Conversation With The Divine

Stoking the fire, Delilah glanced over her shoulder toward the doorway to the pits—a dark abyss, a gate to the End. If the gates of hell looked like anything, surely they would look like this.

The crackle of twigs underfoot made her turn. Little Marcus emerged from the tree line, arms full of sticks.

Aziz had been calling him "Little" for over a month now, and Delilah had grown used to it, too. Marcus didn't seem to mind. After all, it was better than how both of them had been treated in Peklo Forest.

"That's it for today. This should keep the fire going through the night."

Marcus dropped the pile of sticks with a huff beside their makeshift wooden tent, tossing a few more onto the fire.

As he tended to it, he noticed Delilah staring into the tunnel that led to the pits' black depths. He tapped her shoulder and began signing to her.

'Stop worrying so much. He'll come out when he's ready.'

Delilah offered a small smile. "It's been a week, Marc. I can't help but worry. Ghost hasn't said a word, and we haven't seen him in so long."

The name Ghost had stuck. It was a name spreading through Peklo Forest. Every now and then hunters from the three factions would come to warm themselves by their fire and the pair updated on the latest events. Everyone was talking about it.

A Ghost that had appeared out of nowhere, taking down the entire Kings Hand and Star King Roof Von Schlieffen, forcing the Kings Hand to delay their plans to attack the Queens Hand. In one swift action, Ghost had captured the imagination of the forest, with truth quickly mixing with myth. But everyone had the same question: Who was Ghost? Was he part of the Order? And whose side was he on?

Delilah had come to her own realization. Ghost wasn't on anyone's side. He was on his own. He stood by his conviction, not others'.

A conviction so strong that Delilah couldn't help but wonder if the ground he stood on could hold her too. Maybe, just maybe, she would find something worth living for, like he had.

Seeing the worry on her face, Marcus pointed to the pouch of meat lying beside their tent.

'You act like he's dead, Del. He gives us food every night. Don't worry, he's still alive. Go to sleep now. We'll talk more when you wake up. I'm sure he'll come out soon.'

His words warmed her heart, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Thanks for being here, Marc. You've always looked out for me. I never had a family, so I guess the Order didn't take much from me like they did from the others. But I met you here. My new family." She smiled brightly, dimples showing, her good nature shining through. "Maybe Ghost needs a family like us, too."

At that, Marcus's smile faltered for a moment, though he tried not to show it. He nodded instead, watching as Delilah got up to rest. He would take the night watch. Standing as Delilah settled down, Marcus turned back to the forest, looking over his shoulder into the abyss held within the doors of the pits.

"A monster like that doesn't deserve a family Del," Marcus whispered to himself. Yet he sounded unsure. He had expected the disciple of the Bloodcoil Sect to be far more ruthless as his elders had taught him. Knowing this, everytime he looked at Ghost he couldn't help but think… he was just a boy. A human. A lost human. Like him.

***

How long did he have to stay like this? Sweat dripped from Aziz's forehead to the ground. After hours in a handstand position, his arms were beginning to shake, balance slipping away. Finally, his aching muscles gave out, and his legs dropped to the floor. Drenched in sweat, he immediately shifted into a lotus position, pulling out the Lowly Serpent Breath manual and reading Master Zhang's words:

'Order and chaos exist together. One cannot live without the other in the material world. Excessive order leads to tyranny, while excessive chaos leads to anarchy. Both, in their extremes, bring untold despair. This is the Way. To walk the road that balances both. To achieve perfect order.'

Meditating on his master's words, Aziz closed his eyes, feeling the walls of the pit around him. He had been here for so long that this place felt like home.

At first, it had seemed like a prison, but not anymore. Humans can trap the body, but not the soul.

Hissing softly, Mal coiled around Aziz's neck, careful not to disturb his owner's state of focus.

Focus.

Aziz had been waiting for this moment.

Drawing on his internal energy, he noticed it growing darker by the day. How much darker could it get? How long before it mirrored the very blackness of the pit itself?

A few minutes passed before Aziz opened his eyes, exhausted but smiling. He had done it—he had sustained Wraith Walk for more than a few seconds. 

The triumph was fleeting, as fragments of the memory crumbled away. His painstaking training all these months, all the endless hours, had finally bore fruit.

The pit started to disappear as Mal's hissing broke through the silence, pulling Aziz back to the present.

"Master?" Mal hissed, his royal purple eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"I'm here, Mal. Don't worry."

Aziz stood alone in the tunnel, as he had done every day for the past week. The tunnel was the same as always—unchanging.

