Alice

Fairy Guan scattered iron filings through the morning air into the surrounding pools of lava.

The Skyforge returned little streams of molten iron that swam through the air like orange snakes. It was nearly dawn, and Alice could smell the dew settling on the mountain, even through the cloud of ash from the billowing volcano named Sky Peak - even through the first-faint but now overwhelming whiff of copper from the pool in front of the disciples.

Alice considered the significance of Fairy Guan's Heavenly Questions once more. She'd only read the Yi Jing, the Book of Changes, a single time - but somehow, its words were seared into her memory. They were clearly sought after by many cultivators. The Beggar of Bei'an had formed his foundations off a single piece of it.

The Skyforge was, in a way, more crude than the sixty four expressions of the Book of Changes. It was shaped - by human hands - to resemble the bagua, the eight trigrams, one for each direction. The side of the octagon they stood at was tui - valley.

What themes did the Book of Changes involve the valley in? Southeast. Tranquility. Mirrored reflections.

Fall Equinox.

Alice couldn't keep her thoughts drifting away from this all important forging of the compass. Whether Alice succeeded could determine if she would be the one to inherit the Line of the Bells.

Instead, Alice thought of the Fall Equinox, of the Southeast, of what it meant to be tranquil. Of mirrors. Of flawed worlds. Of the Fall Equinox. Of Falling Leaves. Of autumn.

Alice thought of taking the subway to school, of college applications, of home, of David, of-

"The Widow of the Valley," she repeated, remembering that boat ride and a go game played in the sky.

If Alice were to be entirely honest with herself, she didn't think that she would inherit the Line of the Bells.

Alice was not a student of the Skybound Scripture, even if its words were easy to remember and made her feel good. It was so hopeful and light - optimistic in nature and of many hidden origins, like a friend passing a secret along.

"The Sword," said Fairy Guan, referring undoubtedly to herself.

"The Sword of Hearts," corrected Feiyan.

Alice knew at that moment that Feiyan had stumbled upon a fundamental truth to the Fairy's story. If it weren't so rude to reach out and listen for that story - something Alice had been warned about too many times - she would have done so.

But while the bells of Tianbei tolled in their towers all around them with little whispers of qi connecting the proud stories of the city to the Sword of Hearts and her disciples, there was one more surprise.

"Zhu Feiyan," said the Eleventh Princess to the sky.

It was so presumptuous, and so like Feiyan to insert herself - by hook or crook - into the story of the world, into one of its longest surviving lines. But there was another story in there, a story that Alice couldn't help but smile at.

Feiyan had stopped David and Alice on the road, with a deep fear in her eyes, knowing that at any moment she would likely die. She'd nearly been assassinated for simply joining a sect.

David and Alice had both cultivated because it was interesting, it was magical, it was beautiful - in a world where they had no true place. The two of them respected long histories, well-made things, the art of another culture.

Feiyan's journey was desperate, it was scary, it was paved with hardship. Feiyan idolized and mythologized the stories of cultivators from every sect, hoping that one of them would save her. The Silkworms whispered a variation of that first line of the Skybound Scripture in Alice's mind.

Feiyan walked the plains, by light of sun and moon - to open the door, to make them her own.

And she'd found her door - she'd found her exit.

The compass that Feiyan held in her hands, fully forged in bright bronze, spun to a stop, pointing at the gap in the Heavens, the gap to the southeast. On this day, the Fall Equinox, the Silkworms whispered stories of tranquility, of mirrored reflections, of the flaws in the stars.

"Zhu Feiyan," agreed the Sword of Hearts.

Alice looked down at her own compass. The needle was pointing directly at Alice - of course it was. Alice hadn't been thinking about the Line of the Bells during its forging. Alice had been thinking about Alice - the things Alice liked, the places Alice had been, the people with which Alice wanted to go.

"So," said Fairy Guan. "You wish to name yourself as the most important of my students."

Feiyan fell to her knees - a sign of respect from someone who intended to be an inheriting disciple.

"The Line of the Bells has been presented to you as a boon. It is such - you will receive its power, you will receive its purpose. But it also has a long history of violence, of death, of disappointment, of failure."

Feiyan nodded hopefully.

"The Line of the Bells is also a millstone that will forever tie you to the city of Tianbei. It will make your ascension, far down the line, significantly more difficult - in many ways."

"Many?" asked Feiyan, because it was clear that the Fairy had expected some sort of question.

"You will be tied to the expectations of being a student. You will find it hard to Sever your earthly ties. You might find yourself opposed to your family."

Feiyan opened her mouth, something sudden and frantic in her eyes.

"You will receive tribulation from-"

A little sound escaped Feiyan's lips, almost involuntarily, cutting the Fairy off. Fairy Guan narrowed her eyes.

"This disciple apologizes for interrupting-" Feiyan all but squeaked.

"There is no need to apologize," said Fairy, who looked to be on the edge of something furious.

Feiyan shook her head frantically. 'When I entered the sect, I made a promise to you," she stuttered. Her lower lip quivered.

"I asked you if you would put your allegiances to the Ascending Sky before all others, whether it would be your family or previous masters," said Fairy Guan. Her words were carefree, but her eyes were sharp and searching.

Feiyan nodded.

"Are you having second thoughts?" There was a hint of steel in the silk of her voice.

Alice hoped, for Feiyan's sake, that the girl wasn't having second thoughts.

