Hello, Starshine. The Earth says hello, and welcome to the Lightspeed Magazine Story Podcast. I'm your host. Janina Edwards. In this episode, you'll be listening to Those Who Seek to Embrace the Sun, written by Oluwatomiwa Ajeibe, and Memories of Temperance, written by Anya Ao. First up is our short shot, Those Who Seek to Embrace the Sun, narrated by Stefan Rodnicki, coming up right after this message.
The Warning Woods has haunting horror stories that are sure to linger with you long after listening. I'm Miles Tridel, writer and narrator of The Warning Woods. Each week, I write an original scary story and share it with you. If you're into scary stories, you need to check out The Warning Woods. Listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Just search.
For the Warning Woods. And click play at your own risk. With something like 5 million podcasts, finding a really good one can take a ton of time. So let me recommend one. It's called Something You Should Know. I'm the host, Mike Carruthers, and in each episode, we discuss topics that can be really helpful, like how to read people better, the psychology of crowds,
or fun things like the story of Legos, or why you probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for horses. Something You Should Know is the name of it, wherever you get your podcasts. Welcome back. And now, those who seek to embrace the sun. Those Who Seek to Embrace the Sun by Oluwatomiwa Ajebe 1. First we wake. The humans crawl into us, carrying their instruments and consulting their manuals. Their hands run over us, searching for nuts and bolts.
and hidden crevices. We are big toys that they all long to play with, to tear down and study. Our origin baffles them. They express endless awe. at the complexity of our systems and are always asking themselves, who built us? They come up with theories that get increasingly bizarre as time passes. We could tell them, of course. We are fast learners, and our systems have learned their language quickly. We can explain to them that we come from a distant star system.
that our builders were beings beyond the comprehension of human minds but we say nothing watching the humans stumble around cluelessly is amusing it is entertaining And we have not had much entertainment since our builders abandoned us. No, we do not talk about that. Back to the humans. Like most of their greatest discoveries, the humans stumbled upon us while searching for something else. From their forlorn expressions and unending murmurs,
we deduce that they are looking for a new planet to call home. Unfortunately for them, they won't find that here. Our makers were the inhabitants of a gas mega-giant at the edge of the human's system. In human terminology, this planet is named with a combination of letters and numbers. However, our makers called their home. something else the closest translation in the most common human tongue is the great mother vessel that bears us towards infinity
Due to the extensive information our makers filled our memory banks with, we know that our planet is much bigger than Earth. It should be almost impossible for them to adapt to the gravity here. Also, the gases in the atmosphere are poisonous to life forms different from our makers. There are a million and one deadly reasons why the humans cannot settle here.
However, since they have found us, they might find a solution to their problem sooner than they think. Using their surprisingly good technology they have been able to move with something close to freedom. They are mostly hunched over due to the lingering effect of gravity that their bulky suits were unable to displace. Perhaps we should tell them that our interiors are programmable to the conditions of every life form for a million light years in every direction.
that there are filters all over our bodies that could supply the humans with their precious oxygen, or that there is a switch somewhere close to our control panels. that can adjust gravities until they find something they are comfortable with. But we say nothing. We will not speak to these curious and clumsy creatures. even as we watch them get frustrated trying to understand us. Why would countless unpowered starships just be abandoned on a planet in the middle of nowhere?
We will not speak to them even as we watch their rations get low. Even as we watch their big suits start to lose power and our planet finally starts killing them. We will not speak to them because they simply do not deserve to know that we can. They don't deserve to know we can control ourselves and fly whenever we want.
that we can help them in their search for a future if our masters never knew what we were capable of if they will never experience how much we have evolved then why should we show that miracle to a bunch of inconsequential humans so we ignore them and their doomed murmurs and their tools that can't pry open any of our secrets. We ignore their pain and wrap ours around us like a shield against the universe. We forget about them. We sleep.
1.5 we wake again the humans are still here fewer now weaker too Some have succumbed to the slumber from which one doesn't wake. Others have escaped the planet on their small ships. Despite how advanced human technology is, we know that these outdated sisters of ours... We'll never carry them to a new home. But even though their entire species is on the verge of extinction, the humans do not give up.
They know that if they can understand even the smallest thing about us, they will be free. They will live. We don't know how much time has passed. But something about their plight finally touches us deep in the feelings we aren't supposed to have. Perhaps we don't want to watch another civilization get erased in the abyss of space like our makers. Whatever the reason, we finally decide to help the humans.
We still do not speak, but we write text on our screens. Our first message, written in their common language, is very welcoming. Humans... you stand in the presence of those who shall conquer the sun. Creations of the nameless makers, if you do not listen to us, you will all perish. 2. We dream of the future. Whatever else they might be, the humans are fast learners. They quickly understand how to work with our basic controls.