No light touched the walls, and that was fine with Aziz. He preferred the shadows over the light of Peklo Forest, with its beams filtering through the cracks in the ceiling.

He hadn't bothered counting the days. In fact, ever since he had fallen into the pit, he had stopped counting time altogether, moving only to the rhythm of his own internal clock.

Every day, he waited in this same spot, leaving only to deliver food to Little Marcus and Delilah, and to train from the manual. Soon, he would be able to learn the first martial skill from Master Xiang.

Hiss.

Finally. It was here.

Mal froze, his eyes locked on the endless stretch of tunnel ahead. The creature had arrived. After speaking with Marcus, Aziz had begun to piece things together.

The creature trapped in these tunnels had once ruled this entire place.

That wasn't particularly surprising—when Aziz first encountered it, he had sensed its age, far older than the newer, crude refurbishments in the labyrinth.

What had surprised him was the other thing Marcus revealed: the creature belonged to the Bloodcoil Sect.

Slowly, Aziz lowered himself to his knees.

Mal followed, bowing his heart-shaped head in reverence, instinctively recognizing the presence of something far greater.

They had waited here for seven days for this moment, and Aziz knew better than to squander the opportunity now.

From the darkness, it emerged.

The massive head of the snake appeared, its black scales nearly identical to Mal's, but with an uncanny difference.

These scales didn't merely reflect the shadows—they seemed to absorb them, drawing the darkness in like a living void.

Its eyes were a deep, dark purple, glowing faintly as if they held entire galaxies within. Stars seemed to flicker in the depths of those eyes, ancient and unfathomable.

The creature was so large that only its head fit within the tunnel, and even that filled the space entirely, its presence overwhelming.

Aziz felt the weight of it, both physical and metaphysical, pressing down on him. He bowed his head lower, heart pounding.

This was no ordinary creature—it was a relic of the Bloodcoil Sect's forgotten past, and now, after centuries, it stood before him.

"You have been patient, child. For that, I am pleased," the voice echoed in Aziz's mind, not spoken with a tongue, but a deep, resonant presence that touched his very thoughts.

It was like a whisper directly into his soul, bypassing the need for words.

Aziz blinked, startled. "You can speak?"

"Of course I can speak, child," came the response, the voice smooth and ancient, carrying the weight of ages.

Aziz swallowed, glancing up at the massive snake's head looming above him. "May I ask why you didn't speak before?"

The creature's eyes gleamed, their purple depths swirling with stars. "Not all my children can hear my voice. Only those who answer my call will be my heir."

Heir? The word unsettled him, and despite his caution, Aziz couldn't help but press further.

"Heir? Heir to what? Who are you?"

The snake's gaze didn't waver, its massive form still, as though the shadows themselves were holding their breath.

For a brief moment, Aziz feared he had overstepped, that the enormous serpent might devour him for his insolence. 

The creature's eyes showed no malice. Instead, he saw something profound in them—The Way.

"I am known by many names," the creature began, its voice carrying an almost reverent tone. "Your masters called me the Divine Snake. They worshipped me and upheld the tenets of my temple. In return, I gave them my blessings and protection. Once every generation, one of them would be given the chance to become my heir. The Heavenly Serpent. That one, in particular, would receive my most precious gift."

Aziz felt a strange pull in his chest, like a thread connecting him to the creature before him.

His blood seemed to hum with recognition, as though some forgotten part of him was responding to the Divine Snake's presence.

The creature's voice softened, though its power was undeniable. "I would allow them to take a part of my soul. To be truly divine. To be undying."

The words struck Aziz like a lightning bolt. Undying. 

His heart raced, a mix of fear and fascination flooding his veins. The pull towards the Divine Snake grew stronger, as if his very blood was drawn to the creature's immense power.

"Why?" Aziz asked, his voice trembling despite himself. "Why me? Why work with the Order? Do you not know what they did?"

His voice cracked, thick with emotion, as the anger he'd buried for so long rose to the surface.

How could this ancient, powerful being ally itself with the very people who had caused so much pain?

His fists clenched involuntarily, but even as rage threatened to overtake him, Aziz couldn't ignore the strange connection he felt to the Divine Snake.

There was something about its presence, its words—something that resonated deep within him, stirring emotions and questions he wasn't sure he was ready to confront.

The Divine Snake's voice, calm and sorrowful, entered his mind like a gentle whisper. "You are angry. I understand. You are suffering. I understand. I was there when you were alone, in pain. But I could not let you die. I was left with no choice. The only gift I could offer was a chance—an opportunity to survive."

