Premise: Revenge focused Xianxia/Wuxia
Prologue:
The window was open, Sinai realized.
Slowly he sensed the slight push of the afternoon wind on his loose robes. It moved between the half-mended holes in his old, heavy worn robes. Upwards it slithered. Past his torse, his face and then back behind his ears, where it then dissipated.
It was an annoyance. But not one worth the effort of disentanglement from his semi-trance. He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, and had his open hands on his knees.
Inside that small, dilapidated bamboo house he slept and trained within, Sinai felt his mind glide between a state of wakefulness and sleep. This room was where he slept, and where he trained. The latter exactly what he was doing.
In that silent stupor, where his mind warred against his will, he sensed the tug and pull between those opposing forces. One meaning to remove him from this place of silence and the other to venture beyond it.
He hadn’t the intention of giving up. Not when he was this close.
He knew that he wasn’t supposed to do this. But when no other options seemed open, this had to be done.
It was dangerous forcing his will against his wakened mind. One small issue, whether internal or external, would shatter his mind then and there. But this had to be done. Damned, be the consequences.
He continued despite those worries. His mind moved then, away from a wakeful state and onto an ether of perceived darkness.
Deeply hidden from his wakened mind. And away from its reach completely. He was now free.
As the ether then sprung up, his mind moved.
Away from his wakeful state, the ether grabbed hold and didn’t release him, until all of him had been taken. He was no longer safe and afforded the protection his wakeful mind provided.
But that was no matter, for he had succeeded. He was finally within his sleeping mind. He was gone from his external self. Now all that remained was his will coalesced in an ether of darkness and opportunity.
Now all that he sensed, tasted, and heard was the silence echoed by the ether surrounding him. His inner eye awoke then, seeing the darkness around him. Though he couldn’t touch, nor feel his surroundings, he knew where he was. He was exactly where he needed to be.
He was here for a specific reason. That was what he had to remember, for, within this place, thoughts represented a dangerous game of cat and mouse. One could lead to great rewards or to destruction.
He thought of what he sought. Attempted to sense it. No, he vehemently desired to sense what he sought. The stronger the intentions, thoughts, and will, the easier his road towards it would be.
The ether embraced him then, enveloping every pore of his non-existent flesh and pulled him away. He felt nothing, except a slight pull coming from somewhere else. But he ignored it then, for he had something important to do.
As he moved or perceived himself to be so, he saw something in the horizon. A small specter of light. The further away from this light he was, Sinai felt safe. But as the ether continued to rush him towards it, he sensed the light for what it truly was.
It was a beacon. One of misery, destruction, and terror. From it extended the tendrils of death, eroding the control that the ether forced him forward with.
If he could breathe, he would have realized that by now that it had stopped. If he continued forward, he would die. That was for sure.
In between thoughts of terror and fear, he asked himself why his sleeping mind had decided that his wish lied beyond or within the death that reigned beyond the horizon.
He would trust it for now. And attempt to control his quickly eroding mind. He was losing himself. That he knew.
But if he knew, then he could still fight it. It was only when he couldn’t recognize it, that he would be screwed. And that wasn’t what was going on. At least for now.
He controlled himself and stopped thinking about the terror and fear. He wished he could close his eyes, but what he saw and sensed was inescapable.
He rushed then still towards it. Thinking, and feeling his intent still. His fervent wish. His desire to sense what he sought. And the stronger his feelings and intent became, the faster he flew towards the light.
It was no longer a dot of light in the horizon, but a fast undulation of light that rushed from somewhere below the horizon.
He saw the tendrils of light and felt the fire rush up into the air, striking and disappearing into the ether around him. It was vast now. To both of his right and left all that he saw was the light that rushed upwards.
He felt the pulse of what released this undulate from the deep below. And heard from within himself, the small thud with which it pushed away its tendrils of death.
He was stopped briskly then. Exactly on the horizons tip. The end of this landscape of light and dark. He had reached the border of this place.
The ether was now behind him. A landscape of darkness. And yet, in front of him, where ether did not exist, lied nothing.
