Those two days flew by. As if the heavens knew they needed a break, the rain stopped and the sun returned. The spring sun brought back the chirping birds and chattering squirrels, lifting the spirits of all the students. Training, planning, and studying filled their waking minutes. Pia didn’t have time to worry about her classmates, and soon the confrontation from earlier in the week slipped her mind entirely. Conch and Pia, with much grumbling and moaning, joined Fewl in the classroom at the ungodliest hour each morning. Pia practiced writing essays, Conch sketched the drawing, and Fewl coached both while they worked.
“No, the next motion is to twist your hand over and pull your fingers to your forehead. You wrote this talisman, Pia, how are you not getting it?” Fewl snapped, frustrated with her mistakes.
“Writing it and transferring it into a rune is much different,” Pia would bite out, trying to stay civil.
She tried twice more to match Fewl’s motions but gave up when she made the same mistake again.
“It’s Conch’s turn,” she said, dropping her hands and picking up her brush once more.
Pia wrote while Fewl scolded Conch on his technique. Her brush scraped across the paper in short, scratchy strokes. Her hands ached from the constant writing. She paused to roll her wrist and stretch her fingers.
The talisman and sketch had been easy. Syncing their movements had been more of a challenge. Despite the three working together often, it had been surprisingly difficult to sync up their movements exactly. Fewl managed to sync with both individually, but when all three tried, Conch or Pia slipped up.
It was the morning of selection day and Pia was taking the last moments before their academic test to prepare. The last two days blurred together, leaving her brain jumbled with information.
Fewl leaned close to her, looking at her work.
“Your brush work is almost legible,” he said with approval. He pointed to a section of her essay and added, “You mentioned the five elements three times here. Don’t forget to include your perspective too.”
Conch leaned close, curious to see her writing. His brows rose in surprise at her almost readable essay.
“Imagine if you’d practiced as hard the last few years. Your handwriting might be prettier than Fewl’s by now.”
“Ha ha,” Pia said, pushing both away. “Just match me in a spar later.”
Both boys grinned and held up their hands.
“I wouldn’t dare,” Conch said, shivering at the thought. Pia might not have a path, but her punches hit with savage ferocity.
The three continued their work as the classroom filled. Today, no one was eager to chat too much. Everyone took their seats to pour over their books one last time. The tests that mattered most to their futures stood before them, a snarling tiger with fangs bared. Only their preparation would save them now. Tension was palpable in the air. Nervous legs bumped into desks, scraping the wood across the floor. Anxious hands tapped brushes against the ink well. Soft muttering filled the air as students read their books aloud, hoping to commit the information to memory.
Before long, Master Ton arrived, bringing a whole new wave of anxiety crashing upon the classroom. With little fanfare, he passed out their papers, and the test began. The classroom was silent, save for the scratching of the brushes, the slide of ink, and the gentle drip-drop of the water timer.
The setting sun cast long shadows over the meadow. Pia sagged tiredly against the rough bark of a tree stump. Her eyes drooped and every muscle in her body felt hammered. The last physical test had taken the last of her energy.
Her stomach felt empty and hollow. When had she eaten last? She couldn’t remember. Pia’s eyes slid around the meadow, seeing others laid out in various resting positions. Quite a lot had already gone down the mountain, she realized. Maybe only a dozen remained in a similar state as her. Exhausted, drained, numbed. The tests had been strenuous. Even Pia’s yi channels felt weak and wobbly from drawing on them so hard.
Her head fell back against the stump, and she looked up at the darkening sky. At least the tests were over now. All the anxiety over studying, memorizing, and impressing the Masters was done. They either succeeded or failed.
As Pia stared up at the sky, she reflected on her matches from the day, each one going well, but one made her lips curl into a smug grin. In her second set of matches, sparring with staffs, she’d gotten matched with Mai.
The memory of Mai’s face flashed in her mind, her barely hidden glee as she stepped into the test circle. Pia couldn’t blame her; just days before, Mai and her friends had easily beaten her. Mai had expected an easy win.
