The descent from the high peaks was a disorienting symphony of sensation. After millennia of formless, silent existence, the physical world was an overwhelming assault. Seoryn felt the sharp, biting wind on her skin, a forgotten sting that was almost pleasant. The crisp scent of pine and damp earth filled her lungs with every breath, a fragrance so rich and complex it was nearly intoxicating. Most jarring was the simple, solid feeling of the ground beneath her feet—the crunch of gravel, the soft give of moss—each step a confirmation that she was, impossibly, alive and bound to the earth once more.
She followed the disciples in a detached silence, a ghost trailing in their wake. She observed their clumsy movements as they navigated the treacherous, winding path. They were not warriors. Their ki felt raw, tethered to the natural world like untamed vines. She identified the tell-tale signatures of wind and wood elemental magic, wielded with the unrefined enthusiasm of the young. In her time, such elemental affinity was but one component of a warrior's training, a foundation to be built upon with rigorous martial practice and the unyielding discipline of the blade. These disciples, it seemed, were far from that path. Their power was a wild garden, beautiful but untended.
Her mind, a vast and lonely place, drifted. Are they my best hope? They were weak, their language a butchered echo of the common tongue, and their leader, Jian, watched her with a poorly disguised suspicion that bordered on hostility. But they were also her only link to this new era, the first faces she had seen in twenty thousand years. They were a key, and she needed to understand the lock before she could open the door to this world. For now, she would play the part of the helpless, grateful survivor.
Their cautious trek was shattered by a guttural roar that ripped through the mountain stillness, a sound of pure, primal hunger. It echoed from the dense, dark woods flanking the path, and an instant later, a creature burst from the treeline. It was a monstrosity of matted, filthy fur and a chaotic arrangement of too many limbs, its six eyes burning with a rabid, red light. A Ridge-Claw, a vicious predator known for its ferocity and hide as tough as ironwood.
Raw panic erupted. Two of the younger disciples, who had been trailing at the back, had no time to even draw their weapons before the beast was upon them, its claws scything through the air with lethal, brutal force. Their screams were cut brutally short, a wet, gurgling sound that was swallowed by the vastness of the mountains.
"Formation!" Jian yelled, his face a mask of waxy, pale terror.
The remaining disciples scrambled to obey, their training taking over. Blades of compressed wind, sharp and green, flew from their hands, peppering the beast's flank but only succeeding in shearing away clumps of matted fur. Li Mei, her face set with determination, slammed her palms on the ground. Thick, thorny vines erupted from the earth, wrapping around the creature's legs, momentarily slowing its rampage.
Seoryn watched, her expression as still and unreadable as a frozen lake. A cold, swift calculus ran through her mind. She could flee. Her body was weak, but her spirit was a weapon they couldn't possibly comprehend. She could slip away into the shadows of the forest and leave them to their fate. But to what end? To be alone and ignorant in a world that had forgotten her? No. These children, for all their weakness, were her map.
The Ridge-Claw, enraged by the clinging vines, tore them apart with a contemptuous flex of its powerful limbs. It lunged, ignoring the others, its maw dripping with saliva as it aimed directly for Li Mei. The girl who had shown her a sliver of kindness. The one who had argued for her life.
A decision was made.
As the beast's claws were about to find their mark, Seoryn's sea-green eyes flashed, the color deepening as they began to glow with an intense, otherworldly purple light. She raised a hand, her palm open, and from it shot a concentrated beam of pure, violet energy. It wasn't elemental ki, born of the physical world. It was something far more primal, something other. It was the very essence of the spirit realm, a place of thought and soul, made manifest as a weapon.
Her mind flashed back to the endless eons spent in that parallel world. It was not an empty prison. It was a forge. She had not just meditated; she had mastered its very fabric, learning to integrate its strange, potent energies into her own soul until they became as much a part of her as her own blood. Other mages spent lifetimes learning to cautiously borrow power from the spirit realm; Seoryn had lived there, becoming a native. She had encountered the projected souls of "walkers" in her domain, observing them, sometimes offering cryptic guidance. And when she sensed the soul of one who belonged to the lineage of her people's destroyers, she had shown no mercy, devouring their spiritual essence without a trace. While her physical body had not advanced, her spirit had reached a realm of power she knew few could ever match.
The purple beam of energy struck the Ridge-Claw mid-lunge. There was no grand explosion, no sound of impact. There was only a silent, swift dissipation of force, as if the very concept of the beast's existence was being unwritten. Its rabid eyes went vacant, the light within them extinguished. Its massive body, suddenly inert, collapsed to the ground, dead before it hit the forest floor.
A stunned, ringing silence fell over the surviving disciples. They stared, mouths agape, first at the dead beast, then at Seoryn, who stood calmly amidst the carnage, the violet light fading from her eyes.
Ignoring their shocked gazes, Seoryn walked to the corpse. To her spirit-sight, the air around the beast shimmered with its residual soul energy, a faint, ethereal mist invisible to the others. Placing a hand on its flank, she closed her eyes and began to absorb that energy, drawing the raw, nourishing power into her own meridians. It was a meager meal, a drop of rain in a vast desert, but it was a start. The nourishment would help strengthen her physical form, accelerating her recovery from the long stasis.
She opened her eyes as the last wisp of energy flowed into her. The nourishment settled within her, a welcome warmth spreading through her limbs. She turned to face the disciples. They stared back, their faces a mural of shock and terror. Jian, who had been so bold, now looked at her as if she were the monster. Min was pale and trembling, while Li Mei's wide eyes held a new, profound awe that eclipsed her fear.
The silence was broken by a choked sob from Min, who stumbled towards the spot where his fellow disciples had fallen. The reality of their deaths crashed down upon the survivors. Jian, shaking himself from his stupor, directed them in the grim task of collecting the bodies of their fallen comrades, wrapping them in spare robes for the journey home.
Throughout the process, they spoke in hushed, frantic tones. Seoryn remained apart, granting them space for their grief but listening intently. She couldn't grasp the full conversation, but the same words kept surfacing: 'monster,' 'spirit power,' 'impossible,' and the name of their sect. Their fear was a tangible thing, but beneath it, she sensed a thread of desperate hope. They were out of their depth, and she was their only lifeline back to safety.
After the grim task was complete, Li Mei approached her, bowing low, a gesture of deep respect and fear.
"Thank... you," she said, her voice trembling as she struggled with the broken common tongue. "We... leave mountains soon. Go to... sect." She pointed down the path, towards the lower elevations.
Seoryn gave a slow, deliberate nod. Their ordeal in the high peaks was ending.
They continued their descent, the mood now somber and tense. The previous fear of the wilderness had been replaced by a new fear, one directed entirely at the silent woman in their midst.
It was another half day before the terrain finally flattened, the oppressive, jagged rocks giving way to rolling foothills and dense forests. As they cleared a final ridge, the world opened up before them. A great valley, lush and green, stretched to the horizon. Nestled in its center was a city, its walls a protective ring around a dense collection of buildings. It was small by the standards of her memory, a place she might have guessed held no more than a million mortals. A few towering pagodas rose above the city's rooftops, their elegant forms a clear sign of cultivator presence.
This, she knew, was their destination. The home of the Serene Cloud Sect. And the first stepping stone into a world that was no longer hers.