The hardest step in cultivation is always the next one, whatever it may be. Even the greatest of Masters started the same way we all did: as a Leaf. -Elder Lin of the Aiku School for the Young

* * *

Xinya’s body twitched and spasmed painfully. Even in her fevered slumber, she could feel the lightning coursing through her veins, threatening to overwhelm her with its vigor and heat. Still, she gritted her teeth, fighting through the storm boiling inside her body, to tame the tempest that would become the foundation of her strength.

It was hard. So, so hard.

She had no idea how much time had passed since the storm where she’d sprinted up the lighthouse stairs to catch the best, purest bolt of lightning she could find. Uncle Yoru might have told her to catch the lightning on the ground, but how could she become a great cultivator without the best foundation? To that end, she’d waited for the perfect opportunity. High in the air, the qi was purer, she was sure of it. Several bolts had struck around her as she studied them, measuring their worth, and when the biggest bolt of them all had amassed its strength above her head, she struck.

So much lightning had coursed through her that she’d felt her bones burning, but she did not give up. She tamed that lightning, drawing it into fresh meridians alongside as much moonlight as she could pull from the lunar tears in the lighthouse lantern. A roaring mix of violent qi roiled and churned inside her, coursing along meridians that were not quite enough to contain it before reaching her core, which was where a whole other problem had arisen.

Xinya had thought she’d been prepared for any outcome. She’d spent weeks with Uncle Yoru learning the theory and practicing the mental discipline required to control qi, all before ever laying a finger on the spiritual energy around her. They’d gone through every scenario, and, though he couldn’t be there with her for the final stretch, Xinya had taken even more steps to ensure her own success. Hanako had been kind enough to consult with her, answering every question she had about the make up of her own internal organs to make sure she didn’t accidentally fry herself. Through this, she learned that the heart, the place she’d decided to place her core, was extremely delicate. One wrong move, one misdirected thread of qi, and she could kill herself by accident.

What had made sense to her weeks ago had put her in a precarious situation. The lightning had been so brilliant, so potent and pure, that her core pulsed with more qi than she knew what to do with. She had to fight with all her mental willpower to contain it, lest a rogue thread disrupt the delicate rhythm of her own heart. It was for this reason that she’d been doing everything she could to direct that surplus power away. Letting it ravage her bones and blood instead of blistering her core and stopping her heart in the same moment.

Tension wore her muscles weary as she devoted everything, day and night, to the fight. She rallied the moonlight, that reflective power that dictated the very fabric of reality, and she went to war against herself. The moon was her shield, and the lightning would be her blade. Without both, she could not carve the world she wanted.

The Light is my shield… The Light is my shield… The words of wisdom her mentor left for her repeated in her mind, protecting her as she fought to contain and burn off the lightning. Every ounce of lightning she caught tearing through her, she mixed with malleable moonlight before discharging it from her. Over and over she repeated the process. Gather, mix, release. Gather, mix, release, until she finally lost the battle against exhaustion and fell into dark nothingness.

* * *

“Tailyn, Tailyn, Tailyn, look! She’s smiling!” the woman’s voice was so far, so distant, that Xinya could barely hear it. She thought there might have been the sound of a babbling baby and maybe a small toy drum, but they all mixed together into a mess of sounds that rendered any response completely inaudible. But, when the woman laughed, it was so crystal clear that Xinya was sure it was real.

“Look at her,” she continued. “She’s going to grow up big and strong, just you see! Lightning fever won’t stop her. My Xinya will become the best cultivator in the land.”

Mom? Xinya wondered as the sounds started to fade away again. She never knew her mother, not really. Seven years had passed since she’d left to fight the Tide Serpent that dwelt in the cracks and crags below the northern reefs. Seven years since she’d failed to return. Xinya had only been an infant at the time, left with a family friend while her parents fought to return home to her. In the end, only her father had made it home alive.

Since then, she had only the stories of Reixin’s bravery to keep the flame of memory alive. She couldn’t even remember her mother’s family name, since her father had refused to put it on the cenotaph erected in place of a proper grave. Hearing her voice, even in the depths of a dormant memory, was worth more than words could describe.

As the voice faded away, it was replaced with another, but this was not the tone of a loving mother. It was stricter, harsher, and yet Xinya felt as if there was a note of familial concern that lay beneath.

