“Humans don’t need to eat much,” Cha Ming said.
“Right,” Iridescent Wonder said, picking up another energy-rich piece of cucumber. “Humans are so strange.”
When they entered the palace this time, there were no minions guarding the entrance. No one bothered to issue any challenges. Cha Ming and the other winners of the competition had already proven their worth. They were ushered through with gushing compliments, with the top finishers going through first. Cha Ming was thirtieth, but he didn’t complain. He would be done with this city after everything was over.
They lined up in the reception hall, where the elders and the First Feather sat in their elevated seats. The spectating stands were full, and so were rows of chairs that had been set up behind them. Since Cha Ming was in the last row, he happened to be standing close to Elder Ashen Sky and his daughter, Graceful Twilight.
Elder Ashen Sky, Cha Ming sent. Graceful Twilight.
Well met, Ashen Sky replied with a nod. We saw your performance firsthand, and I confess myself impressed. I was especially pleased when you used that seven-colored fruit. I bragged about it all day yesterday.
There was some good that came out of that incident, Cha Ming agreed. Graceful Twilight, how have you been?
Good, but bored, Graceful Twilight said. Huxian and Bifang are gone, so it’s not so exciting around here anymore. I can’t believe Iridescent Torch tried to give you a score of one.
I’m honestly not surprised, Cha Ming said. I’m just happy they tossed out her vote.
I saw your flame at the end, Graceful Twilight said. Only a hint of color, but it was pure and shining.
I could only manage that little spark, Cha Ming said. No more than that.
That’s because your flame is too strong, silly, Graceful Twilight said. Gray flames hate other colors. Everyone knows that.
Right, Cha Ming said, doubting the truth of her words. Any advice on how to fix that?
She thought for a moment. I am an expert on colors, not flame. My advice is therefore not to focus on the source. Don’t focus on the fire.
Cha Ming frowned.
Don’t look at me like that. I’m a weird phoenix. I don’t have these fancy flames. All I have is glass. But you’d be amazed at the colors I can manage.
I’ll consider that, Cha Ming said. He knew for a fact that she could imitate iridescence, even if she couldn’t absorb or reflect it. Things seem a lot less lively than before, he said to Ashen Sky. The prefectural army?
Yes, Ashen Sky said grimly. Surrounded us yesterday after the competition. Some humans even started killing in the lower districts. We had to put some down and capture others. It’s all a mess, politically speaking.
Unfortunate, Cha Ming said. You remember Huxian, right?
The space-time fox, yes, Ashen Sky said. I remember him.
Well, from time to time, my brother gets strange quests, Cha Ming said. He thought that your daughter might get a quest of a frightening nature containing very frightening information. He said that he, his friends, and all the inkborn got that same quest.
Ashen Sky’s eyes narrowed. I thought it was a prank. Prank quests aren’t unheard of. You’re saying others have gotten it?
Yes, Cha Ming said. Assuming you’ve gotten a similar message, it might be prudent to speak to the First Feather about it and obtain confirmation from Clever Dusk, the Stargazer chieftain. He then passed him a stone leaf. The First Feather can communicate with her securely using this.
The quest is the main reason why we came to this event, Ashen Sky said. I’ll be sure to pass along the information. You have my thanks.
Then Cha Ming turned his attention to the front, where a large painting was being unfolded. The First Feather had abandoned her throne in favor of a smaller one with a better view. Everyone eyed the painting with anticipation. It depicted an ancient cave filled with flames of every color.
“Welcome, everyone,” the First Feather said. “Welcome, champions. Every one of you has shown your worth. You can stand tall yet humbly among your peers, knowing that others are waiting in line to abase themselves in your presence.”
Urgh, Cha Ming thought. Stupid Phoenix Clan customs. It was all about face and pride with them.
“These are dark times for the Iridescent Phoenix Clan,” the First Feather said. “As such, five elders will be accompanying you into the trial cave. Iridescent Chains. Iridescent Smoke. Iridescent Torch. Iridescent Splendor. Iridescent Moon.”