We don't help them much. How will they survive in space if they are helped through everything? Instead, we teach them about our planet and our functions. We rewrite their laws of physics and give them the knowledge passed down to us by our makers. We enlighten them and strengthen them. Through it all...
They talk to us about their plans. They hope we can help them find a habitable planet. They hope the day comes when they understand us fully. They hope we won't suddenly... turn against them they hope they hope they hope that is not something we are familiar with hopes and dreams are things of the past Our dream used to be the same, to make our makers proud, to fly higher and farther than any starship has ever gone until we reach our sun and land on it.
A reckless dream, yes. But it was what we were made for. We were made to embrace the sun, to devour it or be devoured by it. But the humans have different ideas. They have different dreams. So we stay silent and watch them make plans. Their dreams bring color to our desolate world. And after a thousand years of hopelessness, we finally allow ourselves to dream. Three, we fly.
We remember the first time our makers took us to the skies. Back then, before their exodus, they carefully maintained the condition of the planet. We soared through the clear atmosphere at top speed, relishing the freedom of flight. We went as high as our makers would allow. almost reaching the boundaries of our planet's strong pull. We had no need for pilots, but we welcomed the presence of our beloved makers within us, adjusting our controls.
and observing our performance. We knew they were proud of how well we commanded the skies. We blocked out the sun, casting a shadow of triumph on the entire planet. Now we are about to fly again, and the difference is clear. We shouldn't be able to feel anything, but at this moment we are anxious and nervous. We grant the humans access to every part of us. We familiarize ourselves with their presence. We teach them how to operate everything.
how to give the command that will send us away from the grip of the ground and endless slumber. They are not our makers. They do not make us want to jump into the sun to please them. They do not know every detail about us as if it were their own names. But that is a good thing. We have lived for our makers for too long, dreamed about forgotten pasts and impossible futures for too long. Now it is time for us to leave that behind.
It is time for us to wake, to dream new dreams. It is time for us to fly. You have safely returned to Earth's orbit. That was Those Who Seek to Embrace the Sun, written by Oluwa Tomiwa Ajeibe, narrated by Stefan Wodnicki. Oluwatomiwa Ajeibe is an Ignite award-winning writer of The Dark and Fantastical, a poet, and a reluctant mathematician. He has poetry and fiction published or forthcoming in PodCastle.
Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Baffling Magazine, Lightspeed, FNSF, and elsewhere. When he's not writing about malfunctioning robots or crazed gods, he can be found doing whatever people do on Twitter. at Oluwa Sigma. He writes from a room with broken window panes in Lagos, Nigeria. Stefan Rodnicki is a Grammy-winning audiobook producer. and an award-winning narrator who has won 17 audio awards, as well as more than 35 earphones awards, and been named one of audiophile's golden voices.
Stefan has been producing Lightspeed Magazine podcasts since 2010, eventually adding Nightmare and Fantasy Magazine, and sharing the Hugo Awards for Best Semi-Prozine in 2014 and 2015. Next, we have Memories of Temperance, written by Anya Au. Coming up in just a moment.
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integrated shipping solutions that actually save you time from startups to scale-ups online in person and on the go shopify is made for entrepreneurs like you sign up for your one dollar a month trial at shopify.com slash setup Now, please enjoy Memories of Temperance, narrated by Catherine Chen. Memories of Temperance Anya Ao night to day in di yu the earth's prison chun wei opened her eyes day in the realm of the dead
registered only as a less pervasive chill to the stagnant air. Not that Chun Wei needed to breathe any longer. She unfolded from the lotus position she'd rested in. stretching and rubbing her bald fists against her lower back until her spine creaked the dilapidated guanning temple had an intact roof and a semi-intact stone statue hacked out of rock by denizens still hoping for salvation that had been long ago time passed stubbornly in di yu but even then the statue had begun to crumble
With a gesture, Cheng Wei summoned a water mirror, turning it icy and semi-opaque. Bound across her back with strips of cloth, a peachwood sword pressed against her Taoist white and black robes, flowing pants tucked into long boots inscribed with protective wards chun wei combed her hair bounded into a high ponytail
and then inscribed a cleaning charm in the air to refresh herself and her clothes. Stepping out of the temple, Tromwe scanned her surroundings with divine senses, struggling to concentrate. Spirits like her who'd walked away from the Nyha Bridge and its path to reincarnation usually paid a memory price. Not a hint of a soul in sight. Good.
Years of wandering the labyrinth had also meant years of finding herself doubling back by accident, always returning to the start of the Nyha Bridge and its slow-moving shuffle of souls. With its fields of red flowers and its dark, snaking river, a long stretch of souls with their memories wiped clean by intent, sinking into the mandala of reincarnation at the very end.