“It’s almost time, are you ready?” The memory was fragmented, as if Xinya were listening to it through a closed door. Bits and pieces fell through the cracks, but curiosity forced her to cling to whatever bits she could manage. Someone was answering the strict woman, and she then answered in turn. Then, there was the sound of something moving, gears turning and metal scraping. Then, it cleared up again.

“It may be easier if you closed your eyes,” the woman muttered. “Just relax. You’re in good hands.”

“I know. You know I trust you implicitly.”

Uncle Yoru? The voice that responded to the woman was unmistakably his. There was no one else who could speak with such confidence, despite his voice cracking with fear. But, who was he with? When did this happen?

“You wouldn’t let me play with your cultivation like this if you didn’t. I appreciate your faith.”

The memory ended with a strangled groaning that must have been Yoru. But, soon it was faded and gone, and Xinya was left confused and alone. Uncle Yoru had only been around for a few months, and in that time, Xinya was quite certain that no such conversation had ever taken place. She didn’t know the woman, didn’t know what she was doing to her mentor.

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He trusted her completely. She must be important. But, Xinya couldn’t devote any further thought to it. The strangled cries of pain and hushed reassurance were replaced with a softer voice humming a melody. It pulled at Xinya’s focus, and she lacked the energy to fight it. It pulled her away from the thoughts and the questions, wrapping her in a warm blanket of comfort that soothed her down to her very soul.

For the first time in what must have been weeks, Xinya felt her muscles relax from their lightning-ravaged tension, and her mind was flooded with pure bliss. The pain in her dulled as warmth filled her and wrapped around her.

“You’re going to be okay, love. The worst of it has passed.” This voice, Xinya knew without a doubt. It was the most comforting voice a woman could have as far as the little girl was concerned.

Hanako was looking after her. If her Auntie said it was going to be okay, then she had no reason to argue. Instead, she stopped resisting, stopped fighting, and let herself be taken away by Hanako’s song.

* * *

The smell of soup reached Xinya’s nose, and she was beyond hungry. She felt like she might pass out again from sheer hunger any moment. More than sleep, more than rest or recovery, she needed food. It was her topmost priority.

Carefully, she rolled herself off the little bed that Uncle Lin had brought down to the spare room when she and Yoru had been staying with him, Hanako, his jolly father, and hateful mother. Her muscles ached with the stiffness of overuse, the moment she tried to stand, and it took her several tries to get her feet under her without their protest. In the end, she forced herself to shuffle along the wall as she carefully supported herself to the door.

“Xinya?” Hanako exclaimed as she leapt up from the family table to rush to the little girl’s side. “What are you doing up?!”

“Hungry,” she answered softly. Hanako threaded her hands under the little girl’s arms to support her.

“You should be in bed. I’ll bring your meal to you,” she insisted, trying to turn Xinya and direct her back to her room. However, from Xinya’s perspective, she wasn’t trying very hard, and so she stepped forward towards the table.

“But, I’m already here,” she muttered weakly.

Hanako sighed and knelt before her. “Xinya, you’ve been in bed for nearly three weeks. Give it time.”

It was wise advice, Xinya could recognize that, but the smell of the soup…or maybe it was stew…was too much to resist. She gritted her teeth and pushed forward. To Xinya’s surprise, though, Hanako didn’t stop her. Rather, she couldn’t. As the older woman’s support slipped out from under her, she stumbled.

“Easy, easy!” Hanako urged, rushing to her side again before she could fall.

“Just want food,” Xinya repeated wearily, fixing her adopted Auntie with the most pitiful look she could muster.

Hanako looked into her eyes and smiled sadly. “You’re not going to return, are you?” she asked and Xinya shook her head. “Fine. I know better than to try and strongarm a cultivator, even a little one.” She reached up and ruffled Xinya’s hair. “Come on, then. Have a seat and try to sit up straight.”

This time, Xinya did as she was told and knelt on a cushion as her Auntie poured a bowl of stew filled with chunks of vegetables and white-skinned fish. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but she was far too hungry to refuse, fish or no. With a shaking hands, she brought the spoon and bowl to her mouth and began to slurp down the nourishing meal.

