The paper burned leaving behind a mound of ashes.

“Another failure.” Dean said, sighing and sitting on his chair. His eyes grew heavy and his body relaxed. No, I can’t sleep now. Dean thought, pushing himself to stand. I need to find the right formation. Lest Kael won’t be healed.

Dean was mentally exhausted. He had spent all night reading through Ian’s research and testing countless formations. Normally, drawing so many formations wouldn’t have been enough to tire him so much, but he had been using Orus paper and ink. And that required immense focus.

One had to draw the formation with the flow of qi in mind and imagine how the flow of qi would travel when activating it—then draw it in reverse. Not only that, but you had to draw from beginning to end, without breaks. It was a mentally exhausting process, but it was the safest and most efficient method to theorize new formations.

Orus paper and ink provided a way to test the stability of a formation without the need to waste ingredients or the danger of qi explosions. If the formation would end up in failure, the paper would just burn. At worst, it would burst, but never cause mortal danger. This was because it was made from the skin and blood of the Orus Bird.

The creature had been known for its strange ability to deflect any qi attacks or formations by guiding them through their bodies. It was so strong that even Mending masters would not harm the bird in the slightest. The beast was not strong, however. One punch by a non-cultivator would kill it. That had baffled scholars for years until one day, a trainee messed up his formation—causing a flock of Orus to burn up—that they turn to study the bird in detail. Years later, they created the paper and ink.

However, it was not perfect. Sometimes the paper would burn even with a perfectly working formation. The chances of it happening were slim, but still significant. Still, Dean couldn’t worry about that now. He was pressed for time. He needed to figure out how to implant a formation inside a person by the end of the day or Kael would really lose his leg.

Focusing, Dean grabbed the last sheet of Orus paper—feeling the rough grain against his skin. One last chance. He thought, uncapping the bottle of Orus ink. It’s thick putrid smell jolted him awake as he began to draw. Soon, he had drawn all but the final line. Dean held his breath and finished.

He stared at the circle—comparing it with a few notes—and nodded. Everything seemed correct, all he needed do was infuse a tiny bit of qi. Taking a deep breath, he collected qi in the tip of his index finger. A small yellow sphere formed and then he pressed it against the starting line. The qi glowed brightly and turned a deep shade of blue as it travelled through the ink; as if he was activating it. stepping back. This has to work. Dean thought, as he watched the light travel through the formation.

The qi reached the end and dissipated. It hadn’t burned.

“Yes!” Dean cheered, rushing forward lifting the paper. “it wor-“

Then, it burst into flames—turning to ash between his fingers.

“Fuck.” Dean cursed, toppling over a stack of books and slamming his fist on the desk. “Why didn’t it work.” He punched the desk again shattering it.

Dean hugged himself, sinking into his own mind. Into his own powerlessness. I’m useless. I can’t find the answer. He thought, turning his mind to Ian. It’s all your fault. You had to write everything in code and not leave any key. You had to die that day. Searching for your stupid fantasy.

No, another voice rang inside him. Not fantasies. He succeeded. He was proof of that. The strange energy he used to help him achieve his First Mend was not normal. He found what he had searched for, but it killed him.

He closed his eyes and focused on his core on the area where the Tenth Fracture had been. It had a faint reddish tint to it—distinguishing it from the rest of his core. He turned to the Ninth Fracture. It was halfway mended, yet, it had the same coloring as the rest of the core. Once he reached his Second Mending, Dean was sure that he wouldn’t be able to tell that there was ever a crack.

Why is it like that? Dean wondered, like he always had. Even now, he still felt Ian’s qi inside him. It was like he was embedded in his core—within his First Mend. As if he left something behind…

Dean’s eyes lit up as a crazy idea—one that could kill him—flashed through his mind.

Securing the rope to a beam on the ceiling, Dean fitted the noose around his neck and closed his eyes. He focused his energy and recalled it back into his core. The sudden loss of energy caused his body to grow weak enough to allow him to choke.

Dean hesitated. He wasn’t sure that Ian had left a formation inside him—like he had with Kael—but he had to try. If he could experience the formation activating firsthand, then he would be able to reverse engineer the process. He just needed to believe that the caring Ian he knew hadn’t forgotten about him.