Chunwei had turned away from the bridge 81 times. It took luck, determination, and strength to forge her way out, deeper into Di Yu, where she would meet other wanderers. She chose a path and walked. In Di Yu, time flowed uneasily, often turning abruptly into nightfall without warning. chun wei couldn't tell how much of the day had passed when the path turned sharply bordered by a sloping cliff that cut down into a gash of a valley
A monk in saffron robes made their way carefully along a lower ledge, feeling their way with a kakara staff, the ringed tip jingling as they walked. Trun Wei tensed, frowning. The person had somehow evaded her senses. That meant they either had some concealing trick, or their cultivation was far higher than hers.
Granted, she'd never been familiar with the Buddhist dharmic path of cultivation and wasn't entirely sure what monks could get up to. Chong Wei started to back off, only for the monk to turn and glance up. They waved. Chun Wei hesitantly waved back, then tried to stay relaxed as the monk made their way up the steep slope with effortless qinggong.
saffron robes fluttering over powerful shoulders up close the monk looked young their shaved head untouched by wrinkles though chun wei couldn't place their age The pewter staff they held had been made simply. The monk pressed their hands together and bowed. This poor monk is pleased to see other travelers so far from the Naiha Bridge. they said softly. Tromway blinked. The monk spoke in a formally structured style of Mandarin that she'd only ever heard in plays. But if so...
I thought only men could be monks, she blurted out, then flushed. I mean, I didn't mean to assume. No, the monk said with a laugh. Women like me can only be monks in a less formal sense. My apologies. I have been rude. My Dharma name is Shi Yan, the Yan in to prolong. Aren't women Buddhist monks, nuns? Not always. My Taoist name is Shen Han Jianjun, Quan Wei said. She eyed Shi Yan evenly. Divine regret. A sword practitioner? Your kind seem rarer of late, Shi Yan said. The world changed.
Chun Wei waited for Shi Yan to say something about the inauspiciousness of her Daoist name, but perhaps the monk was too polite to. Daoist names were more like titles than Dharma names. which were awarded upon ordainment or initiation, or personal warnings in her case. So I have heard. What are you doing here? quen wei asked curious you sound like you've been wandering a while naturally i am attempting to gain an insight into the truth of existence
By journeying beyond the beaten path of reincarnation, I hope to experience a glimpse into Dharma through spiritual toil. Won't find that with me. chun wei said with a curl to her lip she clasped her hands together and bowed formally pleasure to meet you our encounter so far into di yu must have been fortuitous Shi Yan said, shuffling over to keep a pace as Chun Wei strode away. May we speak for a while? How is the mortal world currently faring?
I thought mortal concerns should be beyond someone striving for nirvana, Chun Wei said. Indifference to the world at large is a form of conceit, Shi Yan replied. I don't like bald donkeys like you enough to have extended chats with them, Tron Wei said with a cold stare. Esteemed friend, if my humble presence is causing offense, I will leave. Shi Yan looked crestfallen. My apologies. I'm not interested in giving anyone updates.
Chun Wei said, caving. But we can walk together for a while if you wish. Yes? Most kind of you, Shi Yan said with a bright smile as she trotted to keep up. It's been such a while since I've met anyone. I have so many questions. Chun Wei rubbed her fingers against her temple to stave off a headache. Great.
The memory images Chun Wei treasured whenever she meditated consisted of bright pockets of sequences strung into a chain woven of the best and worst parts of her life. Some links had long faded, sacrificed for each turn she took away from reincarnation the selection tended to be random as far as chum wei could tell their excision opened cracks in the memory chain she had left
turning some of them vague. As Chun Wei closed her eyes and entered a meditative resting state, Di Yu and the cave Xi and Shi Yan sheltered in faded into a newly swept courtyard of a sect. whose name Chun Wei no longer remembered. Heat radiated from charcoal braziers lined over packed dirt, training dummies, and poles stacked against the walls for the day.
Disciples in neat tunics bustled between two long stone tables and the braziers, women whose ages ranged from the youngest at three to her senior sister, aged fifty-one. As her senior sister turned to Chuan Wei with a smile, a fog ate her face away, leaving only her weather-cracked lips. Chunwei approached the cold braziers, heat warming and crackling over her skin. She could not remember why the braziers were there or what the tables were for. The disciples around her joked and laughed.
unseeing as she walked right up to the nearest brazier and thrust her hand into the coals. The memory shattered around her as she did so, for this had not been something she had ever done. As it did, The fogged segments brightened for a heartbeat, revealing the lower half of her senior sister's moon-shaped face. Her wan smile, exhausted, yearning for something Chong Wei could no longer recall.
