Meditate on the nature of the transformations of your Self.

It was cold. Fur or not, his people had been built for the steamy equatorial jungles of Refuge, not the far north of Ca Cao. The cold seeped into him from every direction, settling through his short fur and scraping against his bones with every gust of wind, touch of ice, snowflakes— all awhirl across the field as the heavens loomed livid overhead.

Chart the course of your Path beneath the illumination of your Intent.

Lily’s fight had been just as over the top dramatic and impressive as she’d promised it would be, and Avyr… he wasn’t sure if he could live up to that. As the wind slowly smoothed over the grand rune-work she’d drawn out across the ground, as he knew— it was his turn— he stood at the edge of Mingtian’s formation and studied his enemy, looking— searching, gaze piercing, dredging for any hope of victory.

He found none.

Only then will you be ready.

This was important. It wasn’t as important as the final test of the Academy, but the disciple of the Bloody Saffron Sect was still watching, her blank gaze all consuming as it fixed on the two of them— waiting. This test was the first step, a brick on the way, a forecast future— of whether or not he was worthy, but perhaps more importantly, of his path.

He had left so much behind, to come here, step by step advancing, always— and he refused to fail now.

He stepped into the ring.

Unlike Lily’s match, there was no dramatics, no high emotional banter— the two of them circled in silence. Young Master Qin Xinshi focused intently on his each and every movement as he took slow steps around the circumference of the formation… but Ai’er Avyr stalked, each movement replete with the grace of his people.

It was no dense jungle, awash sound and riotous color, but a cat never stopped being a cat. His heritage was indivisible from him. He’d been thinking about that a lot lately… had been thinking a lot lately, with Mingtian’s directive—

Himself. His Self. What a strange and nebulous thing. Was he Avyr, of Ai’er Avyr, or friend, or ascendent— or any other of a million things he’d been called or had called, or sought— uncountable, as the stars in the sky. He didn’t know… but he did know, though, that he was a cat.

That, at least, was simple enough.

He leapt forward with a sudden leap, his qi snapping sharply to the speed-enhancing talismans he’d stuck to his feet. Maw open wide, sharp claws flashing— Xinshi barely had a moment to backpedaled in surprise before he was on him, his front paws enhanced with all the strength of his cultivation carving a furrow deep into his flesh.

But Xinshi was not called Young Master for nothing, and even as Avyr reached down to bite out his throat, a burst of force erupted out of a talisman— no, out of his clothes— throwing the entire bulk of Avyr back. The two skidded apart, Xinshi bleeding from gashes in his arm and chest, and Avyr himself smarting quite a bit from the force of his shield.

Xinshi breathed out, resting a hand in a pouch to his side— meeting his gaze, those so human eyes settling for a single instant, an ageless moment on his own. Then he threw out a handful of formation tags, and the battle got real.

A bolt of lightning sizzled through the air, narrowly missing him as Avyr redirected it to the side with a burst of qi. Then, again— keeping his distance from him with a barrage of crackling lightning bolts, each one needing his full focus to deflect—

That was fine. That was fine

, he told himself, lied to himself, just waiting for an opening to pounce—

There. A slight break in the pattern, as Xinshi fumbled his retrieval. Avyr leapt to the side and funneled his qi into the talismans Lily had given him, pulsing wide and then contracting— the sort of qi manipulation that any Shedding cultivator would find difficult.

Except—

Beneath the affect of Lily’s talisman formation, it wasn’t merely qi.

Except—

Xinshi hadn’t fumbled at all.

Instead of a bolt of lightning, a wave of fire burst out towards him— and was swamped by the enormous sphere of water and snow and blood that contracted down around Xinshi. An icy prison— a great and terrible blow—

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For a moment, he even thought he’d won.

Then— the sphere of crushing ice shimmered and exploded outwards, the formations on Xinshi’s outer robe smoking and sputtering after being overloaded. The Young Master took a second to catch his breath, panting— grinning. “That… that was good—” and before he could say any more, even exhausted himself, Avyr was sprinting forward to deliver the sort of crushing blow that could end it—

Xinshi drew his sword.

The world slowed.

