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waxing crescent
memories of the past come back to him in dreamscapes.
a little boy sits in front of a waiting, expectant audience. his teachers have told him it is time for him to show off his powers to the preceptors. today is a big, important day.
upon a small throne of a chair, he shows them but little tricks. swirling water out of a teacup. turning the water hot, turning it cold. conjures a companion of a bird in his hands. it transforms into a dragon.
all this leaves a good impression. for such a young age, these little tricks are feats. and with no tools too.
but it is not enough for dan feng.
suddenly, he crushes his creation in his fist. the preceptors keep watch as he gets up from his seat. the sky darkens. the rumbling of incoming rain fills the horizon. storm clouds hang heavy in the sky.
“i have not shown you my power,” the little boy says, the beginnings of a boastful tone edging his voice. “watch.”
it rains.
pours, even. slowly at first, then stronger. he waves his hands as if a conductor to an orchestra. the rain follows.
the sudden downpour causes a strong breeze to come through the window. it brings the rain inside. the little boy laughs as the preceptors get splattered by rain of his own design. his face is damp with rainwater.
“look at what i can do, xianzhou luofu!” he exclaims. “i will turn you upside down!”
the dreams vision shrinks. dan feng looks down at the world from his impenetrable jade tower, hidden away from the ever-rainy skies. at the bottom, looking upward, is dan heng, feet in the murky waters, the hem of his pants soaked from the drizzle.
which one of them learns to dance in the rain?
first quarter
memories of the past come back to him in dreamscapes.
there, he sees a teenage boy with his legs swung over outside a window of a beautiful building by the sea. a scroll and drying ink lay ignored on a desk inside.
there is, in fact, the vidyadhara equivalent of being a teenager. living for hundreds of years does not make a species immune from the curse of a child’s search for independence.
“why do i have to study all this,” he says, as if idly conversing with the sea. “they say i was born special and different from everyone ever before, and yet…”
it does not take long for dan feng to tire of idling. disobedience follows. he walks down the vidyadhara halls and sees the portraits of previous high elders hung up on the walls. did they have to do all this too? and so what, when he was better than all of them combined?
the scene makes dan heng think of how sometimes he looks in the mirror and sees someone else. he supposes dan feng might have felt the same at first. he grazes his hand over his jaw, the curve of his familiar face.
how much of this face is not his?
before dan heng wakes up, dan feng slides open the gate of the residence. the young teen looks around before slipping out of the compound. the only sound that follows is his laughter when he gets far enough out.
maybe the urge to run away is something dan heng had gotten from his previous incarnation.
waxing gibbous
memories of the past come back to him in dreamscapes.
there’s a gathering of friends. food and drink pour endlessly at the table. there is only so much time to celebrate feeble victories; aeons know the next time they will be sent off to war. they make the most out of their downtime.
“why the long face, imbibitor lunae?” the playful lilt of a familiar voice cutting through dan feng’s haze. “something on your mind?”
“that you will be a menace tomorrow when you wake, baiheng,” he says. still, his low baritone is tender with concern. “tolerating alcohol has never been your strongest suit.”
“now, now, no need to be a killjoy,” she laughs. “see, jingliu is letting loose, too.”
“don’t make me your unwitting accomplice,” the swordswoman responds. “i’m here to set an example to our soon-to-be general.”
“you think yourself an adequate role model for jing yuan? of all people?” the craftsman laughs. turns to his side to pour more alcohol into dan feng’s cup. how long had it been empty before he filled it?
“careful with your mouth, yingxing,” dan feng warns, though amused.
“now, you’re all ideal examples, no use for bickering,” the cloud knight finally says, grinning. “let us focus on celebrations, instead.”
rowdy laughter fills the room.
he knows his companions are brave warriors few can topple. that the test of conflicts have proven them strong, and capable of many great feats. most importantly, their hearts are solid gold. but even like this, dan feng’s “family” feels as fragile as paper dolls.
when would they be taken from him—by war, by time, by inevitable destruction?
dan heng already knows the answer to that.
in turn, his thoughts float back to the astral express, which found him before he went looking. the cool floor of the archives, pom-pom’s breakfast menu, the radio playing in the parlor car.
dan feng and dan heng know the shape of an undying, everlasting loneliness.
they hold it differently.
full moon
memories of the past come back to him in dreamscapes.
the sedition of imbibitor lunae is a nightmare of blood and hoarse screaming. even now, the images are hazy in dan heng’s mind, never coming in completely. at first, there are the dead; then there are flashes of light; begging, crying, pleading; the sound of a sword drawn from its sheath; the squelch of torn flesh.
when the darkness comes—that, at least, dan heng is somewhat familiar with. the desolate gloom of the shackling prison. dracotena chains he cannot see, only feel around his wrists. where dan feng’s memory ends and his begins, he is not entirely sure. the voice he hears sounds like himself, but at the same time not at all.