Not a hollowness waiting to be filled. Nor a space devoid of something. No. Unlike the ether where darkness filled everything, lied before him now a complete landscape of nothing. Existing, and yet not at the same time.
He couldn’t fathom what he saw before him. How could nothing exist and yet not?
His mind slowly separated, coalesced, and then broke and rejoined. He had begun to erode then. He didn’t realize it, for he was already beyond and gone his exterior and interior.
His mind fragmented, his will brightly burning away the self, and his person becoming one with that which lied beyond.
He was being eaten. He was burning. He was being birthed, taken, and rebirthed. He was all that he once was and all that he could be now and forever.
And just before the nothingness took him from what he truly was, he was pushed over the horizon.
Downwards he flew.
Away from the nothingness and darkness. Away from the husk that contained what once could be. He flew wearing a broken husk of what is, towards the warmth and death that wished to envelop the remains of him below.
As he had been transfixed by the nothingness beyond the horizon border, he hadn’t realized that below beckoning him was the small undulating pulse of light. A mini sun that raged fearlessly.
As he fell, his mind of what is began to erode again. But now, fragmented, and whole, he sensed the destruction it was going through.
He sensed the erosion he was feeling. And despite that, all that he saw and now even felt, was light, heat, and death. Everywhere was light and he was about to bathe in its splendor and die. And then be renewed. Rebirthed in its image. A new fragment. And it was glorious.
As he fell, for what felt like years, he felt his feelings of self erode. Sinai was dying. His wakened and sleeping mind were conjoined. His mind a fragment, and nearly gone. Nearly the entirety of what had been Sinai was slowly being stripped, broken, and separated into something new.
But despite the way the light held him, and the still eroding effects of the nothingness that grew within and twisted the fragmented unite of self.
He thought still of his desire. Or attempted to do so. But he was growing weak and was beginning to forget why he wished and thought for this wish. But it remembered. The fragmented one remembered.
He had to remember. No, he let it remember. He felts their hand on his. Guiding him inwards. Towards destruction.
He felt the memories they now guarded rise. He sensed his heart bleed in agony, and despite this, he let those old memories resurface.
He saw the pictures of mangled corpses. Saw the entire of the slaughter that took his father, mother, sister, and clan. Heard a cacophony of screams rise in a symphony of death and misery.
Lying under crumbled rocks and bleeding from his head. Terror taken.
He saw everything. And the pain he felt then, they felt now.
They sensed the rage swell. No, felt the rage swell.
But their mind continued to erode despite this. And he questioned then why they were angry. He didn’t know why. Only that they were.
But he knew one thing. That his desire and theirs was one. And then bathing in that beautiful sea of light and warmth, they became him. And he became them. Broken and birthed anew.
Still feeling the seed of a growing nothingness within, he fervently desired then once again. Utterly.
Thought it completely. Feeling every iota of what remained to become that desire. He set his wish upon the silence and now burning sea he bathed in. And made it fill the hole that had left his broken exterior.
His mind shouted his desire then, for they were now one and complete. As the sun enveloped him, he felt not death then. But rage and hatred.
He shouted out his desire. Shouted out his wish of death and destruction.
He sought to become annihilation itself. To take in and become death completely.
He wished to fill the hole that had been ripped from him. Desired to fill it through the death of those that stole that which he once was and could have come to be.
He screamed a promise of blood and laughed as slithering tendrils of terror and death exploded into the ether and nothingness. They were theirs. And they were him. And now he had become whole and broken. He had become vengeance.
He wished then to leave, and the light granted it. No. He granted it.
The self he had lost had become his power. His mind then the anvil on which death and destruction would be forged. And his exterior a weapon to fulfill his promise.
He rushed upwards. Away from the light. Away from the nothingness. Away from the ether. And away from the struggle between what remained of that which once was his will and wakened mind.
He awoke within his rotten hut and opened up to the world with eyes that gleaned a blood-red color. And he felt his lethargic face melt into a smile. He felt the undulations of heat and death escape his pores. He was ready.
“I’ll make sure you die a slow death, Koia.” He said as laughter began to leave him. And then he quickly disappeared from his once small, dilapidated bamboo home.
