The sun was high in the sky when Song finally dragged himself out of his yurt, yawning. Tae happened to be walking past at that moment, carrying a bundle of horse tack to the stables.

  “Brother Tae!!” Song called.

  Tae jumped. “Song!” His brother's eyes searched for a means of escape. “You’re up!”

  “Why did nobody wake me?” Song asked, pointing at the sun overhead. “It’s past noon!”

  “We all noticed that you came back without a jackal last night,” Tae said, backing up. “And we didn’t want to deal with your moping – I mean, we wanted to give you enough rest and time to prepare for tonight! You're welcome for keeping Mae out of your room by the way, she was worried.”

  Song felt a surge of indignation. “I don't mope!”

  [You actually do. Like, a LOT.] Cyrus quipped.

  Great, just how Song wanted to start the day, attacked on both sides by a pair of jackals. He should hunt them. He made do with growling, “I’m not moping right now.”

  “Oho?” Tae stepped forward, inspecting his little brother. His eyes narrowed. “You’re not, are you? Why? What’re you really up to?”

  Song backed away. “Up to, elder brother?”

  Tae’s face split into a knowing grin. “Ahah! I knew it! You’re meeting someone out there at night, aren’t you? Is it a girl? Oooh! Is it Jo Harin!? You dog, you!”

  “What!?” Song jerked back. “No!”

  “Reaaaaally?”

  Cyrus laughed. [Hah! Song, the eunuch, meeting a girl??]

  “I’m not a eunuch!” Song snapped, then covered his mouth with both hands.

  Tae stared at him in shock, then his smile widened, wolflike. “Uh-huh! The hit dog hollers loudest, little brother! Just remember to get the Yu’s special potion for… safety. Tell them I sent you.” Tae patted his brother on the shoulder as he walked past.

  Song held his face in both hands. It felt like steam was whistling from his ears. “Cyrus, I do believe I hate you…” he mumbled.

  [What’s that? I couldn’t quite hear you over the foot in your mouth.]

  Song cycled a bit of qi and hurled it against his dantian.

  [Hey! I heard that! See? It works! Now you just need to practice at turning it into something recognizable.]

  “I don’t have time for this. I need to complete the first technique of the Stellar Crane Style before Master leaves.”

  [Gothcha, bro. What’s the plan?]

  “Stand in the first form of Stellar Crane Style for four hours while circulating.”

  Cyrus groaned. [Son. Of. A. Fridge. How’s it possible for a human being to be so boring!?]

  “But first, lunch!” Song swung by the kitchen for a snack then made his way out to the training grounds, a bright smile on his face.

  —

  As the sun set, Song readied himself to go out. He felt a tingling sensation in his soul, like a premonition of fate. Tonight, something big was going to happen, he was certain.

  He checked his belt pouches and staff, and made sure his shoes were in a good condition. While walking across his yurt, he passed by his topshur lute and paused, considering the instrument. His face firmed and he grabbed it, slinging it over his shoulder.

  Cyrus’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind. [Song, someone’s outside.]

  Song jumped, and spun towards his yurt flap like he’d been caught being naughty. He let out a questioning, “Hello?”

  There was a coughing sound, and then his father’s voice came through the flap. “Song, are you heading out?”

  Song felt a pang of dread. “Yes, Patriarch.”

  “You’ve been working yourself very hard these last two nights and we – your mother is worried about you.” His father’s voice was hesitant. “I want you to know, Song, that no matter what happens, Hunter An won't throw you away, and we won’t think any less of you. Why, even I’ve failed at hunts – I was hunting the damn grasswolf that left me with these scars!”

  “Thank you Patriarch.” Song stared at San’s shadow projected on the side of the yurt. When he didn't leave, Song asked, “Was there anything else, Patriarch?"

  “*Ahem*! Yes! I’ve prepared a few supplies for you. I asked those damnable Yu’s to give me something to cover your scent, and I had another of those iron balls made. Hopefully they’ll be useful to you – I’ll leave them right here. I’ll just be going now, I assume you have a lot to do, and don’t need this old Patriarch bothering you.”

  A moment later there was the sound of crunching dirt moving off into the distance. Song walked over to the flap and opened it. A single wood-and-iron ball and a small jar lay in front of his flap.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  [Awww, he’s a big softy! What a cool dad!]

  Song clutched the items tight to his chest and whispered, “Thank you, Father. I promise, I won't disappoint you.”

  —

  It wasn’t just Master Crane waiting for them when they arrived, slightly breathless, at the pool. There was also a trussed up jackal, looking a little worse for wear.

  “Master!” Song shouted with joy. “You brought me a jackal!”

  Crane brushed his wing across his beak. “I couldn’t let my chick be distracted could I? There’s only one night left, and I need you to concentrate. Now, show me the results of your training.”

  Song shucked his equipment, then dutifully got into the stance of the Stellar Crane, one leg forward and the other back, arms spread and staff held at the ready.

  Master Crane examined his posture, gently pushing with a wing here and prodding with a claw there. Eventually he muttered, “Acceptable.”

  Song couldn’t help a grin from flashing across his face, but he quickly schooled it. He and Cyrus had practiced switching back and forth during their afternoon practice session, and it’d gone perfectly.

  The so-called Canadian found following physical instructions to be second nature. He was able to easily find the correct posture, and hold it. Though he’d made some extremely embarrassing *hoowahhh* sounds while doing so.