Madam Tenri clucked her tongue at Xinya’s manners, but the little girl paid her no mind. The broth scalded her throat, but she couldn’t stop. After the first drops had reached her stomach, it was as if her body had taken over completely. In a matter of minutes, her first bowl was empty, and the little girl breathed a sigh of relief.

Xinya suddenly felt wonderful. It was as if every cell in her body had suddenly realized that it was alive again and was reacting accordingly. She held out her bowl for a second portion as the pain in her muscles began to relax ever so slightly and vigor began to course through her.

The thick ribbing of a fan cracked down on her wrist, and Xinya dropped the bowl. It fell, slamming against the table and chipping the brim of the ceramic dish.

“You worthless failure of a cultivator!” Madam Tenri shrieked in the piercing tone she got when she was addressing Xinya or Hanako. “First you gorge yourself on our food without so much as a please or thank you, then you break one of our fine bowls?!”

Failure? Xinya’s mind was still too addled by sleep and hunger to figure out what the hateful woman was trying to say.

“Mother, Xinya is allowed to eat as much as she likes,” Hanako said in a menacing tone. “And the bowl is merely chipped. Please settle down.” Madam Tenri clucked her tongue once again and turned her nose up.

“I don’t know why you bother with this one, Hanako. She and her master are little more than parasites, and you have the most to lose. Why can’t you see that, you foolish girl?”

“Not this again,” Hanako muttered, picking up the bowl and swapping it with her own. She filled the new bowl and set it before Xinya once more.

“Your position as the administrator’s wife is under threat, Hanako, dear,” continued the witch. “If you keep coddling them, this failure’s cut-sleeve master will steal your husband, and you’ll find yourself in the streets.”

“That won’t happen, mother,” Hanako answered, her voice thick with exhaustion. It was hardly surprising, so far as Xinya could tell. If she really had been unconscious for weeks, then Hanako had been caring for her for that long. Otherwise, there was no way she would have survived the lightning without withering away. How many nights had she stayed up at Xinya’s bedside to keep her comfortable as qi warred within her?

“Of course, this wouldn’t be happening if you were a more dutiful wife. It’s only natural for you to become a mother, and yet-” Madam Tenri would have continued on, but a purple streak of lightning, followed by a sudden CRACK, knocked the bowl from her hands. It fell to the table, and the entire table fell into hushed silence.

Xinya set down her empty bowl and glared at the elderly woman. “What makes you think I failed my task?” she asked softly.

“Y-you…You were dying of lightning fever! Of course you failed to cultivate!” she stammered.

Xinya desperately wanted to unleash the qi that burned inside. Lightning was the will of the heavens, and this woman was wicked. It was only natural for it to want to smite her, but that would make Uncle Lin sad. Madam Tenri was hateful, wicked, awful and mean, but she was still Lin’s mother.

She stood from her chair. With even the small meal she’d had, she already felt stronger. She straightened her back, tilted her head up, just as she’d seen Uncle Yoru do to those beneath him. If anyone was an expert in showing authority, it would be her mentor, a man who’d built himself a nation and ruled it like a king.

“I’m tired from advancement, so I’ll leave you with a warning,” she began. She held out a hand, trying to keep the limb from trembling as she willed the qi she’d so painstakingly stitched into her core to pool in her hand. Slowly, a small orb of moon qi, just like the ones she’d seen Yoru create, flickered slowly to life. It was pure and brilliant, showing that she was more than just a victim of lightning fever. She was a cultivator now. “I do not need to bow to you anymore. I’ve advanced to Leaf and have furthered my path to heaven beyond yours. I will not bow to you, nor will I tolerate your mean spirit. Lay a finger on me or Auntie Hanako, and you’ll be lucky if I ask Uncle Lin for permission to render judgement.”

Madam Tenri’s face paled to a deathly white made even more so by the pale moonlight in Xinya’s hand. A moment later, she stood slowly and bowed to the little girl.

No words were spoken, but Xinya was ready to leave. Even the small light she’d produced sent waves of dizziness through her head and she fought to remain steady as she walked back to her room. However, before she fully departed, something else needed to be said.

Xinya cleared her throat. “Also, be nicer to Auntie Hanako. I think she’d make an excellent mother if she wanted. I would consider myself lucky to be her daughter.”