A Grand Legacy

At the turn of the century, the gray tree had reached incredible proportions, and bathed the entire valley in shadow. It's buttressed roots rose far above the ground, and were as tall as the surrounding trees, that now basked in perpetual darkness.

The cocoon had grown much larger, to the point where the creature that lay at its core was finally able to attempt an escape. The gray swaddle shuddered as a young man tore his way free.

He fell to the ground, about fifty meters below, and landed with a heavy thud.

Not only did he survive the fall, he did so without injury. With some effort, he managed to rise to his feet, and stood fully exposed, except for the gossamer strands that still clung to his skin.

He looked about, feeling utterly lost.

"Who am I?" he muttered.

And as he peeled away the remnants of the cocoon that once sheltered him, he wondered aloud, "What am I?"

He took in the sight of the gigantic gray tree. At its base, the roots were propped above the ground and were split neatly in two, making it obvious that a pair of smaller trees had transformed themselves into roots and merged together to form one, colossal, gemel tree.

The young man didn't see any significance in the tree, despite its unusual size. So, he sauntered about, without any sense of direction.

Eventually, he left the valley, in search of the meaning behind his existence.

At the end of the millennia, he returned.

He now wore a flowing, gray robe and was no longer a young man.

His silvery beard was braided, and hung just past his waist. Time had taken its toll, having given him a pockmarked face; whilst crows feet lined his eyes, and between them, a sharp nose knifed its way to a pair of thin lips, which were now pursed in dismay.

In his arms, the old man clutched a bag of sackcloth.

He made a long, slow walk to the base of the gemel tree, whose trunk was as wide as a castled city. The roots towered above him, like the fingers of a god, digging deep into the bowels of the earth.

Suddenly, the old man roared, "Why!?"

His voice was so powerful, the mountains in the distance were shaken, unleashing a slew of avalanches.

"Why didn't you tell me!?" he cried.

Tears streamed down his face, moistening his beard.

He undid the knot of his bag, and carefully brought out a baby whose flesh was ashen. It was not actually a human child, but a cross between a small boy and a gray wood tree. Its skin was made of withered bark, and its features resembled pieces of carved wood. It had a pair of holes for eyes and a hallowed contour for a mouth. Its legs were an assemblage of skinny roots. Instead of hands, it had a mess of leafy branches. Intermittent gasps were the only sign that the little creature was among the living.

The old man hugged the child tightly, and shouted, "Why!? Why... didn't you tell me... who I was?"

Reams of vines were lowered down from the many branches of the gray gemel tree, just as an ancient voice penetrated the old man's thoughts.

"My child... you have returned... did you live... a good life?"

The old man craned his neck, and absorbed the majesty of the massive bough. It had no face, but he was certain that it was the tree itself that spoke into his mind.

"I-I'm not sure... whether the life I lived was good or bad," he said.

The old man lifted the child above his head, whereupon the descending vines wrapped themselves around the creature and brought it up into the shelter of the giant tree's upper reaches.

"Can you heal my son?" he asked, as the vines whisked it away.

"We cannot... prolong his life," the Gray Gemel answered, "but rest assured... this young sapling... will live... for a long time."

The old man sighed in relief. Cupping his hands in salutation, he gave the tree a deep bow.

The tree seemed to thrum in approval. It's next few words came in the form of a question. "What name... do you go by... my child?"

The old man wiped the tears from his eyes. "I am called Ah Wei. And... may I ask, what should I call you? Could it be that you are my mother? Or are you perhaps, my father?"

The reply rumbled into Ah Wei's mind. "We are both... Bu Shi, your mother... and Nam La, your father... for now... you may call us ancestor... or Bunam Shila."

Ah Wei bowed again. As he rose, he floated into the air and dove into the fold of the tree's numerous branches. He walked upon the leafy floor bed for some time before settling into the middle of a wide clearing.

The voice of his ancestor once again rang in his head.

"Welcome home my child... welcome to... the Gray Gemel Clan."

--

As soon as the dream ended, Tom opened his eyes and gasped.

He was back in the grassy field. The pine tree was gone, replaced with the sapling of a willow tree. He thought it strange, but didn't know what to make of this unexpected change.

He got up and walked the length of the world. This time it took a few hours for him to reach its end. The familiar wall of mist retained its usual properties.

Tom traced the edges of the pocket realm for a whole day, as he tallied each minute and concluded his estimation of the size of the area to be about ten square kilometers.

When he returned to the somewhat inadequate shade of the baby willow tree and sat down, he felt a strange sensation tugging at the corner of his mind.

