The song of longing filled the star-enlivened sky as the last moments of dusk faded into the night. Delicate fingers like those of an elven maiden danced across the four-stringed pipa that sat in a woman’s lap and leaned against her left shoulder. With the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, the song that should’ve had the tempo of stampeding horses was played with such a light, expert’s touch that it bled like a long-broken heart that had forgotten what it was to be whole.

The woman sat on a simple, hewn log with a vast assortment of precious herbs growing in the garden at her feet. At her side on a shorter log was a boy of six years old with a home-trimmed head of dark hair and eyes wide in unceasing awe. It wasn’t the song that enticed him so as he leaned against his mother’s arm, but the bead of fire that floated in his lap. As he moved his index finger to and fro, he conducted its flight in a whimsical fashion at first. He found that if he moved it fast enough and in the right trajectory, he could make shapes glow in the night for a brief moment before the flames trail disappeared.

With his other hand, he used Borrow, the first of heaven’s laws, on a pebble at his feet, and it shot up to join the tiny flame and whisk about as he willed.

The woman kept an eye on her son as he played with the elements. He was too young for her to leave him alone for long. There was hardly a day that went by that he didn’t gain another well-earned burn or bruise from his constant tinkering. Even then, she never discouraged him from his play. She gave supportive guidance for every mistake and every discovery. How could she possibly dissuade him from developing his love of the laws the Creator had gifted them? Even after all these years, she still found herself in constant fascination by the scope of what was possible.

“It’s time, Little Chao,” she hummed. Her fingers kept playing without missing a single note. “You can try to hold the fire and earth beads off to the side while we play, but the spirits will be here soon.”

The boy looked up, and the beads slowed to a stop. He saw the milky phantoms approaching from the opposite end of the pond-sized garden. They were just squeezing past the treeline of the dense forest. With the wave of his hand, the bead of fire and the pebble flew off to the side but came to a stop a meter away. They were suspended in the air as the boy picked up his miniature pipa and placed it on his lap. He couldn’t play with nearly the speed and agility of his mother, but he’d been joining her since he was three years old, and the strumming and finger positions had long ago seeped into his muscle memory.

As he began, it wasn’t just the act or the music itself that drew the forest’s lingering spirits. It was his mother’s use of Enhance, the third law, that deepened her music’s impact and ensnared them in its power. The laws of sound were far more complex than the common elemental laws and required knowledge of its emotional impact to use with any degree of proficiency. Despite the difficulty, the boy joined his simpler twang to his mothers’, matching her with near perfection. Borrowing from his own tune, the song penetrated deeper into the night then it ever could naturally.

The woman’s music guided her son’s. She spoke softly as she played, explaining to him why they were there for the thousandth time with a mother’s repetition. “Lingering spirits do not possess the souls of deceased creatures as many believe. They’re what is left of the spiritual energy a creature developed over its lifetime. They have only traces of personality and are driven by lingering emotion. As their remaining energy is used up, they lose form and eventually dissolve. Once someone reaches the level of sky cultivator, their spirit merges with their body and they won’t leave a lingering spirit after their death.”

Over a dozen spirits had gathered this evening to the call of the melancholic song. They were in no hurry as they floated across the garden toward the music’s source.

The boy watched the well-defined specters that held a similar shape to the one they’d possessed in life. He held the same wonder for these magical beings as he did for the laws. Even seeing them every night didn’t change that, for there were always new ones with the old. They ranged from squirrels to birds, deer to bears, and even a few dire beasts’ spirits were present, but although they could be deadly to someone with his cultivation level, under the energy-woven song, they all followed their nature and behaved.

The woman continued her lesson as she prepared for the change in tone. “Sorrow summons, happiness tames, and drowsiness sends them off on their way. In the process, they leave a fraction of their residual energy for the plants of the garden to refine. What would take months to grow takes weeks, and we get to leave a little joy with those lingering spirits while they remain. It’s time. Follow my lead.”

As she spoke, the light, rapid strokes across the strings of her pipa slowed, but the strumming sharpened so the pace sped, and a lighthearted tune was born. The boy didn’t miss a beat.

The lingering spirits stopped drawing near and began to sway in an undefinable pattern that was unique to their nature. Some showed a new alertness, but it wasn’t toward the things of this world, for they didn’t seem to see the boy and his mom. As they came alive with the melodic joy, they willingly spent their energy and helped to fertilize the crop with rich spiritual energy.

Unbeknownst to those present, hovering above a large cabin not too far away, a man watched and listened with the protective attentiveness of a father and husband. Their safety in this wide wilderness was paramount, but he’d already come to terms with the real reason he observed them each night. He’d escaped the snare of violence young soldiers glory in and old ones dread. He didn’t deserve such peace and was even less deserving of the woman who’d chosen to love him.

She didn’t possess the impossible beauty that came from reaching the highest realms of cultivation, but a much more real, human beauty that was far more appealing to him. He would give up the entire world of fairy cultivators for her, and he already had. What’s more, she’d given him the most precious gift he’d ever received in the little boy at her side.

He watched as the boy, at a mere six years of age with a second-level body cultivation, neared small success with the third law of sound. It would be years before he could cultivate energy on his own, yet he’d bypassed the second law, Create, and went straight on to Enhance. Such ability in the laws was unheard of in the divine realms, let alone the lower ones, but on this tiny planet, amongst the ranks of independent cultivators called hedge mages, it wasn’t impossible. There was only one other person he’d known that had accomplish such a feat at this tender age and that was the boy’s mother.

Seeing his son grow and watching his wife and him play with the heaven’s laws like they were their own personal playground was a joy he’d never expected to find after all the struggle and death that defined the first part of his life. So, he looked on and shared in their joy—from a distance. This was a mother’s time with her child, and there was no way he’d ever intrude.

Their song continued for half an hour before the woman directed her son to once again change tunes. The tempo slowed as the trappings of a lullaby began to pacify the spirits. It wasn’t long before they started to float back toward the forest. A few minutes later, the boy put down his pipa and waved the pebble and bead of flame back to his lap. He continued playing where he left off.