One of the things Pia had always loved about Reflection was that physical training was up to the student and their father. As such, Reflection focused primarily on the academic aspects of training. They had some physical training classes, but students paired up with their friends. Pia had always paired with Fewl or Conch. Most of the students had never sparred with her before. It had helped Pia keep her skills hidden, an edge for the future.
As she’d faced Mai across the test circle, a swirl of bitterness and regret churned within her, but it was her uncontrollable anger that surged to the forefront.
Mai and Mei were rare identical twins and beloved in Dwelling. Blessed with beauty, talent, and a prestigious family, they had every opportunity at their disposal. She’d never held it against them that they were a bit on the arrogant side. Mai and Mei studied and trained hard, in Pia’s eyes, they deserved the right to be cocky.
She regretted that they’d never been friends. Part of her liked Mai and Mei—their confidence and determination had impressed Pia. Perhaps because she lacked that total confidence it made her admire it all the more in others. Maybe in a life where Pia had parents, they could’ve been friends. Their social class differences were too great to allow it in this one.
Yet, her anger had rolled and bucked within her chest, a savage dog biting through her ribs to get at her heart. It wanted to be free, to bite the hand that dared attack her. The injustice of getting beaten over a spoiled girl’s secret dating had been hard to swallow. She recalled the sneer Mai had given her when she’d gotten Mei, Quil, and Yao to attack her.
Pia savored the look on Mai’s face—the false sense of security in her smirk as the fight began. Mai’s family specialized in water yi, Pia quickly realized this when darts of water poured off Mai’s staff, heading straight for her. Though Pia had no family skills, she trained ceaselessly. Spinning her staff, she drew on wind yi and shoved the darts aside, her anger propelling her forward into the fight.
Pia slammed the butt of her staff into the ground, rolled forward, and swung it down toward Mai's head before she could react. She blocked and sent a wave of water blasting toward Pia with the hit. Ducking low, Pia swept the bottom of her staff between Mai's legs and shifted her body to the side, bringing the staff behind Mai's knees. It caught just the edge of her knee and threw her off balance.
It gave Pia a chance to roll away and quickly draw a talisman onto her staff. As soon as she sprang up, Mai was attacking. Balls of water, like floating cups of power, soared at Pia with every move of Mai’s staff. Sweat poured down Pia’s back as she dipped and dove, parrying each with her staff.
Looking for an opening, she realized Mai was strong on offense but weak in defense. Holding her talisman steady, Pia pulled in wind yi, propelling herself slightly faster with each movement. Mai's face flushed as she ramped up her attacks, but Pia saw her moment as Mai faltered.
Moving with too much emotion, Mai swung her staff in a wide arc, leaving her left side exposed. Not wasting the chance, Pia released her hold on the talisman. Wind yi roared forward, knocking Mai’s staff high into the air. Pia let her staff slide through her hands and swung wide and hard.
The wood of her staff smashed into Mai with a resounding thud, sending her flying across the test circle, out into the grass.
Pia’s lips grinned widely as she saw the horrified, furious look on Mai’s face when she realized she’d lost. Pia hadn’t been able to hold back a respectful bow.
Even now Pia’s chest felt warm at the memory. She’d already let her grudge go, but she wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity.
Her attention was brought back to the meadow as other students shifted with moans of complaint. The air was cooling and the drying sweat on their bodies gave a nip of encouragement to move. Aches and pains were likely settling in, and even the yi richness of the mountain couldn’t soothe those.
Still, the yi rich wind invigorated her spirit. The yi on the mountain had a bite to it that felt full of vigor, almost a savage curiosity. It curled around her, rustling her hair, and sweeping over her body. The grass and flowers bent and swayed, releasing a sweet aroma into the air.
Pia lingered, eyes half lidded, until the vestiges of the sun disappeared and the bright, radiance of the stars peaked out from the clouds.
It was only then that she rose and began looking around for Fewl and Conch. There were very few students left and Pia scanned them as she went but didn’t see her friends.
She scanned the area once more, mouth turning downward in a frown. Perhaps they had fallen asleep. She knew they wouldn’t leave without her. Making her way across the meadow, Pia finally spotted two figures sitting near the edge of the cliff. The crooked top knot on one and the rigid posture of the other made her smile.