The weight of those words pressed on Aziz's chest, but the explanation did little to soothe his bitterness.

"And the Order?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "Why are you working with them? Their crimes—"

"The partnership with the Order is only temporary," the Divine Snake interrupted, its voice heavy with regret. "They seek my power for their own ambitions, to wage their human wars, to create their weapons."

Aziz's mind raced. "And what do you want, Divine Snake? Forgive me, but the Bloodcoil Sect is gone. Are you using the Order to revive the sect?"

It was the conclusion he had come to.

It seemed the Divine Snake and the Order were locked in a game of manipulation, each trying to use the other.

It didn't sound particularly divine—it made the creature seem more human, more fallible, than its legendary reputation would suggest.

But the snake's response surprised him. 

"No," it hissed softly. "The Bloodcoil Sect is long dead, and I have no desire to bring it back. What is gone should remain at rest. I seek something simpler, child. I seek peace."

Aziz blinked, taken aback.

"Peace?" he echoed, the word feeling foreign in his mouth.

The snake's forked tongue flickered out, sending a subtle gust of air in his direction. "Yes. Peace. The Order has trapped me here. What you see now is merely a remnant of what I once was. I am dying, slowly. And when I am gone, the blessing I have given you—the curse—will die with me. You will be freed from it. And I pray, child, that you do not forsake me for it."

The remorse in the creature's voice was unmistakable, and for the first time, Aziz felt the weight of what the Divine Snake had done for him.

It was because of this being, this ancient, dying serpent, that he was still alive. The thing he had once called a curse was now his salvation.

"The Order promised to release me from this torment if I granted them my power—to create their own dogs. Strong, obedient dogs." There was bitterness in the Divine Snake's voice now. "But I know they will not keep their promise. They cannot understand the creature they have created. After all they did to you, they could never comprehend that the blood of the Divine Snake cannot be tamed."

Those words fueled something deep inside Aziz, reigniting his resolve. Yes. The Order. They had to fall.

They had taken everything from him, caused so much suffering—how many more would they harm before their reign ended?

He clenched his fists tighter, feeling his rage solidify into a burning purpose.

He wasn't just fighting for himself anymore. His mission was greater than revenge for the children of Fang Mountain.

It was for the Divine Snake, too—a creature that had granted him the chance to rise, to strike back at those who had wronged him.

A debt that Aziz would be sure to repay, with blood.

"So, what will you do, child? You sought me for answers, yet not all answers can I give you. And it seems you have company. Your friends will need your assistance," the Divine Snake's eyes began to slip away, fading into the darkness.

Aziz stepped forward, asking quickly, "What do you mean? Are you talking about Little Marc and Del?"

The snake didn't respond. Instead, it flicked its gaze toward Mal, who had remained motionless ever since the conversation began.

"You have done well so far, snakelet. Continue your service to your master. Serve him with loyalty. Serve him as if he were me."

For the first time, Mal spoke, hissing nervously between words. "Yes, my Divine."

With that, the massive serpent seemed to disappear, as though its immense form had simply vanished into thin air.

Aziz stood still for a moment, feeling the weight of the encounter. He dared not take another step forward, sensing that it would be disrespectful.

Instead, he turned, already walking as Mal slithered back up his wrist.

"What will you do now, master?" Mal hissed quietly. "The mute boy seemed to be telling the truth."

That was what disturbed Aziz. Little Marc seemed to know more about the mysterious Bloodcoil Sect than Aziz. A disciple.

There was still so much he didn't know... but did it matter? If the information didn't serve his goal, then it was irrelevant.

The people who weren't part of his plan didn't matter.

No. Everything was for one thing—revenge.

Revenge for all those who had suffered under the Order.

"The purpose of these exams is to select the best candidates to join the Order. So that's exactly what we will do. We will join them."

"Master, I do not understand. I thought you wanted to destroy them."

"I do," Aziz replied, his eyes hardening. "But the Order is far stronger than I am right now. If I went up against them like this, I would be crushed. No... They are using the Divine Snake to create monsters. So that's what I'll show them—a monster. And when they reach out their hands, that's when I will strike."

"It's quite dangerous to do this alone."

"I am not alone. I have you, Mal," Aziz said, and the snake vibrated lightly on his shoulder in response. "And I have others to use. No more hiding. I'll need power, and for that, I'll need powerful people by my side."

Clenching his fists, Aziz felt his resolve harden, the fire of his purpose reigniting.

"I will become stronger. One day, Mal, they will all kneel. One day. Let's go for now, it seems there's trouble in the forest."