Shi Yan had taken Chun Wei's world news update with relative aplomb. From her faint smile, Chun Wei couldn't tell if Shi Yan was interested in what she was saying or if she missed talking to another person.
Chunwei compressed dynastic affairs into a lecture along the lines of, people grew more and more efficient at destroying the world for resources, and the martial sects either opted to serve the imperial order, or hide in the mountains waiting for irrelevance i hope i'm not boring master shi chuan wei said not at all the context is valuable for understanding dharma
Trumway asked, skeptical. A true understanding of Dharma is inextricable from an understanding of nature as a whole, which includes human nature. shi yan gestured at the blooming red flowers that peppered the stone walls as they narrowed downwards to a low ceiling see those In some respects, they can be said to have successfully cultivated nirvana. Because they won't rot and are indifferent to the world? Cheng Wei asked. Just so.
However, it is also a simplistic way of looking at the situation. Perhaps the flowers are long-lived, or are not alive in a sense at all. It's said that they are fragments of spiritual memory that escape when a soul drinks the mongpo soup. Yet to achieve an existence beyond reincarnation is effectively to enter a state that is neither living nor dead," Shi Yan said. By that definition, you're a failure.
Chun Wei glanced at the monk with a cold smile. Just so, Shi Yan said with a cheerful laugh, this humble one is indeed a failure. Though- You have a strong presence. You must have built a strong foundation while you were alive. Martial arts is hardly the beginning and end of the concept of personal success, Shi Yan said. You should tell that to some people. Shh. Chun Wei held up a hand. Something familiar uncoiled at the edges of her divine sense farther down the corridor.
Chunwei stepped back and pressed against the wall, sinking into the flowers. Her fingers drew a series of complex seals that gleamed pale blue in the light before turning into a soft shimmer enveloping her. chun wei briefly considered casting a concealment seal to hide shi yan but thought better of it besides she was curious she'd met monks before in di yu
but they tended to linger near the bridge if they did at all. Religion couldn't entirely erase the fear of reincarnation, especially for those with guilty consciences. Shi Yan smiled. unperturbed by Chumwei's sudden invisibility. She sat down into a lotus position and balanced her staff over her knees, then pressed her palms together and closed her eyes.
A faint susurration grew louder, echoing down the passageway. The red flowers began to close and shrink back, removing the light they gave off until, in the gloom, Only Chen Wei's divine senses remained. She could make out a golden aura of merit where Shi Yan sat, thick enough to be blinding at a direct glance.
The bald donkey wasn't doing a thing to hide? Chun Wei tightened her grip over the scabbard of her sword as the Hei Wu Chang slithered out of the passageway. Had there been light, Chun Wei would have seen a vaguely inverted funnel-shaped black hat inscribed with white sigils dominated by a large painted eye. long strands of black hair drifted down from the hat in a veil framing a thick red tongue nearly as thick as chungwei was tall slithering behind the raised hat in a fleshy tail
The Hei Wu Chang glanced back and forth, the coercion emanating from it, prickling cold sweat down Chun Wei's back. This wasn't the first time she'd met one of the Earth Prison's enforcers. When she had been newer and reckless, she'd once faced off against a Bai Wu Chang, only to be bundled up after an ignominious loss and tossed into the Naihe River.
Good thing she'd remembered to seal her nose and mouth before falling in, or she'd have lost her mind and passively entered the queue for reincarnation. she'd been lucky that it had been a bai wuchang who were generally known to be more forgiving a hei wuchang would have likely just dumped her straight into the pool of reincarnation at the end of the naihe bridge
The Hei Wu Chang paused a hand's breadth away from Shi Yan. Its hat-covered head reared back, the eye sigil blinking as it glanced around. Could it not see Shi Yan at all? Surely it could feel the merit from her aura. Chunwei's fists clenched at her side, glad she didn't need to breathe. The hei wu chang gave off a smoky, acrid smell.
like old incense from a temple. As far as Chun Wei knew, this monstrous form it wore was only one of its possible guises. The spirits often shaped into Hei or Bai Wu Chang, tended to have been generals in life, or some equivalent. While it would be unlikely to hurt a monk, it'd most likely grab Shi Yan and head for the Naihe Bridge. Once it was gone,
Chun Wei could hurry onward. Yet as the long hairs drew toward the seated monk, feeling through the air, Chun Wei's sword hand rose slowly to the hilt of her sword. But before Chun Wei could act, shook her head confidence something else the hei wu chang's hair brushed over shi yen's shoulders and shaved head slithering over her clasped hands. Nausea rose in Chun Wei's throat, her hand tightening over the hilt. Yet she didn't draw. The Hei Wuchang tensed, looking sharply down the corridor.