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Her steps gained some energy as she made her way to them. They looked up, saw her, and smiled. She collapsed down beside Conch, leaning heavily against him. From below, lights lit up parts of villages and towns in the distance. Dwelling couldn’t be seen from the top of the mountain and Pia often wondered which towns they saw in the distance. Someday, she’d go there and find out.
“How’d you do?” she asked them after a few moments.
“Pretty sure I passed,” Conch said, voice rough with tiredness. “What about you?”
“The physical tests weren’t too bad. Not too sure about that last essay question on the exam though,” Pia said.
Fewl leaned forward to see her around Conch. He had been idly picking strands of grass, but his fingers stopped. His brow furrowed as if puzzled. Pia could see tiredness in the way he squinted his eyes, the slow blink he gave after speaking. They were all exhausted.
“I thought that would be easy for you. We’ve often discussed the nature of the five elements and the causation of attunement for martial artists,” he said.
Pia shifted to look at Fewl better.
“What are you talking about? It was about the ‘righteousness of wielding a sword’ and maintaining a ‘humble heart’ and what made an attack ‘prideful or virtuous,’” Pia said, putting emphasis on the sections she remembered from the test.
Fewl and Conch looked at each other in confusion then back at her. Pia was too tired for fear, but their looks had her worrying nonetheless.
“I had the same question as Fewl,” Conch told her.
“What? I had a different essay question?” her voice incredulous.
“It seems the case,” Fewl said.
“That’s odd,” Conch said.
Pia fell backwards with a low whine.
“I’ve been cursed,” she said with a grumble.
Conch patted her leg comfortingly.
“I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything. Besides, I saw during one of the sparring rounds. You sparred with Dusk. That fight looked amazing,” he said, kindly redirecting the conversation.
Fewl looked over his shoulder and saw Pia grinning up at the sky.
“It was fun,” she said, voice bright and happy. “I knocked him out of the ring in six moves.”
Fewl smirked when he heard the traces of smugness in her voice. Her head turned to look at them and her gaze was questioning.
“I missed most of your fights. Who’d you get to spar with?”
“I sparred with Jin and Bean. Almost lost against Jin in the first round,” Conch said with a wince, rubbing his shoulder. “I didn’t know he was good with earth yi.”
“Catch you from behind?” Pia asked, knowingly.
He nodded, grinning ruefully, and added, “I owe my brothers for all the times they’ve struck me from behind.”
Pia laughed.
“Who did you fight with?” she asked Fewl.
“I had Gui in the first round and Wen in the second.”
“How’d they go?”
“I won both,” Fewl said, quiet pride in his voice.
“So much information I can’t handle it,” Pia said teasingly.
Conch laughed and said, “I think they both cried having to spar with him.”
Her mind raced. They’d had only two rounds of sparring? That seemed off.
Hesitantly, she asked, “You had only two rounds of sparring?”
Again, both her friends gave her a quizzical look.
“Yes? Did you not also spar twice?” Fewl asked her.
Pia shook her head.
“Four times,” she told them.
Their faces looked at her with surprise.
“Who else did you spar with?” Conch asked.
Pia thought about it.
“First was with Dusk. The second was with Ant. Then, two more with wooden staffs with Lulu and Mai.”
“Strange,” Fewl said, staring at her speculatively.
“Glad we didn’t have four too,” Conch said, teasing her.
Pia nudged him with her leg, too tired for anything that required too much effort.
Her mind continued to churn. Why had hers deviated from theirs? Did it mean something? Or was it because she was a girl? Surely it couldn’t be that. She’d experienced quite a lot of issues for being an orphan, but discrimination against her gender had not been an issue. It didn’t make sense to her that that could be an issue now. Stoneface was tough but no one could say he was biased.
“It’s over now,” Pia said, sighing a little, forcing her mind to quiet. “Now, we wait and see.”
“We are still doing our plan tomorrow?” Fewl asked her.
