“Like a shooting star

Across the midnight sky

Wherever you are

You’re gonna see me fly”

~ Bang!

---

My dusky blue talons tear open a path into the fragile shell of the egg-like Cosmos, slipping past as easily as a knife through melted butter. I clamber through it gingerly, eyeing the firmament of a destabilized rift. It closes in on itself just as my tail brushes past the maw.

Moments later, the all-too familiar yet pleasant feeling of being encapsulated by buzzing, prickling energy draws a delicious shiver along my spine. The Celestial Void, the Final Frontier, the Beyond; the planet-locked natives of this reality attach a great many names to outer space. But to me, it isn’t a place of mystery, nor an empty darkness; it is the place of my birth, a second Grandmist. From one ocean to another. I am home.

Shooting past system after system, galaxy after galaxy, my form casts a resplendent shadow over each planet I encounter. Time is not of relevance, nor do I keep track of it. Time holds no sway over those who possess eternal life, and I am content to simply marvel at the silent grandeur produced by the breath of creation.

Not far off in the distance, perhaps no more than twenty or so lightyears away, a blue supergiant star scatters apart into coruscating filaments of stellar dust and gases, settling into a nebula vaguely reminiscent of a blooming flower. I pause my journey and take a long look.

A slow-burning warmth alights on my chest, prompting me to continue onward. The medallion calls. I raise the piece of flat, chiseled crystal up to my eyes, holding it between two claws. There are two words etched across its surface, a name —Ashina Sol— my father’s name. It is a reminder of my origins.

Solar winds buffet my face with all the gentleness of spring showers as my speed soars into the FTL domain. It isn’t long before I see the point of my destination. A system of exactly twelve planets orbiting a sun, four that sustain life, which I discover with a sensory sweep. They are like marbles of green and blue, with the occasional touch of brown and the white of swirling clouds.

At the center of it all, the Solar Star dangles plumply in the void of space, a radiant ball of heat, gold and tangerine and scarlet. I draw closer to the third planet in orbit, shrinking drastically to minimize the gravitational pull my body would otherwise create. Transmogrification, mother called it. When the transformation is complete, my less majestic form is unveiled. At this point my physical appearance could not be mistaken for anything but a human, one of the dominant species of this realm. I smirk at that thought— me, a mortal? I’m anything but.

Without hesitation, without fear, I take the plunge.

The clouds make way for my arrival with great haste. A fiery golden sheen encases my surroundings as I relish in the gut-wrenching sensation of atmospheric insertion. In this moment I am like a diamond in the sky, a blazing meteor turning night into day. When the stories of this day are told, they will call me many names— god, demon, titan, disaster, but most of all, the Golden One.

Mountains rise. Water falls. The curvature of a crater manifests and fills with water, cushioning my drop, large enough to be considered a great lake. World essence gathers into immeasurable maelstroms of energy, flooding the waters with great fortune and spirituality. I have no doubt that in the coming days, profiteers will come and drain my bathwater for its beneficial properties.

Trails of water curl around my neck and trickle down my back as I return to the surface. The smooth edges of my crystal medallion nestle snugly between my breasts, having shrunken down to the size of a child’s palm. Its silver chain clinks softly when I move. Beads of water linger on my skin, glittering like little jewels lit by my own brilliance. They are quickly vaporized and I am dry again.

It is then that I hear thunderous booms rending the air, a testament to the horde of living souls scurrying to my location. They are as tenacious as ants and just as easily enticed by food, or in this case, cultivation treasures. A pity. I hear treasure-hunting is one of the more volatile occupations.

Ω

Past the ring of mountains there is only ruin where life once stood. Drying blood clings to the ground like thick black tar and a deathly air permeates through the earth itself. There are no bodies left untouched, only bits and pieces of what had once been living creatures; no, people. Scorched flesh and bone fragments lie alongside the still-steaming splatter of minced organs. Even the vultures turn up their beaks at this meal, making their rounds in the skies above before leaving. At the base of a mountain, facing me, there is a complete head with all of its black hair still attached, eyes forever widened at some unspeakable terror.

I shake my head at the ugliness of this display, disgusted by the crude brutality these cultivators have wrought upon themselves. Their powers and techniques are wasted on them. They sacrificed all of these lives, yet not a single one of them gained any benefits from it. Well, that’s to be expected. They aren’t part of the system after all.