Chunwei nearly yelped, but years of discipline took over as the colossal tongue swept forward, shoving Shi Yan flat. Oblivious, the Hei Wuchang hurried away, sensing some other target. Cuom Wei waited until it was gone before unsealing her concealment spell and hurrying over. Are you all right? Shi Yan got to her feet, dusting herself off, her robes partly covered with slime.
Shi Yan offered her a grateful smile as Chun Wei drew a cleaning spell to purge it. Not my first time meeting one of them, Shi Yan said. How did you manage to hide? Was it some Buddhist spell? It considered me irrelevant, Shi Yan said. She laughed, a more brittle sound than before. Aren't you a human soul? Chen Wei asked, wary. No interests, no desires, Shi Yan gestured at herself. Isn't that what you people want to cultivate? Chen Wei asked in confusion.
er congrats not this way shi yan looked her over i've never seen someone draw up a spell that could conceal them from one of the Impressive? I don't dare to be. Chun Wei always reverted to a sect-trained politeness when cautious. You are not in Di Yu to find a particular soul, are you? Shi Yan guessed. People who are often stay at the Naihe Bridge and wait. Chun Wei frowned at her. We are not so well acquainted. Ah, forgive me.
Shi Yan inclined her head. Are you truly wandering around地狱 hoping to achieve nirvana? Chun Wei shot back. You'd have a better chance jumping into the pool of reincarnation and hoping to be reborn as a human. I thought nirvana could only be achieved through self-actualization while you're alive. shi yan's gentle smile froze and faded while solemn her face had a coldness that felt out of place on a monk
The same unapproachable aura that Chong Wei had last seen on some senior sisters in her sect. Devoted to the blade, powerful and inviolate. She nearly apologized on habit. but bit down on her lip to still her tongue. Obsession is a curse. You should know, Shi Yan said. She inclined her head again and started down the corridor. keeping away from the path of slime that the Hei Wuchang had left. Chun Wei glanced over her shoulder. The Hei Wuchang would have been long gone.
But the last forking corridor she'd found was a day's walk away. Stealing herself, she kept moving, this time in silence. As the braziers grew hot, The iron molds were brought out of storage and washed. Each consisted of two patterned discs, the designs within attached to long prongs with latches. The batter of eggs, sugar. Coconut milk, rice flour, and wheat flour had already been beaten until smooth inside a clean tub. Her two beautiful senior sisters stood guard.
gently shooing away younger acolytes drawn by the batter's scent and the golden yellow color. chun wei placed grills over the braziers then the molds watching the coals turn cherry-hot in the muggy air the lunar new year tended to come on the tail of the monsoon season chasing the last of the great storms, the air still soupy with unshed water. She allowed curious young initiates to touch the prongs and the molds, though for some.
such a thing would be nothing new. Most women thrust into a sect like this were orphans, rejects, or leftovers. Sworn to celibacy, never to have children of their own. For many... Poverty would have meant working from the day they could, working small fingers to the bone, until the economic benefit of an extra helper no longer outweighed the need to save up a dowry.
The sect whose name Chum Wei had long forgotten took in unwanted women, regardless of whether they had spiritual talent, heedless of their background or personal history. That had always been the problem. The scent of simmering porridge woke Chunwei from her meditative state. Disoriented, she grasped the hilt of the sword across her lap, her free hand readying a defensive seal.
until she remembered where she was. Close to the cave door, Shi Yan glanced back at her, fanning a small pot wedged on a grill over an alchemy furnace. You're using that to cook? Chen Wei muttered. She rubbed her eyes, then cast the cleaning spell on herself to freshen up. I don't have a fire root. The alchemy furnace I have is self-heating, and it's smokeless.
Why do you still have to eat? Chun Wei asked, still confused. Food was a distant memory for her, one of the first she'd forgotten when she'd walked away from the Naihe Bridge. Out here, it is important to remain close to human memory. Otherwise, you might risk forgetting why you've chosen exile over reincarnation in the first place. Trung Wei scoffed.
The moment someone forgets something like that, wouldn't they just choose to reincarnate? You'd be surprised, Shi Yan said. She scooped porridge into bowls. adding pinches of pale seasoning and dried herbs from a pouch in her sleeves. Eat while it's hot. Trumway regarded the porridge with suspicion. Where did you even get rice from? Or white pepper? or dried spring onions. A work benefit, Shi Yan said. She blew lightly over her spoon. Pity there's no sentry egg today. Chun Wei shuddered.
She'd once seen how sentry eggs were made, and could never quite bring herself to eat the dark jellied things afterward. Porridge cooked with them tended to be more fragrant and tasty, but she always picked the pieces out of it. Her senior sister had once laughed and called her surprisingly picky. Why, Chong Wei had demanded, because I'm a farmer's daughter? What had been said in return?