These elders stood up from their seats in the audience and bowed to the First Feather.
“Enter before the others and retrieve what is required. Your journey will be much harder than theirs. Some of you may die, but remember to try your best. Our clan’s future rests on your shoulders.”
The elders bowed again and headed toward the painting with grim expressions. The painting warped as they physically entered it. Cha Ming guessed it was a pocket realm.
“As some of you may know, every clan member is only allowed to enter the painting once. Elders, however, can enter a second time. The trial is difficult, but the rewards are great. These elders will be our backbone in the upcoming struggle. Remember their efforts as you enter the trial today. Spend your time wisely. Do not rush for unworthy rewards. You are all pillars of our clan and should any of our elders perish in the upcoming war, it will be you who picks up their mantle.”
Not grim at all, is she? Sun Wukong said.
She knows, Cha Ming said. She got the same information as Huxian, I’ll bet. You can see the uncertainty in her eyes. In all their eyes.
You think she’s stupid to keep fighting? Sun Wukong asked.
She’s fighting for what she believes in, Cha Ming replied. I can’t fault anyone for that.
“Good luck, champions,” the First Feather said. “Remember that the strongest flames are of the soul. Show me what it means to be proud members of the Phoenix Clan. We will stand guard at the entrance and await your return.”
They began to file through, starting with Iridescent Virtue. Cha Ming sent the First Feather a message as he passed.
Speak to Ashen Sky, he sent her. His daughter received an important quest, and so have others. Then he followed the others as they poured into the painting, their figures disappearing in the distance. One by one, they entered the darkening cave.
Cha Ming didn’t know what to expect in the first trial, but if it involved fire, it would probably be painful. He braced himself as he stepped into the shimmering painting and entered the cave. He and the other champions looked back and saw another painting depicting the throne room.
It’s a portal, Cha Ming realized. Not a pocket realm.
They split up and entered the many caverns leading out from the main one. With every step, the darkness deepened.
Chapter 31: Darkness
The walls of the dark tunnel were made of stone, as far as Cha Ming could tell from feeling his way forward. They were clean, well cut, and bore metal torches untouched by time or rust. None of the torches were lit, and his Grandmist flame wouldn’t catch. Only the slight spark of iridescence within it seemed to linger, though it faded within seconds.
No light sources worked. Neither did Cha Ming’s transcendent force—it was firmly locked into his body by some unseen rule enforced by the trial. Even light channeled through his bond with Huxian was ineffective, preferring to stay in a small ball that illuminated nothing. He could only feel his way forward blindly.
He walked down the uneven floors of the tunnel, hoping he wouldn’t trip. His body cultivation was suppressed, his vitality inhibited. And if there were traps, he wouldn’t be able to avoid falling inside them, for even his domain no longer functioned.
For many minutes, he walked until he finally saw a speck of light in the distance. He followed it and came upon a well-lit room. Like the tunnel before it, the room was also lined with smooth stones. It was simply built, and clean despite the smell of ash and soot in the air. A formation lay in the center of the room, surrou
nded by five mirrors tinted with the five main colors of the Iridescent Clan.
There were also five exits to the room, and each one had a torch just outside it. The torches were identical and immaculate, and each one unlit. When he tried lighting them, he obtained the same response as before. Only a flicker of iridescence, nothing more.
Curious, Cha Ming peered into each of the corridors. They were dark like the one he’d walked through to get here. But from the vantage point of the room, he could see that each one split into several branches, each with their own torches. Only iridescent flames can light the way, Cha Ming guessed.
There were no directions, so Cha Ming stepped into the circle. It glowed with a soft light. “What exactly does this thing do?” he wondered aloud.
“It shows you stories, little human,” said a voice. A bird of iridescent fire appeared in the room. It landed atop one of the torches and cocked its head.
Cha Ming clasped his hands and bowed. “I take it you are the spirit of the Iridescent Ancestor?”
“Yes,” the bird answered. “I came because I was intrigued, ignorant human. You bear the mark of all four of my sisters in some way or another.”