These mortals claim to be cultivating immortality and seeking reprieve from earthly suffering, yet they throw their lives away without a second thought in the hopes of striking gold. Even the immortals are no different, fighting tooth and claw for every scrap. If only they knew of the limitless energy available in the Beyond, their shattered souls would rattle in anger.

Magical spells, mystical talismans, spiritual arrays; understanding of the Dao and the universal Laws; none of these can be applied without Power. And Power is what they truly seek. Only by possessing enough of it can one entertain the lofty aspirations of defying fate and fighting the heavens. Following the Dao is merely an afterthought.

Power. It is present in all living things, springing forth from the breath of creation to saturate the cosmos. From the Grandmist came the first breath of creation, which became cosmic energy; and later, world essence. Heaven-earth yuan qi, demonic miasma, mana, desolate energy— all derivatives of world essence.

It’s unfortunate— for them, that is. I must cleanse this world of heretics.

The medallion warms again against my chest, glowing like a beacon of light. My thoughts wander to the reason I am here, on this planet called Star’s Cradle.

Ω

It was one of those days, where I was sitting at the edge of the River of Paths, pondering on the meaning of my existence. A decidedly futile act, yes. My feet kicked up pirouetting waves of frothy white and aquamarine as I absentmindedly fished with one hand. Whichever unlucky soul got snatched from his or her timeline, past, present or future, would be running through my mind today.

Those who knew of us weren’t many. It wasn’t every day that a hopeful Ascendant found their way into the Grandmist Region, only to be kicked back down to their own plane of existence.

They called us the Fateless Ones, we who were born with everything and nothing. Eternal life, infinite power, profound knowledge; we had everything except a story to call our own.

Frantic movements in my right hand drew me back to the riverside. I looked down. A third the size of my hand, the small figure struggled fiercely. Her large emerald eyes searched around in confusion before settling on my face with a resentful glare. A glimmer of annoyance scrunched my brow. Only the wayward ended up passing through this river, and our meeting was simply fate.

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She uttered a chant anxiously, rapidly performing hand seals with her free arm. When the wisp of rainbow-colored lightning struck the tip of my nose, I froze dumbstruck for an instant. The inherent force behind her lightning far surpassed the heavenly tribulations which various cosmos sent down against their defiers.

She widened her eyes when the lightning fizzled out with a snap, and me, unharmed. Her long, pointed ears burned red with shame.

“Release me at once!” she spat at me, half in fear and half in rage. An expression of pure wrath marred her lovely features. Even in such a situation, her arrogance knew no bounds. I gazed down at the pitiful creature.

“If you want someone to blame, blame yourself for coming here. At least you have the honor of dying by my hand.” She would die anyways if I let her go; the Grandmist simply extinguished anything that was foreign to it. Better me than it, at least then her passing would serve a purpose.

The River of Paths. Whether it was gods or mortals, anyone who attempted to travel across different planes of existence was liable to become trapped in its waters. This had made it a popular place for Grandmist Entities looking for lives to experience. The others came often, and in the past, so too did mother, or so I’d been told. I’d never seen her here.

The elf fought, pounding at my hand with tiny fists and then, biting my thumb. When that failed, tears flowed unbidden as she wailed. I remained unmoved.

“Adieu, cherie,” I purred.

The first inhalation splintered her body, leaving behind only a soul divinity, the very essence of her being. My fingers closed tight around it, preventing my target from escaping. The final spark before oblivion. She struggled ever more fiercely, clinging on to that dearest hope of escaping. I almost contemplated releasing her. My inner voice whispered in my ears, feeding me dark temptations against my will. She should not have come here. Don’t let her go. Eat. I complied like an eager slave to satisfy my cravings and popped it past my lips. In its final moments I caught sight of it, a perfect orb the exact same shade of emerald as her eyes.

Rolling down my throat, the orb dissolved. Immediately, a feeling of euphoria rushed through my veins, sending spikes of pleasure to every nook and cranny of my body. My eyelids fluttered unconsciously and my hands curled into fists while I trembled, helpless.

This was the cost of being soul-drunk. For me at least. Occasionally, I would lie sprawled by the river, convulsing for days on end while I flitted through different lifetimes. A momentary respite from my bland, grey world.

The older they were, the more they’d experienced, the greater the high. A few of our brethren were so addicted that they spent every moment fishing. The supply never dwindled, after all.