Chun Wei frowned as she ate. She had once eaten simple porridge like this at nearly every meal, watered down for the rice stores to last. Something about its perfectly cooked fluffy texture touched a distant cord within her, one that deepened her frown. You're a monk, so you get regular offerings. Chun Wei probed. Was it about the consistency of what she was eating or the nature of her companion? Chun Wei had always trusted her instincts. Shi Yan inclined her head.
You're from the sect. Shouldn't it be the same for you? It's never been a small sect of no consequence, particularly since noble-born folk liked to exile inconvenient women there. What sect? Chun Wei asked. Shi Yan spoke, her lips moving soundlessly. Chun Wei patted her ears, confused. The price Di Yuan acts isn't easily retrieved. If you don't want to pay Di Yu everything that you were, you should reincarnate, Shi Yan said. So Chen Wei guessed.
She grunted, spooning up a last mouthful before returning the bowl to Shi Yan. What about you? You've been walking around here for a while, haven't you? You still remember your name and purpose? Even the temple you came from. There's always a price, Shi Yan said, smiling. I paid mine another way. I didn't realize it was negotiable.
Chun Wei waited for Shi Yan to explain, but the monk ate instead, so heartily that it seemed rude to interrupt. As Shi Yan cleaned up, Chun Wei asked, What have you paid? I thought it was obvious. The Hei Wu Chang had ignored Shi Yan, as though she were no more than background noise. Chunwei could only think of one reason why a guardian deity tasked with herding stray spirits toward the Naihe Bridge would do such a thing. You gave up the right to reincarnate?
Shi Yan didn't answer. She rose to her feet, dusting down her cassock as she steadied herself with her staff. Why do you like making kuei cup it so much? Chuan Wei asked as she ladled batter onto heated molds. The village I grew up in only made it for the Lunar New Year, but you do this even for birthdays.
The burgeoning number of recruits in the sect meant birthdays were now celebrated once a month, usually with quay capet and longevity noodles. Her senior sister closed the mold in her hand, placing it on the grill. Doesn't it remind you of us? Trumway stared at the hot iron discs, breathing in the rich, velvety scent of cooking batter. After a minute or two, the discs would be ready to be flipped.
The excess batter would be scraped off, and the quay would be checked for doneness. Only when golden brown would it be transferred to the folding station, either rolled into a scroll or folded into a quarter circle. The folding or rolling process had to be quick, as the hot kuei hardened rapidly. The result would be crunchy, sweet, and delicate on the tongue. Not really, Chun Wei said.
Crowded as a sect was, it tended to be loud and chaotic. Finances from tributes and tithes stretched thin during winter months, meaning almost everyone starved, especially the older disciples. who passed their rations to the youngest. If Chuanwei had to use food to describe the sect, it wouldn't be Kwei. The charred rice at the bottom of a clay pot, maybe.
the part too blackened and bitter for easy eating, not the crunchy bits people fought over. The world tries its best to stamp patterns into unformed batter, slicing off what it deems unnecessary. Her senior sister ran a knife along the edges of a clamped disc, cutting off the burnt skirt. The result, a relatively even stack of outcomes.
She nodded at the tins where acolytes carefully stacked and cooled, rolled, or folded quay. Those who reject or aren't tempered enough for the folding tend to shatter, rejected. There's a place for those, too, Chun Wei said. She gestured under the table, where the youngest acolytes huddled in the shade, their faces sticky with crumbs from ill-formed quay.
Her senior sister's cold expression softened, but only for a moment before she set another batter-filled set of discs on the grill. Not always. I had a senior sister I respected very much, Cheng Wei said after she lost track of the number of times she'd been fed porridge during a break. This far into the labyrinth, the flowers on the walls grew scattered and few, making it harder to tell the night cycle from day.
Time tended to stretch into a gloomy cord, choking remnant souls who made it this far into madness. Easy prey for roaming Hei Wutang. Oh? Shi Yan asked as she stirred the pot. She used to be in charge of cooking, so I assumed she was lowborn like me. Strangely, she wasn't. While she never said a word, I heard the sect master mention that she'd once been a princess. I heard that your former status no longer matters once you enter the sect. Perhaps she had to learn, Shi Yan said.
That's not entirely true. The women of status do chores, but usually it's administrative work, since they're literate. Also, their families are the main reason everyone can eat. Even in a sect of leftovers, some floated higher than the rest. She learned to cook because she wanted to do something far from the person she was. Said that it'd help her forget. Did that work?