As his qi burned like so much kindling, as he pushed the last vestiges of his self, burning— down together, each of them striving with the fullness of their intent to win, he saw it. The whole atmosphere of the ring changed as Xinshi finally drew the blade he’d been carrying the entire time— a thing of white jade, inscribed with dizzyingly complex formations that burned to his qi sense, the whole world for a moment singing—

Cut. Cut cut cut cutucutcutcutcutcut— that was not a Shedding-level blade.

Then he was cut.

Pain.

Agony. It was the worst agony he’d ever felt in his entire life. More than the time he’d fallen off the top of a tree and broken one of his legs, more than the time he’d been kicked by a cultivator in the evacuation of Fenfeng, more than even the last sight of his parents, tearfully telling him to flee—

It was a blinding, burning, white hot agony, as it sliced through his flank, severing

him, severing something deeper than him— but he refused. He refused! In the heat of the moment, when all thoughts of step by, step forward, careful advancement fled his mind, he dove into the burning core of it—

That great resiliency—

That hope—

That desperation, Lily’s desperation, that refusal to ever stop— for once he drew on that, and despite the soul-deep pain he threw himself forward and bit down—

And tore.

And— the taste of hot blood exploded into his mouth for a second before the pain became overwhelming. Everything after that was a mix of insensate sensation, burning pain and strange qi, something sticky like blood and crunchy like bone being forced into his mouth and noise. So much noise. Why were they being so loud anyways?

When he finally came to, he was lying on the snow outside of the Unwobbling Jade Top formation, fur soaked through with his own blood. Everything ached. He tried to stand, only for a hand— a mortal hand— to gently prevent him from getting up. That he was so weak as to be restrained by that really spoke to how injured he’d been.

He mustered his strength, and asked the only question that really mattered— “did I… win?”

Mingtian gave him a soft, sad smile, and shook his head. “Close, but not quite.” For a moment a wave of irrational anger flashed through him, but— no, that was foolish. Xinshi had his advantages, and he had his own. His loss was his own.

At least, that’s what he told himself. “The blade… what was that?” It helped push back the agonizing sense of unfairness. He wasn’t supposed to lose. Why had he lost? He’d tried so hard…

Mingtian ran a hand through his fur, careful of his injuries— somehow managing to get all the best spots, too. “It can be embittering, can’t it? The feeling of putting your all towards something and still falling short…” something heavy grew in Avyr’s chest; he could not speak. “You’ve made me proud with your effort. You’ve come a long way— of all the Shedding cultivators in East Saffron, you might be one of the strongest already.” But Shedding wasn’t supposed to be the end of his path— “but Shedding isn’t the end of your path,” said Mingtian so simply, as though he’d read his mind. “Keep that in mind as you chart your future course. One day, a cheap blow with a foundation-establishment heirloom blade won’t be enough to even scratch you. And that day, when you stride through the stars, you’ll look back on this moment, and reminisce fondly not on the victory that paved your path, but on the defeat that emboldened it.”

It hurt. He let it hurt, not physically— though his body still protested, but something deeper than that. Emotionally. His chest ached, his legs ached, the slash in his flank, even sealed up as it clearly was, hurt. “How? I tried so hard… to figure it out. What you told me all that time ago. Except I… I don’t know what it means, Mingtian.” Who was he? What was he? “If I don’t even know myself, then how can I choose a path?”

For a moment, Mingtian was silent… before, quietly he laughed. “You’re looking way too deep into that. It’s good that you are! Don’t mistake me— to probe the true meaning of Self and everything that means, of the great implication of belief, of history and future and… to chart that to your path and your path to that, those are the sorts of questions that you should never stop asking yourself as you advance.” He smiled wryly— “but that’s not what I meant when I gave you that note… what was it, three months ago? Think about it. If you want to advance… then you need to choose a path to advance on. And right now,to choose a path, the crux of it is simply— what do you want?”

Avyr blinked. It couldn’t be that simple. It couldn’t. He’d spent so much time agonizing over it all and now, here, just a single question later…

It hurt. It hurt so bad, but he laughed anyways, despite the sharp pain in his chest, feeling so very free.