A sudden sound pierced into my mind, disturbing my reverie. “Ashina Snow.” Mother’s voice called out to me, deathly quiet and filled with a deep serenity that told of a harsh rebuke. I stumbled back, hesitant like a child caught doing something wrong.

My core was still reeling in the throes of pleasure, dulling my senses. Through a haze of numbness, I managed to straighten my heap of jumbled limbs and stand straight up, meeting her gaze at eye level. Looking at her was like seeing a mirror image of myself, minus the eyes. Hers were a pure gold and mine, sapphire-flecked gold.

A strange look flashed past her eyes; I could have sworn it was disappointment. She half-turned away and her gaze fell upon the river. She sighed. If I had a heart, it would have jumped out of my throat by now. I’m so childish. I was an adult woman, however young, at two hundred millennia and still going. And yet, mother could still bring out my deepest insecurities.

“Why do this? This isn’t healthy for your mind, my little Snow. If not for yourself, then think about how your father would feel if he knew about your … ways.”

As she continued to stare at the river, pointedly refusing to look at me, I was unsure of what to say. Why did my mother’s words stab me in the heart so much?

I replied back to mother, defiant, “Isn’t it just a lost soul? She was never going to find her way back home. So what if I ate it?”

The slap blindsided me, strong enough to knock me to the ground. My right cheek stung even though my flesh was supposed to be impervious to any damage. This time, it was I who cried tears, the tears of a child wrongly punished. I stayed on the ground and bawled.

I cried for a long time before mother kneeled down and took me into her bosom, running her hands through my tangled hair just like when I was a little girl. When the tears stopped, the ache in my heart remained. I didn’t know what I had done to make her angry enough to hit me.

Mother continued to hold me in her embrace, whispering, “My little Snow, your father once found himself in the same situation as that person you just ate. It’s how we met, and he’s never really gotten over it.”

“H-how?” I managed to croak.

In all of the years since I’d been born, this was the first time I came to hear about this. I only knew that he was a powerful figure who came from the Origin Plane, a grand Cosmos. He looked imposing, his hair was dark as raven’s feathers and his eyes a mix of blue, red and silver. I didn’t remember much of him, considering that I was only four years old when we left.

She continued with a wistful smile, “Once, I was like you. We Grandmist Entities are born with everything but a family, a history, experiences to make. When I was created by the Grandmist, I was already fully formed. Our perfection is also our imperfection. And so we search. One day, while fishing just as you were, I caught a man.”

At this, mother giggled like a newlywed speaking fondly of her lover, as a flush crept into her cheeks.

“He was a strange one, this man. Unafraid of true death, as if the annihilation of his entire life wasn’t something that concerned him. I haven’t met anyone quite as proud or unwilling to back down ever since. Surprisingly, just before I was to eat him, he asked me about my life, who I was. It only made me more jealous when he shared stories of his own life— his family, his childhood, his past loves, his adventures. I wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. He regaled me with his tales for a thousand years, and afterwards I couldn’t bear to eat him anymore.”

“We fell in love after many aeons. The man I caught that day became your father. The sights he showed me, the things we did together … I was young then, barely older than you are now, little Snow. It was only after you were born that he confessed to me how afraid he was at that time, his entire consciousness held at the mercy of my hands. He said this to me after I confessed he wasn’t the first— no matter how many memories you see, no matter how many you steal, they will never truly be yours. Soon after, I returned here with you.”

With a final pat on my head, mother stood up. Her eyes were filled with her love for me, and something else, hope. I wasn’t sure I would be able to live up to her expectations.

“What about this?” I gestured at the River of Paths. “It’s my only connection to what lies beyond.”

Mother smiled painfully, as if she knew I’d ask this question. She removed the necklace that she always wore and gave it to me. There was an eight-sided crystal plate attached to it.

“Maybe it’s time for you to meet your father.”

Ω

That was weeks ago, decades if you count how long I’ve spent travelling through this cosmos. There’s no rush. Before leaving, I decide to clean up the field of death. Never liked the sight of blood and corpses, even in memories.

The wind takes me up into the sky, where the ugly sight of countless miles razed to the ground fully rears its head. Heaven and Earth bends to my will, as all the blood and gore melts away and the toppled buildings turn into sand. Scattered rubble becomes sand, coalescing into a great desert with the lake at its center. After weaving a series of illusions I depart. This is only the beginning, this world merely the first.