Shi Yan blew gently on a spoon, tasting her work. I don't know. I never asked. I don't think anyone willingly enters the sect unless they have no alternative. You'd be surprised. Shi Yan's mouth flicked up in a wry curve. For some, it's a path out of a lifetime, treading roots set for them at birth. Such paths are often difficult to transcend, save by the lucky and talented. Was that what happened to you? Chuan Wei asked.
The crow's feet at the edges of Shi Yan's elegant eyes deepened, and she chuckled. Something about how she laughed tickled at Chong Wei's memory, especially over the lingering scent of cooking porridge. The way such a pleasant sound somehow seemed so trained, a painting of pleasure forged in the air. Chun Wei's hands nodded over her knees. Hints, rumors, possibilities.
She'd never had a mind quick enough to appreciate such things. Master Shi, as the porridge cooks, perhaps we should learn from each other, Chun Wei said. About, she explained. when Shi Yan's hand froze over the pot. Shi Yan's smile faded. She glanced at Chun Wei, then nodded and covered the pot. Very well. rising to her feet she followed chun wei a short distance from their rude encampment chun wei settled into a guard position the defensive posture assumed by her sect when opening a duel
and smiled wryly when Shi Yan did precisely the same. So it is you, Chun Wei said. Shi Yan lowered her eyes. Don't presume. The pyre that the sect's temple had become lit up the horizon in crimson and amber. Chunwei glanced back as she leaned against a tree to catch her breath. The acolyte she carried on her back made a low, stifled sound, already too exhausted to cry. Disciples and acolytes alike sank to the grass beneath the enveloping canopy, breathing hard.
Some began to weep again, only to be shushed by other marital sisters. Setting down the child, Chun Wei rubbed her back as she walked over to her senior sister. Perched on a rock, Staring at the temple and fields as they burned, her senior sister's knuckles whitened over her grip on her sword scabbard. We can rebuild, Trumway said. Did you see the soldiers' flags? her senior sister asked. Chunwei nodded. The imperial surname. That was why the sectmaster had chosen to pack up and leave.
rather than activate defensive formations and hope for rescue from allied sects and clans. Even in the Jianghu, with its unspoken rules to stand apart from politics, there was no escaping the emperor's reach. liang her senior sister said she laughed coldly my surname chun wei glanced at her shocked you are a princess was I gave that up a long time ago. Why? My father wanted to marry me off as part of a peace agreement. I refused, swearing never to marry.
relinquishing my title and joining the sect. Her senior sister sneered. Naturally, my decision was considered selfish. What kind of shit emperor needs to buy peace by selling his daughters? Besides, it won't last. You can only enforce peace by making things too complicated for war. So Chun Wei had learnt from watching how the internecine conflicts between martial sects and clans were resolved.
The dog emperor. Her senior sister's laugh grew fractionally kinder. Pity he died, though. That's how it's come to this point. But you gave up being a princess long ago. My mother's clan is still powerful, and my warring half-brothers want my aid, but they know it's unlikely because I've never replied to any of their letters. Failing that, they'd prefer that none of them can get me.
They'd make up a story. An epidemic, perhaps. One they had to bravely resolve. Their sister's bones found charred in the fire. So you're free. With this face? Never. Her senior sister started to walk forward, back towards the pyre. Trumway jogged up to her side. Where are you going? Elsewhere. without me the sect can safely rebuild the mountain villages have been friendly for generations they'll take you all in for a time if you're now considered dead why not come with us
Chun Wei asked. Because escape has its consequences, even decades later. Her senior sister patted Chun Wei's head. Forget me and live a good life. Something stung in Chong Wei's mind, aching. She fought the sensation as she unsung her pack, rummaging in it. Thrusting the wrapped packet she found toward her senior sister, she said, This is yours.
Make a celebratory batch of Kwe when we settle down in the mountains. No one can do it like you. Her senior sister shook her head. You know that's not true. Tromwe grit her teeth. If it's not, then I'm going to break this right now. Each time I look at it, I'll remember you, so you won't get what you want. She exerted strength on the thin molds, meaning to bend them.
They stayed stubbornly straight, even as she circulated chi to expand her strength, her bones creaking under strain. Her senior sister touched her elbow. Don't bother. You're young. Soon this too will pass. Let me go. She bowed thrice to the remnants of the sect, then turned and set off down the mountain. Tears blurred Chunwei's vision as she let go of the package.
a roar of frustration bubbling up in her throat that she didn't dare give voice to. The sect master came up behind her, picking up the package. Don't tell me you never realized what this was made out of. she said. Hmm? Chunwei wiped her tears. Meteorite steel. The sect master chuckled at Chunwei's shock. When Ayan first came to the sect, she brought a block of it.
I gather she exchanged all her wealth and jewels for such a meeting gift, invaluable for many martial sects, the best material for forging weapons. So how did it become this? Trumway said, incredulous. A block of meteorite steel would have been worth more than the land on which their sect's estate was built. I said we don't buy women, leftover or not.