  On the other hand, Cyrus couldn’t circulate qi any better than a herd of angry goats. That was where Song came in. With his body easily falling into the first form of Stellar Crane Style thanks to Cyrus, Song was able to focus on the qi circulation required. What’d taken him a month to learn practicing with brother Wook, took less than 4 hours with Cyrus’s help.

  Crane examined his form once more, then nodded. “This is more than acceptable. My little chick is a genius! Or did you cheat with Cyrus’s help?”

  “Using all the tools available to a hunter isn’t cheating. It’s good preparation,” Song repeated a lesson from Hunter An.

  Crane smacked the back of Song’s head with a wing. “Impertent chick!” But his tone was pleased.

  “Speaking of tools, why did you bring that lute?” Crane asked, pointing at the topshur lying next to Song’s belongings.

  Song reddened. “I just… felt that maybe I would sing tonight.”

  “Sing?” Crane cocked his head sideways in confusion.

  “Yes, I haven’t in a while and… I want to do so again.”

  “I’ll look forward to my Haksaekki’s raucous squawking then! *Ack!* *Ack!*” Crane held a claw to his beak, he was laughing so hard. “But, let’s see if you can complete the first technique! Remember, look at your reflection, connect your Void qi to the light, then step into it.”

  Song cycled his qi through his legs, and gazed at his reflection a small distance off in the pool.

  He just needed to… step into his own reflection. He’d already done it in the Void with Cyrus, sort of. So how hard could it be?

  He closed his eyes and remembered that feeling, of being sucked into the mirror. It sent a shiver down his spine, but at the same time he could feel his Void qi responding to it, reaching out and connecting.

  He stepped –

  And rocketed out of his own shadow just a step behind him.

  “Oh? A good first try, little chick!” Crane cheered, then ruined it by adding, “though your aim is terrible.”

  Song re-entered Stellar Crane stance, and cycled his qi once more. If it was just a matter of aim, he'd been practicing that for weeks.

  This time he tried to focus not just on the sucking feeling, but on the image of himself on the water.

  He stepped –

  And appeared out of a puddle on the bank.

  He tried again. And again. And again. He managed fifteen attempts over the first hour.

  And not once did he arrive where he intended.

  Crane eventually held a wing up to stop him. “Take a break and meditate on what you've learned. Remember, techniques are as much about enlightenment as they are about the movements. And you, Cyrus, don't distract him!”

  [Wasn't planning to.] Cyrus said from within the mindscape. [Come on in, Song. Remember what I told you about sound and vibrations? I have some ideas to share about light.]

  Song sighed and went to sit in lotus position. Overhead, the full moon practically flew across the sky, faster than seemed possible. He had less than six hours left.

  —

  “The trick,” Cyrus said, pointing up at the stars overhead. “Is that light is a particle.”

  “A what?” Song was seated in a lotus stance, waiting for the Canadian’s words of wisdom.

  Cyrus scrunched up his face. “Um… a tiny ball?”

  It looked like he might be waiting a long time. Song barely kept from rolling his eyes like brother Tae always did. “And planets are marbles.”

  Cyrus pointed at Song. “Yes, you get me!”

  “I don’t,” Song stated, crossing his arms. “Are you sure you know what you’re talking about?”

  “Yes.” Cyrus pinched his thumb and forefinger together. “When I say a little ball, I mean so small that it’s quite literally impossible to see, Song. ”

  “Cyrus, I SEE light all the time!”

  “No! You’re seeing lots of light particles at once! Arrrghh! I’m not a science teacher, okay?” Cyrus gripped his hair. “The point is that in order for there to be a reflection, light has to bounce from you to the pond! Instead of trying to ‘aim’ at a reflection, just imagine that you’re connecting to that tiny ball of light!”

  “I’ll try,” Song shook his head. “Give me some space.”

  “Space given!” Cyrus said, walking to the far corner of the mindscape. He crossed his arms and watched Song with anticipation.

  Song rubbed the back of his head, and repeated his mantra.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Head of stone. Heart of steel. Hold your tongue. Hide your thoughts.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  He did his best to visualize and comprehend what Cyrus was describing. The stars overhead were releasing countless tiny… particles… and they traveled impossibly far through the Void in an instant, then bounced off him and landed in the pond…. “No. I’m just not seeing it.”

  Cyrus sighed. “I feel like this would be easier to explain if I had a flashlight. Reflections are so much more complicated than just direct light.”

  “A flash-light?”

  “Y’know, a bright light that shines directly? Like a torch or – or – your Sign!”

  Song touched his chest, while Cyrus continued excitedly. “Your Sign glows, right? Connect to the particles of light coming from yourself! Is that easier to, uh – comprehend, or whatever?”

  “Master did tell me that an Unorthodox cultivator's martial arts should incorporate their Sign! I’m a fool for not remembering!” Song closed his eyes once more, this time not even bothering with the matra. He envisioned the ember of his dantian growing and swelling as he cycled his qi faster and faster, until it erupted in a glorious blaze. All the tiny balls of light flew from him to touch the pool, his Master, and everything within sight. And he just needed to jump into the saddle, like it was Murim’s fastest horse, and it would deliver him to his destination.

  Comprehension clicked into place. It was all so clear! Was this what enlightenment felt like!?

  Song’s eyes snapped open. “I think I got it!”

  Cyrus pumped his fist. “Go, team!”

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