Scoffing, Pia looked at him with narrowed eyes.
“After drilling us for days, just try to get out of it.”
He gave her a tired grin and then laid back in the grass. Conch remained sitting there until Pia and Fewl reached out and hauled him backwards. The three laid there, staring at the stars, plagued with thoughts about their futures, but enjoying the moment together.
A star fell across the sky and their breaths caught. Quickly they closed their eyes and each prayed. Pia, heart full of affection for her friends, could only wish and pray that they always remained true friends, no matter what the future held.
“Don’t let them forget me,” she thought, staring at the sky with sleep heavy eyes that held tears that went unseen.
The next day, the rain returned keeping many inside their homes. Pia woke up, saw the rain, and felt it was an ominous sign. To counteract the dread, Pia spent the day training, forcing her sore muscles to move. Sitting inside Dedication would drive her crazy. The cold, damp home only stirred her anxiety and worries.
Fewl and Conch had celebration dinners with their families, and though both had invited her, she’d politely declined. Neither of their families ever treated her poorly, but Pia never felt comfortable there. It felt too warm and cozy, touching a part of her soul that ached with pain to feel it. Seeing their families rubbed salt in the wound that dug deep into her core. On a day meant to be shared with families, Pia wanted to be alone.
In the evening, the three met again in the shrine. The rain had lulled to a fine mist and a heavy fog had rolled into Dwelling.
Conch arrived with a basket stuffed with dumplings. Fewl brought two jugs of tea and Pia brought a bundle of cakes. The grove was soaked with rainwater but working together the three used wind and fire yi to dry the ground.
“Did you make these?” Pia asked, biting into another dumpling.
Surprised, Conch asked, “How could you tell?”
“It’s the green onion overload,” Fewl said.
“You always add too much green onion,” Pia agreed.
“If you don’t want them…” Conch said, reaching to take the dumplings back.
“No no no,” Pia said, pushing his hand away. “I never said I didn’t like them.”
She stuffed another in her mouth, chewing it quickly. She saw Fewl eyeing another one and she scowled at him.
“Didn’t you eat already?” she said, blocking his chopsticks from a dumpling.
“That was hours ago. I’m still growing,” he said, snagging a dumpling while she brought one to her mouth.
“About to be growing sideways,” she teased.
He ignored her, turning to look at Conch, who’d fallen quiet, deep in thought.
“Did you bring the design?” Fewl asked Conch.
Conch shook his head clear of his thoughts and reached into his inner robe for the paper.
Pia and Fewl leaned in to see as he carefully unfolded the drawing. Their eyes went with amazement.
“Incredible. This is exactly what I was envisioning!” she said, voice bright and happy.
“It’s not what you gave me to work with for sure,” Conch teased.
Fewl slid the paper from Conch’s grip to get a better look at it. He was impressed. Three black and red koi fish and an orchid formed a flowing circle. Conch had drawn it in a circle, giving it the appearance of a moon gate. It was not too large or too complex, but elegant and refined. Truly a beautiful drawing.
“Excellent brush strokes,” Fewl said in praise.
Conch gave him a warm look. A compliment from Fewl was high praise!
“I agree. Maybe you should become a scholar gentleman, not Fewl,” Pia said earnestly.
Fewl stole the dumpling from beneath her chopsticks in retaliation.
Putting down her chopsticks, Pia rolled up her sleeve and pointed to her inner left forearm, close to her elbow.
“We are still doing it here, right?”
The boys nodded, also pushing up their sleeves.
“Have you memorized the movements?” Fewl asked the pair.
They nodded, despite his dubious look.
“Let’s begin.”
“Wait!” Pia cried. She jumped up and went back to the shrine. “It needs an offering first.”
“The Shrine of Absent Minds,” Conch joked.
She shot him a dark look.
“The Shrine of Three Koi and an Orchid,” she said, getting two pained groans in response.
“Not that again,” Conch said jokingly.
Inwardly, Fewl and Conch both liked her optimism. It gave the setting a less sorrowful feeling. As if it was just another day, not the last.
Ignoring them, Pia lit the incense, bowed three times to the box, then returned to them, sitting knee to knee together.
