by Ivan Kal
A rattle turned his attention to the doors of his cell; Vin heard voices and realized that he had been woken up by these visitors. He closed his eyes to shield them from being blinded by the orb of light that his jailers would certainly have, and waited. A few moments later he heard the door open and the sound footsteps growing closer. Suddenly, large hands grabbed him and removed the shackles from his wrists and ankles, and then the visitors picked him up and half carried, half dragged him outside.
The legs of this body were weak compared to the one he had been born with. The original owner of this body had been a weak spirit artist, his body not even reaching the first step of the path. So, even though he hated being carried, he swallowed his pride and conserved his strength.
He opened his eyes just a bit, letting them slowly adjust to the light. He hated that he was constrained by this frail body, hated that this body’s core was so weak that he could barely push ki through its channels, hated that he couldn’t seek justice for what had been done to him and to his people, and to Orb—his world.
He managed to turn his head enough to see the two that were carrying him. Beasts with dark red scales and black horns, over two meters tall and wide as oxen, with leathery wings folded on their backs. Brutes, they served as heavy infantry for the enemy, slow but powerful. Vin guessed that now, when there was no one else to fight, they had been delegated to other lesser tasks, such as retrieving prisoners.
They carried him out of the dungeon and into what had once been a city of his people, the last that was standing before Vin was captured. The soaring towers of Heavenly Orders no longer pierced the blue sky; now, only craters remained where they had once stood, and the once azure sky had turned crimson as blood. What previously had been the brown-and-gray shape of the Father Storm was now tinted in that same red, and the storms that danced across his surface now seemed angry as he rose above the horizon, filling half of the sky.
Buildings once filled with crafters and practitioners of the spirit arts were now tainted by the invaders. Vin did not know exactly for how long he had been a prisoner; he knew only that he had spent at least a year as a prisoner in his original body, enduring invasions of his mind. The enemy wanted him on their side, but Vin’s will was greater. He would never bow and accept their offer. He had tried to escape, of course—his honor as a spirit-artist demanded the attempt—as these were not artists from another clan, but honorless invaders. He had prepared for months, compressing and purifying his ki in order to gain a burst of power great enough to overcome the strange aura that the enemy used to keep him imprisoned.
He had almost succeeded; he escaped the prison and then ran right into one of the enemy commanders. Had he been at his peak before the imprisonment had weakened him, or if had he still possessed even one of his blessed arms, he could have won, he knew. Instead, he had found himself back in the cold, dark cell. The enemy had then used their cursed artifact and strange powers to extract Vin’s soul from its earthly vessel and put it into another, weaker one, ensuring that he would not have enough strength to escape again. And in fairness this body was not truly weak, Vin admitted: whoever had inhabited it before simply hadn’t even attempted to make the first step on the path. By the shape of the body’s muscles, Vin knew that the body’s previous owner had taken care of it, had trained it to the best of his meager ability.
A strong man for sure for his level of power, but nothing compared to power that Vin had wielded in his original body. The strength that the body possessed now was no match for even the lowest of the enemy’s soldiers. Despite that, Vin cultivated the body’s—or rather now his—ki, pushing and pulling it through the body’s channels. He was familiarizing himself with his new body, hoping that someday he would have enough power to escape.
The brutes led him through the streets toward the main square. Pain shot through his heart at the sights around him, for they gave truth to what his captors had been telling him. His people were gone.
The two brutes carried him through the throng of creatures and their leaders. Human-like creatures with horns and red skin that called themselves Arashan watched over their subjects. Eventually they reached the large square, and Vin immediately noticed the massive construction effort in the center of the clearing. Vin recognized it immediately: a World Gate. Made of gray stone, once finished it would tower above the buildings around it. Memories came to Vin of five thousand warriors, spirit artists all, the best of the best, following behind him as they marched on the gate the enemy had used to invade their world. It had been one last attempt to destroy it and cut them off from Orb, hoping that without support from their own world that they could be defeated.
They had lost. Most were killed; though a few were captured, Vin among them.
This new World Gate drew Vin’s eyes, and he could see that it wouldn’t be finished for a long time, years even, but it told him that the enemy was getting ready to invade another world. In order to do so, they would need a mirror World Gate on the world they intended to invade—that much Vin’s people had managed to learn. As he was dragged past the World Gate, Vin noticed something else. An archway similar in appearance to the larger gate, only smaller. Sized enough for maybe two people to pass through at the same time, with two large crystals placed on two pedestals on each side of the archway, each glowing with tainted red aura.
The two brutes carried him in the archway’s direction, and then past it toward a large round table covered with maps and documents written in what was to him an unfamiliar language. The brutes dropped him to the ground in front of their Arashan commander, who was leaning over the table and looking at maps of unfamiliar lands. The commander turned and looked down at Vin with his yellow eyes. With this new body’s weak sight, Vin could no longer see the soul of the commander, but still he remembered the sight when he’d had the ability: there was a red aura that added power to the being before him. It was as if there were a tether reaching from somewhere far beyond this place that fed power to the being in front of Vin.
The commander studied him, and Vin did the same in return. He glanced at the black armor that covered every part of the commander, each interlocking plate etched with glowing red symbols that wisped with smoke.