Prologue:
The window was open, Sinai realized.
Slowly he sensed the slight push of the afternoon wind on his loose robes. It moved between the half-mended holes in his old, heavy worn robes. Upwards it slithered. Past his torse, his face and then back behind his ears, where it then dissipated.
It was an annoyance. But not one worth the effort of disentanglement from his semi-trance. He sat cross-legged, eyes closed, and had his open hands on his knees.
Inside that small, dilapidated bamboo house he slept and trained within, Sinai felt his mind glide between a state of wakefulness and sleep. This room was where he slept, and where he trained. The latter exactly what he was doing.
In that silent stupor, where his mind warred against his will, he sensed the tug and pull between those opposing forces. One meaning to remove him from this place of silence and the other to venture beyond it.
He hadn’t the intention of giving up. Not when he was this close.
He knew that he wasn’t supposed to do this. But when no other options seemed open, this had to be done.
It was dangerous forcing his will against his wakened mind. One small issue, whether internal or external, would shatter his mind then and there. But this had to be done. Damned, be the consequences.
He continued despite those worries. His mind moved then, away from a wakeful state and onto an ether of perceived darkness.
Deeply hidden from his wakened mind. And away from its reach completely. He was now free.
As the ether then sprung up, his mind moved.
Away from his wakeful state, the ether grabbed hold and didn’t release him, until all of him had been taken. He was no longer safe and afforded the protection his wakeful mind provided.
But that was no matter, for he had succeeded. He was finally within his sleeping mind. He was gone from his external self. Now all that remained was his will coalesced in an ether of darkness and opportunity.
Now all that he sensed, tasted, and heard was the silence echoed by the ether surrounding him. His inner eye awoke then, seeing the darkness around him. Though he couldn’t touch, nor feel his surroundings, he knew where he was. He was exactly where he needed to be.
He was here for a specific reason. That was what he had to remember, for, within this place, thoughts represented a dangerous game of cat and mouse. One could lead to great rewards or to destruction.
He thought of what he sought. Attempted to sense it. No, he vehemently desired to sense what he sought. The stronger the intentions, thoughts, and will, the easier his road towards it would be.
The ether embraced him then, enveloping every pore of his non-existent flesh and pulled him away. He felt nothing, except a slight pull coming from somewhere else. But he ignored it then, for he had something important to do.
As he moved or perceived himself to be so, he saw something in the horizon. A small specter of light. The further away from this light he was, Sinai felt safe. But as the ether continued to rush him towards it, he sensed the light for what it truly was.
It was a beacon. One of misery, destruction, and terror. From it extended the tendrils of death, eroding the control that the ether forced him forward with.
If he could breathe, he would have realized that by now that it had stopped. If he continued forward, he would die. That was for sure.
In between thoughts of terror and fear, he asked himself why his sleeping mind had decided that his wish lied beyond or within the death that reigned beyond the horizon.
He would trust it for now. And attempt to control his quickly eroding mind. He was losing himself. That he knew.
But if he knew, then he could still fight it. It was only when he couldn’t recognize it, that he would be screwed. And that wasn’t what was going on. At least for now.
He controlled himself and stopped thinking about the terror and fear. He wished he could close his eyes, but what he saw and sensed was inescapable.
He rushed then still towards it. Thinking, and feeling his intent still. His fervent wish. His desire to sense what he sought. And the stronger his feelings and intent became, the faster he flew towards the light.
It was no longer a dot of light in the horizon, but a fast undulation of light that rushed from somewhere below the horizon.
He saw the tendrils of light and felt the fire rush up into the air, striking and disappearing into the ether around him. It was vast now. To both of his right and left all that he saw was the light that rushed upwards.
He felt the pulse of what released this undulate from the deep below. And heard from within himself, the small thud with which it pushed away its tendrils of death.
He was stopped briskly then. Exactly on the horizons tip. The end of this landscape of light and dark. He had reached the border of this place.
The ether was now behind him. A landscape of darkness. And yet, in front of him, where ether did not exist, lied nothing.