As a response, Feiyan thrust her cupped hands at the Fairy. They poorly concealed a little slip of paper that Alice recognized as the talisman the girl often bragged about.

Alice felt a flash of rage. Zhu Louli, the Fourth Princess, had tried to steal it from Feiyan - much in the same way the Sect Master had stolen the saber from Alice. If Fairy Guan hadn't interceded on Feiyan's behalf, there would be two disciples here standing before the Skyforge missing something important.

Alice grit her teeth.

"The Skybound Scripture reads that 'time is coincidence and worth is innate," said Feiyan, repeating the words that had been given to her by the Fairy when she had lit her lantern to join the sect. Her voice grew stronger as she grew in confidence. "As your student, I no longer need to lean on something like this. It belonged to someone in my mother's line, someone who's pierced the gates."

"Very well," said the Sword, taking the talisman from Feiyan's trembling fingers and slipping it into her robes. "You understand the gravity of this moment, then."

Feiyan nodded.

"Stand." The Sword waited until Feiyan had done so. "You are the student who I will take up to the tallest tower." Fairy Guan turned to Alice and the other two. "The rest of you are free to go. You may keep your compasses as souvenirs, or melt them down later to be formed into cultivation materials."

Feiyan preened, straightening her hair and beaming. "Feiyan is such a lucky girl!" she proclaimed.

The Sword gave her a pat on the head. "Should there come a day where you feel that a priceless artifact that only you can activate might be helpful, feel free to ask me to return it," she said, leading the girl away.

As they walked away from the Skyforge together, the Silkworms continued to whisper verses of the Skybound Scripture.

Rain will fall from the sky but the caged bird still strives to fly.

Alice sighed. For the first time, Alice wished she were Feiyan.

“The princess was definitely right. She’s luckier than anyone I know,” said Kanhu, chuckling. He had fully detached the needle from the base of his compass and was flipping it through the air. “Think I can drink out of this? It’s shaped like a cup, after all.”

Alice estimated that it would hold an ounce or two at most. The compass would make a curiously shaped shot glass.

“A cup of bronze?” said Alice. “There’s only one drink that’s appropriate for it.” She rolled it around in her fingers, thinking of David and that pretty girl at the jiulu in Ping’an. “Bronze is the oldest of metals - so it’s only fit for the oldest of wines.”

“And what would that be?” asked Kanhu, raising the empty cup to his lips. The light of dawn gleamed off the bronze.

“Sorghum,” said Alice. “We should go over to Earth Peak and see if we can get a pour of sorghum wine.”

“Disgusting,” said Leng Qitai. “I’m going home.”

“I’m inclined to agree with him,” drawled Kanhu. “I’ll see you later then, Sister Chow. I’m going to go out into the town and see if I can get a nice breakfast. Don’t drink away too much of your jealousy. You’ll need ambition to cultivate.”

Alice and Qitai walked silently along the thoroughfare that was the Skybound Path towards Earth Peak. There were many signs of the city waking up - horses being hitched to carriages, families bringing their meals out into their front gardens, and servants watering flower beds. Northern Tianbei was a prosperous neighborhood that loved the disciples of the Ascending Sky, so they got many waves.

When they finally got to the crossroad that split the entrance to Earth Peak with the path up the mountainside, Qitai spoke. “Are you really going to Earth Peak to drink? This early in the morning?”

Alice scowled. “It’s none of your business,” she snapped, then sighed. “No. I don’t think so. I’m just going to look for something to do. Maybe find some friendly faces.”

“No one gets to be special in every way,” said Qitai, changing tract so quickly it gave Alice whiplash. His jaw was set, his eyes were still and calm - he was determined to give her unsolicited advice. “Everyone understands the Dao in their own way. And you don’t cultivate the Skybound Scripture. It would be improper.”

“That’s true,” said Alice, fighting the urge to fold her arms and stomp through the entrance to Earth Peak in a huff.

“Find some work on the bulletin,” said Qitai. “The older disciples usually have something wise to say. And they’ve all run into struggles with their cultivation-”

“I’m not struggling with my cultivation,” protested Alice, even though all she could think of was the blood that welled from her throat, the blood that came from nowhere.

“Compared to someone like me, of course you aren’t. From the age of seven, my father has been feeding me poisons, preparing me to be the heir of the Leng family. Forcing my clan’s cultivation scripture on me.”

His tongue was sour and his palms were warm and his skin felt heavy-

“But the poison didn’t take - not really,” said Qitai. “It was still the greatest success of anyone in living memory. Most of us just die.”

He paused. “I don’t even know the names of most of my brothers, but it doesn’t matter to my father, because allegedly I am the chosen son of Heaven.” Qitai grimaced. “I was sent to cultivate at the best sect on the continent, with the hope that I would be the best there. I was so sure no one would have had the struggles and triumphs I had.”

There was something forlorn about his tone now. “But when I see the volume of knowledge from the princess, or the way the street urchin casually solves unanswered questions in my scripture,” he trailed off. “When Daoist Ji forms his core within the blink of an eye, when you complete lost words from forgotten sayings, I am left feeling inadequate too.”

Alice shrugged, uncomfortable.

“We all progress at our own pace, you’ll just need to find yours,” he said, turning up the mountain path. “Have a good morning.”

Alice frowned, and stepped into Earth Peak.