea for food?" Pia asked Buzhi as she dug out a hole in the sand. Once it was deep enough, she arranged the wood in a box frame. She had been curious why they didn't fish in the sea. If her studies were accurate, crabs, mussels, and clams should be plentiful. Even fish could be found with patience.

"Not unless we have to. The Guiyan sea can be wickedly fickle."

"How can a sea be fickle?" she asked. He'd said something similar before.

"Hmm," he said, sitting in the sand, leaning back against the sand-smoothed wood behind him. He was content to leave the work to her now. "The best way to put it would be that a lot of blood has spilled on this beach. It's like the sea absorbed all the hate and anger the dying left behind."

That was disturbing to think about. Pia lit the fire, feeding it bits of bark until the thick limbs fully caught. The sun setting over the sea turned the sky a deep purple red. When Right-Eye returned with three rabbits and a robe’s worth of mushrooms and onions, it had shifted to near-total darkness. In the absence of the sun, the thundering of the sea seemed magnified.

Right-Eye didn't say much, still very much displeased about them traveling this way, but after they'd eaten, he pulled out his flute and played. A haunting melody that Pia didn't understand but squeezed her heart. It was slow and dramatic and played beautifully. Sleep slid between one thought and another, and she drifted into her dreamscape, for once, cautiously curious rather than full of dread.