Sou Yuet linked their fingers into the necromancer’s.

  Hand in hand, they walked together out of Rigani’s hut. Silently, the Hunters let them pass, then fell in behind them, and soon they were trailing a huge shadow of the hunting dead.

  Rigani was nowhere to be seen.

  The necromancer did not look for her. They tightened their grip on Sou Yuet’s fingers, eyes as deep green as a pine in winter, focused on the invisible horizon between this realm and the next.

  The silent procession walked out of Rigani’s meadows, into the grey of the world. A faint rain was falling; by the time they reached the cave, they were all drenched by the interminable drizzle.

  The entrance of the cave was a small horizontal slot into the side of a green hill. Huge blocks of grey limestone formed the narrow doorway. In order to enter, one would have to lie on their stomach and wriggle through, or squeeze in feet first.

  The necromancer’s fingers were so cold.

  At the sight of the dark entrance, a shudder ran through the Hunt. The necromancer called back to them over their shoulder, “Stay here.”

  “You too,” they added to Sou Yuet. “Mam’s right. This is no place for ye.”

  Sou Yuet smiled politely. “Hm?”

  “Yuet, I’m serious. Let go now.” The necromancer tried to pry their fingers from Sou Yuet’s and realised they couldn’t break the cultivator’s grip. “Oi. Don’t show off how strong ye are.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yuet, this isn’t a laugh. This place is…” The necromancer shivered, and had to swallow back the urge to retch.

  “… not somewhere you should be alone.”

  “Ye can’t come with me this time, Yuet.”

  Sou Yuet looked at the necromancer gently, and said, “Yes, I can.”

  The necromancer’s tongue was heavy, like a cold coin lay upon it.

  “I’ll go first.”

  “No!” The necromancer’s tongue loosened. “Ye… I’ll go first. I have to go first.”

  They said that, but turning back to the claustrophobic mouth of the cave made their legs weak. They were tall and strong and they were a child again before that narrow void.

  The Hunt drew nearer, hesitant, fearful, but determined.

  Hands shaking, the necromancer reached for the entrance, and slid their legs within.

  The cold grasped them instantly.

  Warmth pressed on their shoulders.

  “I’m here,” said Sou Yuet, squeezing with their hands.

  The necromancer breathed deep, and plunged inside.

  They shrank instantly in the near pitch-black darkness, unable to breathe, and something grabbed them from behind, held them with a tight grip that made them want to howl –

  “I’m here.”

  “Yuet! Yuet…” The necromancer was breathing again. The air in the cave was cold, tearing at their lungs with each anxious breath.

  You brought a friend?

  Relief froze into a knife in the necromancer’s chest. “Yuet, get out. Get out now!”

  FRIEND

  Not Friend

  more than friend

  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

  Sou Yuet leaned in the necromancer, strong as a tree.

  “Ye have something of mine,” the necromancer said, gritting their teeth against the cold. “I’ve come to take it back.”

  Us? We have nothing.

  nothing

  nothing

  We are Nothing. We Have Nothing.

  You are nothing.

  The necromancer shivered again. Sou Yuet’s face was buried against their back, trembling.

  You have brought your lover to die.

  USELESS

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  “I came here of my own choice,” Sou Yuet said quietly, but clearly.

  You will die.

  “Oh well. I’ve never died before. That sounds interesting.”

  “Well?” the necromancer demanded into the darkness. “Give it back to me.”

  To take, you must give.

  “So ye can take from me without giving anything in return, is it, ye bastards?”

  We gave.

  GAVE YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH

  For the first time, Sou Yuet’s grip loosened, ever so slightly.

  The necromancer clapped their hands over the monk’s, breath growing shallow. “What else can I give ye?”

  The darkness shifted, focused on the hands clasped around the necromancer’s chest –

  “No. Ye’ll never have them.”

  GIVE GIVE GIVE

  give us your heart

  “No.”

  The pressing darkness fell away, and a single voice rang hollow.

  You have hidden. We will take away your ability to hide.

  “What the feck does that mean?”

  Exactly as it sounds.

  Sou Yuet slipped down the necromancer’s back.

  “Yuet!”

  Well?

  The necromancer lifted the monk into their arms.

  “You don’t need to hide anymore,” Sou Yuet whispered. Green phosphorescence flickered in their eyes. It was the only light in that deep darkness.

  “Then take it,” the necromancer growled to the shadow. “Take it and be damned.”

  Instantly, something tore, like the very skin was being stripped from their body. They reflexively curled around Sou Yuet, ears filled with a high, keening wail. The sound of loss. The sound of death.

  The cave was collapsing around them. They would die there in the darkness.

  Together.

  “I’m here,” Sou Yuet said, a third time, faint as hope in the dark.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let ye come with me.”

  “I would have found a way.”

  “It’s almost over. Hold on.”

  “Help me.” Sou Yuet took the necromancer’s hands, cupping them around their face. Closing their eyes, they said, “Teach me. Growth and decay are the two faces of life. Show me what it means to wither, so that I may heal.”