“...let me forget…” a cry. “don’t…”
here, the dreams end. dan heng wakes up wondering what dan feng had meant, in those final moments.
waning gibbous
memories of the past come back to him in dreamscapes.
the sound of the general’s voice reading a sentence that does not belong to him, and yet does.
a dream within a memory in a dream. dan heng sees himself sent away with naught but meagre items and foggy memories. the incarnation of a king brought down to his knees. the world arrives on dan feng’s doorstep in gold and silver platters, exquisitely arranged. nothing left to want, and yet without excess.
on the other hand, dan heng steps out of the luofu with his hands empty. hungry, in more ways he can count.
the dreams of dan feng’s broken pleas rise up once more in dan heng’s mind. to remember and to forget, to desire and to forsake—are they not the same things? perhaps dan heng’s yearning bears similar pangs and aches. dan heng relishes every accomplishment. says thanks for every achievement.
at the end of it, did dan feng taste satisfaction over what he’d done, even for a moment?
for a selfish second, dan heng wonders what it’d be like to grasp what he wants the way dan feng had.
third quarter
dan heng clenches his fist as he lets what had long been chasing him to catch up. something bitter rises in his throat at the mere sight of the xianzhou luofu from the express.
when he steps foot once again on the ship, dan feng’s past surges through him like the entire luofu is but a dreamscape. every corner holds hidden history that digs fangs into him despite not being his.
but he has to find his friends.
the young cloud knight guides them through the winding avenues of the city outskirts. they pass through empty paths, shifting mechanisms. here, dan heng realizes just how little of the xianzhou he had actually ever seen. in solitude, he read its history top to bottom; read about its culture; studied its laws. but to behold his homeworld with his eyes, this was all for the first time.
something stings. his “homeworld”...
what does that mean?
dan heng cuts through the alchemy commission, slipping out of the cloud knights’ watchful eyes. thankful for no hint of recognition. even before he takes the starskiff, he begins to touch memories.
the sea that separates scalegorge waterscape from the rest of the luofu feels as ancient as the dragon he keeps within. in some way, it feels like he is returning.
but it does not feel like a homecoming.
waning crescent
memories of the past come to him in surges of power.
like dan feng is a sleeping dragon slowly awakening in his chest. whatever “that man” had roused in him from its slumber now begins to sink its claws into dan heng’s very existence.
what neither of them expected… was for dan heng to learn how to tame it.
he forces it to sit, to sink into obedience. dan heng keeps a steady hand over the dragon’s head until he persuades it into stillness.
the more dan heng faces it, the less the dragon resists.
like they are both coming to an understanding.
sometimes, dan heng’s fellow nameless catches him meditating in the archives, afloat in mid-air. they know better than to interrupt, and decide to seek dan heng later.
still, they sometimes stare.
his teal horns, his long tail, parts of him he’d long hidden before. borrowed draconic features passed on from high elder to high elder. these parts of him, he had surely gotten from dan feng.
in the darkness where he meditates, dan heng often faces dan feng like a mirror image. when dan heng asks him what he’d done—what to do now—who are they both, dan feng only points to dan heng’s chest where his heart lies.
maybe, dan feng’s spirit is in there.
but he is not dan heng in as much as he is not his eyes or hands. dan heng is the sum of all his parts.
and if his previous incarnation is there, then so be it.
new moon
the future comes to him wide awake.
there, he sees a young man. he’s packing to leave xianzhou luofu, where he’d had errands to run. each street and store is familiar. not in the way a ghost haunts, but the quiet sureness of consistency.
all remains as it did yesterday.
outside, the xianzhou’s artificial sun is setting. it makes his form cast long shadows on the ground below. his figure bathed in its orange-red glow.
the light surrounds him.
but the xianzhou sun is just another sun, its moon just another moon.
there are more out there to cast its glow on him.
the sound of his companions’ voices bring him out of his reverie.
“come on, dan heng! we don’t want pom-pom warping without you!”
a small, confident smile rises on his face.
“yes, i’m coming.”