“I’m hardly ignorant,” Cha Ming countered, bringing up a point for the ancestor to refute, as was polite.
“But you are,” the Iridescent Ancestor insisted. “Or do you know this trial and what it entails?”
Cha Ming remained silent, and the small bird strutted around, showing off its superiority.
“Where was I? Ah, yes. These mirrors are facilitators of sorts. They let you replay memories of the past. They amplify them in a way that makes you feel emotions ten times over. They are a powerful tool that my descendants can use to refine their burnings.”
“What about humans?” Cha Ming asked.
“What about humans?” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “My blood makes iridescence easier, but it’s hardly the root of it. We channel iridescence through flames, but even those aren’t necessary.”
Cha Ming nodded. So it was possible for him to gain this so-called iridescence. “These mirrors. Do they have any restrictions?”
The Iridescent Ancestor nodded. “Yes. Each mirror can only contain one emotion. Each emotion tells a story, and you will have no control over what you see once you set it. Be careful which emotion you choose, human. You may well find yourself crippled and overwhelmed.
“And what about their opposites?” Cha Ming asked. “If I picked contentment, could I then pick discontentment in the same mirror?”
“No,” the Iridescent Ancestor said. “Five emotions. Five mirrors. Just like those of the Iridescent Clan and their five feathers and their five burnings.” She eyed him. “As it is now, you only have a smidgin of what is needed to obtain my legacy. You are not qualified for this trial. I do not say this out of spite, but you simply do not have the power to learn any of my techniques. As you are, you will not survive the road of fire that leads to the inheritance blood you seek. I can see it in you, the emptiness. The desire for divinity.”
Cha Ming licked his lips. “I don’t suppose you have any hints? This is a demon trial, after all. I find myself in a terribly unfair situation.” This was something he’d learned from Huxian: Always ask for a hint. They might give you one if you’re lucky.
The phoenix tilted her head and blinked a few times. “Very well, human child. Balance. Your hint is balance. Your cultivation is balanced. You cultivate creation and destruction. You use flames that harness the power of both. Is it really surprising that you can’t manifest iridescence? Without balance, you will never find what you seek.”
“Many thanks,” Cha Ming said with a bow.
“The little human knows respect,” the Iridescent Ancestor mused. “What is this world coming to?” She turned around and flapped away, leaving him alone in the room of mirrors.
Cha Ming stared at them, wondering what he should do. Balance, Cha Ming thought. The arrogant bird had a point. He’d been approaching iridescence in a piecemeal fashion, much like the Iridescent Phoenix Clan would. Every burning would be based on one emotion. Five would lead to iridescence. Was it surprising that he failed when using one, when five in balance were needed? These emotions were unbalanced in that they leaned toward fire, and possibly metal in the case of satisfaction. There were many ways to spin it—perception was key.
Grandmist was neutral. It embodied all five elements. It was creation and destruction in tandem. That he’d managed to infuse his flame with any emotional energy via rage alone was nothing short of astounding. An exercise in brute force and alchemy. He needed balance, but still he wondered how he should seek it.
He thought of his cultivation then. He’d already done this, hadn’t he? He’d already carved his poetic talismans into the core of his being. They were represented by the five key feelings that kept him grounded. Each corresponded to a different element. For gold, he could choose satisfaction, and for fire, love or rage—any passionate emotion would do. As for water, perseverance came to mind. For earth, resilience. Wood, however, was tricky. What emotion correlated to growth?
Wait, Cha Ming thought. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t only these emotions the talismans represented. For every emotion, there’s an opposite. There is no resilience without frailty, no perseverance without struggle, no glory without failure, and no passion without despair or heartbreak. There is no comfort without pain.
“Balance,” Cha Ming thought out loud. “What a difficult choice.” That meant he had two paths to choose from, not one. How would he achieve balance, then? He could try fanning the flames of his emotions with five meaningful memories, yes, but then they would drown out his negative emotions. Conversely, he could pursue their opposites—but wouldn’t that just overwhelm him? Mixing them up would be no good, however, because then the balance of five wouldn’t be maintained. I need to find a way to temper my positive emotions with negative ones, he concluded. Just like Iridescent Virtue.