“Have you changed your mind, Vin?” the commander asked.
“No, Narzarah,” Vin answered.
Narzarah sighed. He gestured with his hand and the two brutes picked Vin up from his knees, allowing him to stand. Narzarah then turned to the table, pointing. “These are the maps of another world, Kai Zhao Vin. We have finished with yours. Mostly. The few that remain in hiding will die soon enough. And we have already made contact with the people of this new world—a World Gate will be built and the Host will spill through, adding the power of their world to that of our God. You have suffered enough, Vin. You have seen our power. Why delay the inevitable?” Narzarah asked. “A soul is immortal. You know that we can keep you alive and bound to earthly vessels forever. Forcing you from one body to another until you forget what your original one looked like. You will never see the heavens. Accept our God’s offer, Vin. Join the Arashan, and you will have a respected place among the Host.”
“Why are you doing all of this to get me on your side, Narzarah?”
“Because you stood up to us, of course. Your little moon is the first low-magic world we have ever encountered that stood against us with such success, considering your handicap. The only one that had refused to bow and add its strength to the Arashan. Your people have somehow learned to harness their innate power in ways that we have never seen before. There is so little magic on this world that most spells simply can’t work without us bringing gems and anima-wells from other worlds to power them. The innate anima of our mages is not enough to power them.” Narzarah considered him shrewdly. “Yet you have achieved something once thought impossible: you have devised a way to strengthen your own anima. To change it, and to achieve power without the use of spells and magic in nature. And you, among all of your people, have stood on th
e top, the youngest ever to become a Sage. You killed the most of our warriors and mages, and you prolonged what was supposed to be a short campaign of several months to five years. My God can use such talent and strength. I know that you are a warrior in your heart, just like me. Join us, Vin, and you will be by my side, leading the Host in the conquest of the stars.”
Vin listened to the words Narzarah spoke. And even though his words were in Vin’s own language, words which he knew the meaning of, he did not understand half of what Narzarah was saying. But it didn’t matter, in the end, whether Vin understood or not. He would never submit his soul to them. He had seen the mark of their God: the twisting red aura that coiled through their souls, giving them power. It was not something that any honorable spirit artist would even consider. To take such power unearned, to bow and step off the path, would take away so much of what it meant to be a spirit artist.
“If you wanted my power and my talents, you should not have put me in this weak body. In any case, I would never submit my soul to your God. Look at what you are, Narzarah! You have been twisted and corrupted by a power not conquered by your own will. I know that, once, you must have been like me—and now you are nothing but a disfigured puppet of a dark God.”
Narzarah laughed at Vin’s words. “I forget, sometimes, when we encounter worlds like yours. Those that have forgotten about the Sundering, forgotten about your origins. You look at me and see me as disfigured; you think my horns and eyes are a result of what you call demonic energy. Yet there are thousands of species all shaped as the first children of the Lifebringer, and my kind are just one among them. There is so much that you do not know about the rules of our plane of existence.” Narzarah leaned down to look at Vin, making their eyes level. “You think that your body was what made you powerful? It is not. It is your soul. The vessel of flesh you possess is only a conduit to what the soul has the will to do. It is the soul and the will that shape all the power in our universe. Given time, you could get that body,” Narzarah said, poking Vin’s chest with a finger, “to be as strong as your original.”
Narzarah shook his head and looked aside for moment, gazing at the construction of the World Gate. Then he turned back to Vin with a somehow softer look. “I have encountered others like you, Vin. You are an old soul, a favored soul. One which keeps finding its way back to this plane. You want to die and go to the heavens? Hah! You would only be sent back to this plane, and in time we would meet again.”
“None of your insanities change my answer, Narzarah. I will not abandon my honor. I will never give you the secrets of my people’s spirit arts,” Vin said firmly, looking the destroyer of his world in the eyes.
“Well, there is time yet. You are still young, and I will convince you eventually. But I don’t need you to teach me anything. I have already convinced others to share with me the secrets of your arts,” Narzarah said, and glanced to his side as two shapes stepped forward.
Vin had noticed others around the table, but hadn’t paid them any attention. Now he turned his eyes on them and froze. He knew them—Xhao Wa Lei of the Stone Heart Clan, and Xiang Hao Ming Li of the Fire Serpent Clan. He had not seen them since they had marched on the enemy’s World Gate. He had believed them dead, killed in the battle. But now… He might not be able to see their souls, but he felt them. They felt the same as Narzarah, and he knew that there was a pulsating tether that had been connected to their souls from somewhere beyond.
“What have you done?” Vin asked, disgusted.
Lei winced, his face taking on a shameful expression and his eyes looking away, evading Vin’s glare. Ming Li stepped forward, looking Vin in the eyes with a smile on her beautiful face.
“We survived, Vin,” she said. “Our people lie dead on the ground, rotting—and yet we live, and are more powerful than ever.”
“You disgraced your ancestors, your families! What would your father say if he could see you now?” Vin spat at her.