Please let this be right. Dean thought as he took a deep breath and kicked the chair out from underneath him. He fell. The rope tightened with force around his neck, digging into his skin. His first instinct was to remove the rope, but he repressed it; letting himself die.

His qi became chaotic and strands escaped the core. As if strands had life of their own, they made their way to his neck. Dean concentrated on the qi and tried to deviate it, but it was too strong. Unlike his usual qi it was astonishingly thick and resistant. Last Will… he thought, It’s real…

He had read about it in biographies and legends, but he could never wrap his mind around the concept. It just didn’t seem possible. Last Will would only occur when a Mending master or above was on the verge of death. Qi would somehow become alive and act on its own in an attempt to save the life. If it was another instance, Dean would have welcomed—even become fascinated—but right now he needed to stop it. Using every last bit of his strength, he fought. The strands halted momentarily then burst through, continuing their path to his neck. No, Dean thought. Please, I need this. Surprisingly, the qi strands stopped—as if they had listened to him—and dissipated. Slowly, his strength seeped away and his vision turned dark.

Still, nothing happened.

Dean began to panic. He was long beyond the point of no return. He barely had enough strength to even lift his fingers. If Ian didn’t leave a formation inside him then it would be his end. Everything turned dark. Is this really how I will die? He laughed at himself as he imagined the reactions when they found him hanged.

Suddenly, the darkness lit up. His body trembled as he felt a foreign energy burn. This is it. Dean thought, focusing his tired mind on the patterns. This is the formation. I have to remember the feeling. A figure materialized in front of him. Ian.

“Hello, old friend. If this activated, it means I’m dead and you’re halfway there.” Ian said, his voice sounding sad. Then he smiled—a mischievous one. “Unfortunately, I’m here to tell you to get your ass back to the world of the living and stay there as I don’t want you here.”

Dean could only stare as tears welled up in his eyes.

“I wish I could say more, but if this drags you’ll really be end up here with me. So…” Ian said, forming a sphere of energy on his palm and pressing it into Dean’s chest. “This should save you and do a little more.” He winked. “Take care of my son and yourself, Dean. I know it must have been hard on him. Tell him I love him.”

Dean let his cries out, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Oh, one last thing. I hope you are still wearing bright colored robes and keeping true to our bet. Even if I’m already dead, it doesn’t mean you can stop before the ten years are up.” Ian said, laughing as he faded away.

Strength and energy filled Dean. His muscles bulged and he heard the rope snap. Landing on the floor he gasped for air. His energy exited his body and swirled around him. It gathered qi from the atmosphere—growing larger and tinting red. Then, it all went inside him. Directly into his core. Dean screamed at the pain, but it only lasted a short moment and a coolness spread through him.

Astonished he glanced inward, into his core and let more tears fall. His Ninth Fracture was now tinted like his Tenth. He had reached his Second Mending.

Dean laughed. Remembering the conversation with Ian. Then laughed some more. Laughed like never before.

“That bastard. Even after he died, he still has the audacity to joke.” Dean said. As the moment passed, Dean turned serious and closed his eyes. “Ian, I don’t deserve the help you have given me. I have failed you. I let Kael get hurt. I hope that you can forgive me for that. I’ll make everything right and I promise not to fail again. If I do, let heaven be my judge and punish me. I won’t let your help go unrewarded.”

A small light flickered and for a moment Dean thought he saw Ian’s smiling face again. Shaking his head, he stood and picked up a notebook—writing down the symbols he felt when the formation activated. He looked at his work and smiled. Kael, he thought, with this I’ll be able to get the herb and cure you. You won’t be a cripple. If this is not enough… he tightened his fist. I’ll use the strength Ian gave me and take it by force.

The door flinging open brought him out of his thoughts. A short and bearded man, dressed in black robes, walked in.

“What do you want, Rick?” Dean said, narrowing his eyes. “And why the hell did you just barge into my room?”

“Dean,” Rick said, smiling. “I have the authority to barge in as I’m here on official business. By order of the Council, you are to present yourself immediately to the meeting hall. A Council Hearing has been requested.”

“And you should hurry,” Rick said, smiling wickedly. “The order was issued half an hour ago.”