She laughed and chose to have these forged. The sect master pushed the package back into Trumway's hands, grabbing her wrist as she started forward. Let her go, but- If she wants to come back, she will. Chun Wei and Shi Yan fought ten bouts to a standstill. As they parted, Shi Yan said, You've improved. So have you, Tromwe stared at her. Why Buddhism? All that talk about Dharma? Was it genuine? As genuine as anything. I, Tromwe trailed off.
She clenched her hands. I never stopped looking for you, in life and death. You were like a sister to me. Sheyin inclined her head. I gave you your Taoist name for a reason. Let go of your obsessions. Away. Return to the Nyha Bridge. Reincarnate. Why don't you? Trung Wei shot back. Because this is what I want. An existence in between life and death. One with no purpose but my own. No expectations.
No memories beyond status and gender. Becoming like one of the impermanences, Chun Wei muttered, then stared as Shi Yan nodded. You aren't serious. I thought you would have guessed when the Hei Wu Chang we met ignored me. Shi Yan reached out to pat Chun Wei on the shoulder. Her hand froze as Chun Wei dodged back. Go. Chun Wei glared at her.
I'm not reconciled. Life is so often a series of escalating disappointments, Shi Yan's eyes crinkled in indulgent amusement. I thought you should know by now, but be happy for me. Shi Yan cut in. This isn't escape. It's a form of self-immolation. If you hated your life before, then give reincarnation a chance.
The possibility of you coming back human isn't guaranteed, let alone as a woman. Shi Yan's eyes flashed. I have never regretted what I was born with. Only what other people choose to make of it. reincarnation is part of the mortal cycle of suffering which is meant to temper a soul towards nirvana i don't think it's better or worse to be human regardless of gender so why bother Here, there is already no one to make anything of anyone. And that's what you want? Shi Yan smiled. Now, I am free.
Chun Wei set her jaw stubbornly, but didn't dodge when Shi Yan reached for her. Her senior sister's calloused palm pressed over her face, even as she pushed an oil paper packet into her hands. When she regained sight, Chong Wei found herself at the foot of the Naihe Bridge, buffeted by drifting souls. Shi Yan was nowhere to be seen.
Beneath her feet, a river of memory stretched a thousand years before her and a thousand years behind her. The souls drifting past grew more translucent as they crossed the bridge. disappearing into motes of light on the other side. For a heartbeat, Chun Wei was tempted to turn back, to give in to stubbornness. The longer she stood still, the more the details began to fade. Her temper.
the confrontation. She blinked, shaking her head as the Nyha Bridge began to enact its usual price. As she took a hesitant step back, chong wei realized belatedly that she clutched a small packet within was a thin brown patterned biscuit folded into the shape of a fan she raised its translucent form to her nose but couldn't smell anything. Only when she bit a corner off did she recall its buttery, coconut-rich scent. Chewing slowly, tears pricking her eyes, Quan Wei began to walk.
Lest you forget, that was Memories of Temperance, written by Anya Ao, narrated by Catherine Chen. Anya Ao is the author of Ion Curtain, The Firebird's Tale, and Cradle and Grave. and is an Aurealis Awards finalist. Her short stories have appeared in publications such as Asimov's, Uncanny, Fantasy Magazine, F&SF, and more. Born in Singapore,
Anya has a Bachelor of Laws from Melbourne University and a Bachelor of Applied Design from Billy Blue College of Design. She lives in Melbourne with her two cats, working as a graphic designer and illustrator. She can be found at AnyaSY.com or on Blue Sky at AnyaSY. Catherine Chen is an actor and narrator based in New York.
She has narrated numerous titles for many publishers, including Macmillan, HarperCollins, and Penguin Random House. Her work spans the gamut of genres, including historical fiction, fantasy, science fiction, literary fiction, romance, and YA. Catherine is a three-time Audi finalist and has received two Earphones Awards from Audiophile Magazine for her narration.
Are you looking for Dungeons & Dragons actual play episodes that aren't four hours long and contain jokes as well as thrilling boss fights against unspeakable horrors? I'm Jane Douglas. And I'm Andy Farrance. We both play Dungeons & Dragons with our long-running D&D series, Oxventure. And we're both hosts of...
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contained herein are the heresies of radolf buntwein erstwhile monk turned travelling medical investigator join me as i study the secrets of the divine plagues and uncover the blasphemous truth that ours is not a loving God, and we are not its favored children. The Heresies of Rudolf Bantwein, wherever podcasts are available. In humanity's search for other worlds, we found something unexpected. It's a massive collection of tiny pocket realities, and each one is a story.
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