He remembered a conversation he’d had with Iridescent Virtue about burnings. How Iridescent Virtue seemed so cool and emotionless compared to the other phoenixes. I burned myself with pain and suffering, Iridescent Virtue had told him. I made myself hurt, Clear Sky, and for that, I am stronger. I don’t use my feelings as a crutch. I am always in full control of my emotions. If I want to feel angry, my rage knows no limits. If I want to feel sadness, I will weep rivers. Others only know emotions that invigorate them. They do not know the pain of loss as you do. As do I. I suspect that this may be one of the reasons you have trouble in seeking your own measure of iridescence.
This made Iridescent Virtue’s temperament opposite that of Iridescent Tempest, and to some extent, Iridescent Torch and her disciples. They were all emotion and zero self-control. It was a common trait in the Phoenix Clan. They were passionate and easily offended. Which way should he chase? His angelic endowment was that of hope, but he knew of doubt and pain all too well.
“Think of the light, not the flame, she said,” Cha Ming muttered. “Well, it’s awfully difficult to see the stars at night when you’re living in the city, isn’t it? How am I supposed to find my iridescence with everything else clouding my mind?” Taken in that light, Iridescent Virtue’s approach made the most sense to him. If he isolated that one spark, perhaps it could make it grow.
But it was risky. And it would also be painful. He flinched inwardly as he remembered it all. The wounds he’d suffered, no longer fresh in his mind, were tender scars that would never go away. They hurt like old knee injuries in the cold. They were old sprains that haunted athletes that overtrained. These wounds had brought him low, some of them as recently as a few weeks ago.
On the other hand, hadn’t these feelings allowed him to grow? Weren’t his poetic talismans a result of adversity? If you didn’t hurt, you didn’t grow. He needed to become much stronger, and quickly, so it stood to reason that there was a lot of suffering he needed to go through. It was just a matter of how willing he was to beat himself back into sha
pe.
“For my first memory, I choose helplessness,” Cha Ming said. He sat cross-legged in the circle. The room went dark, and in the pale-blue mirror, he saw a story over a hundred years in the making.
The mirror showed a story Cha Ming knew all too well. He was an ordinary person, going with the flow, helpless to change his direction in life. The same trend that applied to his mortal life continued with his rebirth. It never left him after he started cultivating, and it attacked him at key moments like a predator stalking him in the night.
He saw himself in Crystal Falls, sick and dying in his bed. His qi pathways were broken and crippled. There was no use going on. No sense in fighting. There was more to the story, but the mirror skipped over it. This was a story of helplessness, nothing more.
He saw the time he’d pushed his limits and cracked his core, throwing away any hope of smooth advancement. How terrible it had felt. And then there were the days after he failed to heal it, and again when the trial was over, and a new Sea God Emperor was selected.
Then he was there, facing the Taotie. A creature of pure destruction, a devourer of worlds. How could he possibly face such a creature? He didn’t see the ending. That wasn’t this mirror’s story. Instead, it skipped forward again.
This time he faced a rune-gathering cultivator with Silver Fish and the others in the Kingfisher Trial. They would die here with no one to mark their grave. Their souls would be devoured by cultists, and no one would ever even find their skeletons.
Then he saw the rakshasa ravaging the Star-Eye Clan and the Iridescent Clan. There was a flicker—no conclusion—and now he felt the heat of Bifang’s unlucky flame. The distraught gardener presented the single remaining Iridescent Flame Essence Fruit from Elder Ashen Sky’s garden. Cha Ming would no longer be able to craft what he’d planned.
On and on it went.
The mirror presented a montage of Cha Ming’s life through a filter. It was a history of his helpless moments. It played over and over, and with each viewing, the emotion he’d chosen deepened and tore away at the framework he’d built to keep himself going. It threw him deep into a familiar darkness, leaving only the light of the cold blue mirror to remind him of how difficult life was and how little he could ever accomplish.
Claddings of Light : Book 12 of Painting the Mists Page 48