  The necromancer felt the fingers that cradled Sou Yuet’s face begin to tingle with an energy that felt both achingly familiar and terrifyingly foreign at once.

  The fresh scent of trodden grass. The tart juice of an apple. The featherlight susurrus of a dandelion seed.

  Their fingers tightened on each other’s.

  Sou Yuet felt the thousand tiny pricks of thorns, the slow whispers of a fruit pulled apart by fungal threads, the earthen sadness of the stump’s rotting heartwood.

  The cave was gone. The world fell away. The molecules of each and every living thing around them were torn down and rebuilt, piece by piece, over and over. Sou Yuet couldn’t feel the necromancer’s hands anymore. They dissolved and reformed, together and alone, tossed like a leaf on the currents of time.

  A memory:

  “What are Tribulations like, Master?”

  “It’s somewhat different for everyone. I barely even noticed my first one. I was deeply engrossed reading in the Mount Faa library when it happened.” In this memory, Yuan Mu’s white hair was still shot with black, and his black and gold eyes were as sharp as always. “I had a sudden realisation, you know, and next thing, lightning struck the library. Everyone was panicking, trying to save the books from burning.”

  Sou Yuet, a child then, their head just about brushing Yuan Mu’s elbow, blinked. “Didn’t you feel the lightning, Master?”

  “Not especially. Remember, child, I am first and foremost an Earth cultivator. Being struck by lightning might singe me a little, but that’s all.”

  The child Sou Yuet thought privately that being an Earth cultivator had little to do with it, and that it was simply because Master was Master, but said nothing.

  “It will be harder for you,” Yuan Mu said softly, his brow creasing with concern. “We must prepare you well for you Lightning Tribulation. At least, as much as one can prepare for a sudden bolt.”

  “Is there no way to avoid it, Master?”

  “Of course there is. Simply stop cultivating. You can, you know. So many expectations have been placed on you from a young age. I could tell, from the day I met you, that you have everything that a direct disciple of one of the World Guardians needs. The talent, the form, the latent spiritual energy. But the task was given to me to teach you and raise you. The one you should really be learning from, the Azure Dragon of the East, she abandoned the mortal realm. By doing so, she abandoned her say in how you were to be nurtured.

  “When I was younger, I had a friend who worked her hardest to be recognised as a direct disciple. She did it, eventually, but by that time, she had lost many things, including the person who was dearest to her. In the end, at least, being a direct disciple allowed her to Ascend and leave behind the Mortal Realm that brought her so much pain.”

  Unconsciously, his sturdy fingers tapped at the hilt of the small dagger in his belt. It looked toy-like against his strong frame, but Sou Yuet could sense the fire within it.

  “To unlock your Second and Third Dantian, you must undergo Tribulations. And of course, in Ascending, you must undertake the greatest Tribulation. True strength cannot be gathered without hard work, and not a little suffering, Ah Yuet.”

  “Did you suffer through your Second Tribulation, Master? The Storm Tribulation?”

  Yuan Mu considered his cup of Long Jing tea thoughtfully, as though seeking the answer in the golden drink. “When one says ‘storm’, they refer to the rain and the clouds that come with it, of course, but above all, they mean the storm in the mind. It is a Tribulation to become lost in, little Yuet. Where moving your spiritual energy from your First to your Second Dantian for the first time comes like a bolt of lightning, from Second to Third is a sense of uneasiness and chaos. It’s not simply gaining more power, it’s a loss too, a loss of humanity. You question yourself and your values. Am I still human if I can live forever? Can I claim kinship with the ordinary person who must struggle to roll a boulder when I can crush it to dust with a single blow? Are we still of one kind?

  “You begin to grasp the form of the world, how it is comprised, how little and how much everything matters. It is easy to fall into a hei deviation here, Ah Yuet. You are human, and yet not, and if you cannot reconcile your mortal mind with the secrets of creation that you begin to see… it is easy to lose your way.”

  Sou Yuet was in that memory and outside of it. Their lungs were filled with rain, even though they had passed their Storm Tribulation long ago. They could hear a howling wind picking up around them. Would the necromancer be safe? Should they stop? They were teetering on the edge, and if they opened their eyes, the vast knowledge of eternity would be open before them, and they would either Ascend, or die.

  For the necromancer, they could feel the potential below their hands. Even as the wind was picking up around the two of them, their gaze remained on Sou Yuet’s face, marvelling as human urgently raced towards divine. They pressed their forehead to Sou Yuet’s, watching the cultivator’s eyelashes tremble as though they were dreaming.

  The necromancer breathed deep and easy. The tattoos writhed. In their black robes, in their black hair, in the shadows, deeper shadows moved, languorous, silent. There was no hiding who they were, now.

  The witch chuckled, low. “Not like this. No-one could look at me now and think me human.” Leaf-green eyes found Sou Yuet’s. “Yuet? Say something, damn ye.”

  Sou Yuet’s dark eyes were filled with green lights and wonder, teetering on the brink. Their heart and mind was filled with rain, and would be until the day they were finally ready to let go of everything.

  For now, there were still stories left untold, promises left unfulfilled.

  But the day of leaving was not far away.

  They left the cave together.