Not a hollowness waiting to be filled. Nor a space devoid of something. No. Unlike the ether where darkness filled everything, lied before him now a complete landscape of nothing. Existing, and yet not at the same time.
He couldn’t fathom what he saw before him. How could nothing exist and yet not?
His mind slowly separated, coalesced, and then broke and rejoined. He had begun to erode then. He didn’t realize it, for he was already beyond and gone his exterior and interior.
His mind fragmented, his will brightly burning away the self, and his person becoming one with that which lied beyond.
He was being eaten. He was burning. He was being birthed, taken, and rebirthed. He was all that he once was and all that he could be now and forever.
And just before the nothingness took him from what he truly was, he was pushed over the horizon.
Downwards he flew.
Away from the nothingness and darkness. Away from the husk that contained what once could be. He flew wearing a broken husk of what is, towards the warmth and death that wished to envelop the remains of him below.
As he had been transfixed by the nothingness beyond the horizon border, he hadn’t realized that below beckoning him was the small undulating pulse of light. A mini sun that raged fearlessly.
As he fell, his mind of what is began to erode again. But now, fragmented, and whole, he sensed the destruction it was going through.
He sensed the erosion he was feeling. And despite that, all that he saw and now even felt, was light, heat, and death. Everywhere was light and he was about to bathe in its splendor and die. And then be renewed. Rebirthed in its image. A new fragment. And it was glorious.
As he fell, for what felt like years, he felt his feelings of self erode. Sinai was dying. His wakened and sleeping mind were conjoined. His mind a fragment, and nearly gone. Nearly the entirety of what had been Sinai was slowly being stripped, broken, and separated into something new.
But despite the way the light held him, and the still eroding effects of the nothingness that grew within and twisted the fragmented unite of self.
He thought still of his desire. Or attempted to do so. But he was growing weak and was beginning to forget why he wished and thought for this wish. But it remembered. The fragmented one remembered.
He had to remember. No, he let it remember. He felts their hand on his. Guiding him inwards. Towards destruction.
He felt the memories they now guarded rise. He sensed his heart bleed in agony, and despite this, he let those old memories resurface.
He saw the pictures of mangled corpses. Saw the entire of the slaughter that took his father, mother, sister, and clan. Heard a cacophony of screams rise in a symphony of death and misery.
Lying under crumbled rocks and bleeding from his head. Terror taken.
He saw everything. And the pain he felt then, they felt now.
They sensed the rage swell. No, felt the rage swell.
But their mind continued to erode despite this. And he questioned then why they were angry. He didn’t know why. Only that they were.
But he knew one thing. That his desire and theirs was one. And then bathing in that beautiful sea of light and warmth, they became him. And he became them. Broken and birthed anew.
Still feeling the seed of a growing nothingness within, he fervently desired then once again. Utterly.
Thought it completely. Feeling every iota of what remained to become that desire. He set his wish upon the silence and now burning sea he bathed in. And made it fill the hole that had left his broken exterior.
His mind shouted his desire then, for they were now one and complete. As the sun enveloped him, he felt not death then. But rage and hatred.
He shouted out his desire. Shouted out his wish of death and destruction.
He sought to become annihilation itself. To take in and become death completely.
He wished to fill the hole that had been ripped from him. Desired to fill it through the death of those that stole that which he once was and could have come to be.
He screamed a promise of blood and laughed as slithering tendrils of terror and death exploded into the ether and nothingness. They were theirs. And they were him. And now he had become whole and broken. He had become vengeance.
He wished then to leave, and the light granted it. No. He granted it.
The self he had lost had become his power. His mind then the anvil on which death and destruction would be forged. And his exterior a weapon to fulfill his promise.
He rushed upwards. Away from the light. Away from the nothingness. Away from the ether. And away from the struggle between what remained of that which once was his will and wakened mind.
He awoke within his rotten hut and opened up to the world with eyes that gleaned a blood-red color. And he felt his lethargic face melt into a smile. He felt the undulations of heat and death escape his pores. He was ready.
“I’ll make sure you die a slow death, Koia.” He said as laughter began to leave him. And then he quickly disappeared from his once small, dilapidated bamboo home.