Ming Li’s face contorted into an ugly expression of rage. “Why do I care what the old fool would have thought? He was petty, and jealous of my power—he withheld the family secrets from me! Well, now I don’t need his scrolls, or the Way of the Coiling Fire Serpent! I have more power than he could’ve ever hoped to achieve!”
“And the only thing you gave in return was your soul.” Vin shook his head in disappointment. “You dishonored yourself—for what? For power? Your father was right to deny you the secrets of your Clan. You are not worthy.”
“I am more worthy than anyone ever was! And what do you think your honor will get you?” she spat back. “Our people are dead, and you will never be free. You will spend the rest of eternity as a prisoner of the Host, and there will come a time when even you must break.”
“I will never disgrace myself by stepping off my way, by abandoning the path—by betraying the arts created by our ancestors,” Vin said in return.
“Then I pity you and your honor,” Ming Li said haughtily.
Vin turned from her, not able to keep his eyes on what she had become a moment more. He looked at Lei, someone who he had thought an honored rival once. “And what about you, Lei? Will you not try to convince me to betray all that I am?”
Lei grimaced and turned to look at Vin, the shame clear in his eyes. “I know that there is no point. You will never agree to compromise your beliefs and stop walking the path.”
“That,” Narzarah interjected, “is where we disagree. Solitude and time break everyone eventually.” His eyes got a faraway look about them, and he whispered, as if to himself, “I know that better than most.”
Vin prepared to speak again, but they were interrupted. A group of Arashan approached them. Three men and three women, red-skinned and horned. The first half of the group, made up of two men and a woman, were wearing robe-like garments and carried large staffs adorned with gems on their tips. Vin recognized what they were. The enemy called them “mages,” wielders of strange powers. The last half, two women and one man, were adorned with armor similar to Narzarah’s, swords fastened at their waists.
The group stepped close—yet, among them, Vin noticed a man with no sign of corruption, dressed in an unfamiliar garb. He had red hair and green eyes, and his garb was a black tunic with green embroidery at the hem. A symbol of a strange blade piercing a black-and-yellow sun adorned his right breast. He had a black sash around his waist beneath a leather belt and a long, wide sword sheathed on his left side. The man walked with the corrupted completely at ease, not bothered by their demonic appearance in the slightest.
The leader of the group, a tall Arashan, stepped up to Narzarah. “We are ready to open the breach, Commander,” he said.
Narzarah nodded. “Good.” He then turned to look at the strange man standing among the other Arashan. “Are you ready, Grand Marshal?”
The man looked at Narzarah with contempt. “You fulfill your part of the bargain, and we will pay your price.”
“Careful, Grand Marshal,” Narzarah said threateningly. “There are countless others on your world who would jump at the opportunity to aid us.”
“As long as you help me achieve our goals, we will have no problems,” the Grand Marshal replied tersely.
“Good,” Narzarah said, and the group left, heading toward the archway.
The Grand Marshal’s piercing green eyes glanced at Vin as he passed him, but he didn’t stop. Vin’s gaze followed the strange man as they reached the archway. Two Arashan mages stepped close to the two crystals on each side of the construct, and started chanting.
“You disapprove, Vin?” Narzarah said, forcing Vin to look back at him.
“That man has no honor. Whatever he wants is not worth what you will do to his world,” Vin said.
“Your own people have done the same. The Golden Lion Clan built a World Gate for us in secret, and here we are.”
“Yes, and they were the first that you killed.”
“Your people are strong,” Narzarah said simply, “and strength breeds arrogance. T
he Golden Lion Clan misunderstood what we are. They sought to control us and use us to conquer the other clans.”
“And that man, does he know what you will do after you reach his world?”
“Of course not. He thinks that the Host will aid his people in the conquest of their world. And we will—for a time. Perhaps if they prove worthy, we might even allow a few to join us. But we will deal with them appropriately once the time is right.”
“Their world must be without honor if any of them would use you to further their gains,” Vin said sadly.
“Ah, the ignorance of your people never ceases to astound me. For all the knowledge you have gained in your arts, you are ignorant of greater realties of this plane.” Narzarah shook his head, and gestured to the two brutes. “In time you will see the truth. And when you do, you will join us.”
The brutes stepped close to grab Vin and carry him away back to his prison.
“I can walk by myself. Allow me this decency, Narzarah. In this body I am harmless to you and yours,” Vin said, defeated. His dignity had been stolen; he needed something back, even something as small as this.
Narzarah looked at him for a moment, then nodded at the brutes. “There is nowhere for you to run now. This world is ours. Walk back to your cell, Vin, and think hard on what I have said. At any moment you can change your answer, and I will welcome you in the ranks of the Arashan with open arms.”
Vin nodded at Narzarah, and turned to walk back toward the prison. He glanced at Lei and Ming Li as he walked pass them.
“You will break, Vin. I know you will. And then you shall see the power that the Arashan and their God offer,” Ming Li said, smiling darkly.
Vin ignored her and walked away, the brutes following two steps behind him. He drew close to the archway, seeing the group of six Arashan and the strange man waiting as two Arashan mages kept their staffs pointed at the two crystals, red energy seeping from the staffs to the crystals. Vin slowed as they stepped close. The brutes, seemingly content to follow his pace, slowed as well.