He closed his eyes to concentrate, and tried to merge with his subconscious self. He sensed a mysterious force, lying dormant. He applied his will and tried to wield this newfound power. The experience was more or less like opening a spiritual door.

A moment later, he opened his eyes and looked up, to witness a black hole emerge from thin air. As it spun to life, its circumference grew. When it was wide enough to permit entry, an old man flew out of its murky depths and arrived at Tom's feet.

For awhile, Tom and Ah Wei merely gawked at each other.

It was Ah Wei that spoke first.

"So... my son, Mu Tou, has perished." He lifted a gnarled finger to point at Tom's chest. "And you have inherited his legacy... tell me, what were his final words?"

Tom repeated what Mu Tou had said to him prior to the dream-like memory he had experienced.

Ah Wei dipped his head in thought, and let the silence drift between them.

When he raised his head, the sad expression he had borne was gone, and in its place was an icy glare.

"While the legacy of the Gray Gemel Clan is already yours, you have yet to earn the right of inheritance."

He brought out a small, glass bottle and a green bamboo slip from within his sleeve and handed them over. "I had abided by my son's wishes, and given you a lifetime of peace. Now that your period of rest is over, you must honor our initial agreement. This jade slip will serve as your introduction to the world of cultivation. There are also ten soul infusion pills in that pill bottle. Use them to enhance your cultivation speed. And keep in mind that, in a fortnight, I will return to test your strength."

Ah Wei turned his back to Tom and flew towards the black vortex. He stopped when he was halfway through, and said in parting, "I do not know why my son chose you among the thousands of candidates that had responded to my offer... but I do believe it was an act of kindness."

When Ah Wei left, the portal collapsed, leaving Tom alone in his bewildered state.

Unsure of his present predicament, Tom returned to the willow tree and lay down under its drooping leaves, with only his head and shoulders resting in its shade.

He unfurled the jade slip and studied its painted calligraphy.

The writing was in a language Tom could not understand, so he quickly gave up on the idea of reading the words directly. He could however, sense an indelible force, prick his consciousness. He closed his eyes and knitted his brow.

The jade slip vibrated in his hand, and transmitted its contents directly into his mind. Gleefully, Tom devoured the windfall of new information and began the process of deciphering the meaning behind Ah Wei's words and the memory that Ah Tou had given him.

The introduction focused mainly on the practice of cultivation, but did include a few tidbits about the world of Therion, that existed beyond the pocket realm that Tom now considered to be his home.

It was a a planet world divided into five climatic regions: the Northern Desert, the Eastern Jungle, the Southern Tundra, the Western Islands and the Central Plains.

The Gray Gemel Clan stood in the center of the Graywood Forest, which was situated in the northeastern part of the Central Plains, bordering both the Northern Desert and the Eastern Jungle.

The forest itself spanned most of Graywood County, a large area governed by the Gray Gemel Clan, and was, for all intents and purposes, its domain of fealty. However, the clan itself did little for the county's normal residents, aside from applying a small residential tax, which was limited to city folk and the occupants of large townships.

The making of thoroughfares; construction of wells and aqueducts; the deeding of land, and any issue related to the welfare of the general public was actually the purview of mayors and governors, whose townships and cities were essentially independently run, and for at least three millennia, had their way of life unobstructed by the ruling clan's bid to horde cultivation resources. If anything, their role was to keep the peace.

As for what those resources constituted: mostly spirit stones, mined from spirit ores. They could be found at the bottom of a ravine, the top of a geyser, hidden in the core of a mountain, or nestled beneath the surface of a lake.

In essence, spirit stones are formed by the natural accumulation of spiritual energy drawn into being by the mysterious power of heaven and earth. There were however, exceptions to this rule. Certain objects or creatures were powerful enough to affect the world's spirit meridians, and increase the density of spiritual energy within their surroundings. The gray gemel tree of the Gray Gemel Clan was one such existence, and formed the nucleus of their power.

The pocket realm that Tom resided in was once the training ground of the Gray Gemel Clan and considered a treasured legacy. It is a spirit corridor that resides in the heart of the clan's spirit automaton: Mu Tou. His manifest form was a bonzai tree, of the pine wood variety.

Tom was certain that he had absorbed the remnants of Mu Tou's soul and thus inherited the role of the clan's spirit automaton. And by that logic, Tom concluded that the bonzai tree had changed its manifest form into one that belonged to the willow wood variety.

It was that train of thought that made Tom's heart flutter.

Not only had he been given a fresh start, he had become a venerated being. An object of worship for millions of people.

In that moment, a certain desire was born.

For the first time in Tom's life, he wanted to live. Not out of fear of what lay beyond the curtain of death. Rather, he wanted to know what it was like, to live in a world where he truly belonged.