“Okay, I’m ready now.”
“First, draw on yi,” Fewl said.
The three lifted their fingers to their foreheads and pulled on their yi core. Yi was the essence of life; it was in everything that lived. The five elements were the five main aspects of life—water, fire, earth, wind, and metal. Martial artists were able to cultivate the five elements within themselves, a soul within their soul. As they were novices, none of the three had managed to grow their yi soul past the first, green stage. As such, when they pulled their yi outward, three sparkling green lines filled the air.
“Next, we burn the talisman into our skin,” Conch said.
In unison, Pia, Conch, and Fewl twisted their fingers downward, facing their left arms. With quick, precise movements, they slashed the designs into their flesh using wind yi to cut and fire yi to burn. Pia had meticulously crafted a talisman designed for this ritual, secretly practicing on her leg to ensure it would work flawlessly. She was grateful they’d never see her own attempt; the teasing would have been relentless.
A meaty, sour scent filled the air as their skin burned, turning pink, then red, brown, and finally black. Sweat trickled down their foreheads, mingling with the heat radiating from their arms. Despite the intense pain, shivers danced across their skin, a confusing mix of discomfort and exhilaration.
“Now, we bind,” Pia said, voice tight with strain.
Flipping their fingers upward, they reached them out to the center of the circle between them. Spreading their fingers into a V, they connected their yi together. The yi roared into a ball of bright green light, swirling with fierce energy. Excitement rose in their hearts. They were doing it!
Once more, they pulled their fingers back to their arms and formed the signs for the talisman with their combined yi. From paper to skin, they bound the design to their flesh. Releasing their yi, the three panted into the night. Incense wafted through the air, bringing a fresh scent of osmanthus and rose into their noses. Their eyes locked onto their arms.
It was done. The design was permanently inscribed on their bodies, still glimmering faintly green as the yi dissipated.
“I can’t believe we did it,” Pia whispered.
“Let’s compare them,” Conch said excitedly, thrusting out his arm.
Crowding together, the three held their arms side by side, looking for any imperfections in the other’s. They were all identical. Conch’s drawing was permanently marked onto their arms.
“I can’t believe you managed to not mess it up,” Fewl said to Pia, his lips quirked mockingly.
“Conch is worse than me at talismans and sigils,” Pia reminded him.
“I’m still here,” Conch complained, pouting.
Pia stared at the designs, her heart swelling with happiness. Now, no matter where they went or how long it was until they met again, they’d always have a connection. Gratitude filled her for their friendship and trust, though so much remained unspoken.
“Tomorrow families are notified of offers,” Pia said softly.
“How will you receive yours?” Conch asked her.
“I’m not sure,” Pia admitted, she’d wondered the same. “Maybe Count Sol will receive them. Or they might come directly to me.”
Count Sol was her official guardian until either apprenticeship or adulthood. Despite that, he was absent from her life except for sending servants to Dedication occasionally. She doubted he’d receive her offers—he was entirely disconnected from her life.
“I can ask my father,” Conch offered.
Conch’s father, General Jiang, though low-profile in Dwelling, held considerable influence.
Pia shook her head.
“No, I’ll wait and see.”
They lapsed into silence, thoughts on the next day. None of them dared mention potential failure—receiving their test paper back. It was a fear none of them wanted to speak aloud.
“Our friendship does not end when we part,” Fewl said, voice full of determination. “We will meet again as disciples of our sects or Masters.”
“When we’re stronger, let’s travel the world together,” Conch suggested, a big, dimpled smile lighting his face.
“When I reach immortality in three years, I’ll have forgotten all about you,” Pia declared, sticking her nose up and looking away playfully.
“And I’ll be riding a crane while playing the seven-stringed zither,” Conch said, expression deadpan.
“I’ll be the emperor then,” Fewl said, equally serious.
Laughter erupted among them, the solemnity of their mood melting away. Though thoughts of their impending futures loomed over head, for now, they chose to embrace the moment. Incense burned in the shrine box behind them, sending thin trails of smoke to the heavens.