The Precipice of Power

11 - A Final Farewell

Lightning descended from hundreds of different points, striking in a single, blinding wave.

Kiro desperately closed his eyes, but the vision continued inside his eyelids. This was the foundation of the Huang Clan — mercenaries, set upon his ancestors by their own matriarch. 'Weeding out the weak', Hong Ma had called it. Hong Ma, the same matriarch that had ensured that he would be forbidden from using mana. The same matriarch that had, centuries ago, acquired the entire population of Paradise via torture.

Bile rose in his throat, and the instinctive reaction of his body snapped him from the scene. That woman, that monster he had seen, was the same matriarch that his clan followed. The same matriarch that thousands of unknowing captives worshipped. The same matriarch that he had worshipped.

He emptied the contents of his stomach onto the grass in front of him, clutching onto the silver tree for support. His clan, his family, everything he had ever known, were for a twisted experiment?

And Seira hadn't even told him.

He snatched the piece of jade in sweat-drenched palms, making sure to put the sleeve of his robe between the glowing runes and his skin. He felt like a leaf caught in a firestorm.

What would he do? What could he do?

Escape. He needed to escape. He forced his quivering legs into a run, sprinting back to the clan faster than he had ever run before. His foot caught an exposed root, crashing him face-first into the dirt, but he pushed himself back up in an instant. He needed advice.

* * *

Kiro crashed into the door to Meng's house, knocking frantically. "Supervisor Meng!"

"Huh? Who's there?" A sleepy voice came from within, followed by shuffling steps.

"I apologise for bothering you so early, but... please, I need..."

"Kiro?" The steps quickened, and the supervisor opened the door, nightgown still on and concern etched on his face. "My boy, what happened? Please, come in. Come in. I'll make you some tea."

Kiro nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The two stepped inside, and Meng brought out a teakettle, shooting a wisp of fire into his stove.

"Calm, Kiro. Calm. Everything's okay."

For a few minutes, they just sat in silence, waiting for the water to come to a boil and for Kiro to stop shaking. An assortment of herbs went in, and with a spark of gratitude, he recognized that some of them were more than just tea leaves.

The old man handed him a cup, sitting across from him. "Now, what did you wish to talk to me about?"

Kiro took a grateful sip, cradling the hot liquid and letting the effects of the added alchemical herbs untie the knot in his throat. Did he know? What could he say?

A thousand different things popped into his mind, but in the end, he focused on the thing that tore him apart the most. Seira was planning on leaving without him, but after learning what the matriarch planned to do, could he blame her?

"Supervisor, what advice would you give to... a fish, who lives in a poisoned lake?"

The old man stroked his beard, bringing his own cup to his lips. "Well, I suppose I would tell this fish to grab those close to it and swim away. There is no benefit in staying trapped in such an environment."

Kiro swallowed. "And if there is no river to escape from?"

"Every lake's water must come from somewhere. The fish must simply wait for a path to present itself in the rain."