FAKE ASCENDING.
Frozen boats lined the shore, their guides sitting silently, eyes fixed on a distant point. These boatmen served their punishment, atoning for their misdeeds. But sailing along the river had become impossible.
From time to time later, they led souls across the ice—those destined for enlightenment in the heavenly kingdom. Yet shadows emerged, attacking future celestials, devouring them. Timid attempts ceased.
Then came the barrier—a common trap. Demons couldn't drag souls away; celestials lost their way home. The boatmen despaired of atonement. Souls piled up, delighting the shadows.
And here, amid the hubbub, a thin voice pleaded:
"I can't believe we're stuck here with all these souls! If only I'd known my shift would become an eternity of torment…"
"Stop howling," another voice snapped. "Most celestials are carousing with mortals, leaving us to deal with just this scum."
"What's good about that?" The thin-voiced one retorted. "We're stuck with souls who can neither return nor disappear! I curse the God who had the audacity and strength for such a barrier, but no strength fighting the shadows!"
"Do you think so?" Sharp laughter interrupted the whining.
"Yes," the thin-voiced one affirmed.
"Nah, nah, nah! Whoever set up the barrier didn't consider the little souls. But the Heavenly Kingdom only! Because, once the shadows find a way, it's over!"
"Why?" Perplexed, the thin-voiced one asked.
"Because even shadows don't want these worthless souls," the other explained. "But a celestial's power can strengthen them."
"Don't go on. What kind of fabrications!" The thin-voiced one squirmed.
"You again?!" Recognition colored his cry. Two figures in blue robes immediately emerged from a boat, eyeing the guest—clearly not mortal.
"This isn't the first time," they said. "You won't ascend yet!"
"The Gods mock today? What do you mean I won't ascend? Do you think I come here willingly every night? Wishing for ascending?"
"No?" The thin-voiced one asked.
"Heaven's wrath upon your lineage! Of
course not," the other replied. "I'd rather spend the night with beauty or wine, than stare at you!"
"Well, don't stare. Go back where you came from, bastard!"
"Cool down," His companion tried. "You seem nervous today."
"Because I'm fed up with it all!" The thin-voiced one cried, stepping back into the boat.
"Better, tell me, my friend" the logical one began, "do you know why you're here? It's not the first time you've been far away from your mortal body."
"I don't know. Perhaps, someone want my spirit wander lost!" the guest replied taking a pause; then continued. "I only know the monk once predicted I might have the power needed by the Heavens one day. Better not, because apart from your sour faces and the growing pile of scum, I don't see anything good from his predictions."
"You won't ascend soon," was definitely not the best message to receive, but a sudden advice made things better. "But as to an old friend, I suggest returning to the monk. Clarify your power and whatever he meant. Perhaps it'll grant you more time on your own pleasure without coming here."
The guest scoffed. "May your silk ignite! Do
you think I willingly drag myself to you every night? To what? Ascend? Like, I wait to fall asleep and then admire you?! What bad luck hell bestowed upon me!"
"Shut him back to mortals," the thin-voiced one whined. "My head is splitting from him."
"I can't," the logical one replied "Look, spectators are gathering. What then?"
"If you don't shut him up," the thin-voiced one threatened, "I'll incinerate him!"
"Stop!" The guest intervened, lowering the thin-voiced one's hands. "I'm not that trash as you think of me. But same as you, I also find our interaction unpleasant. So, I'll go on my own!"
The guest grinned, waited a bit, then stepped aside, whispered something under his breath, and covered himself in light, disappearing.
"May your ancestors' spirits haunt your dreams!" Was the only curse heard after him.
"He thinks we'r enjoining our tea here, or what?! Scum!" The thin-voiced one just muttered.
*Thx for reading.