He could sll it. Even inside its box, he could sll it— a pure dicinal scent, heavy with all the strange northern herbs that had been used in its creation and heavier still with the scent of qi. It slled magical in a way that was difficult to describe at all, much less to soone who wasn’t a cultivator. It slled like the sun. Like fire and the edge of a blade that was not a blade, and… new growth, and the very tip of a mountain where the sky scraped the earth. It was still hard to believe he was actually holding it. A pill, tailor made to his cultivation. For him…
Perhaps, back before he’d left Refuge as a refugee, it wouldn’t have surprised him so much. Now, though? As he gently opened the box… he could not help but marvel that soone cared enough to do this for him. He’d honestly never thought he’d have a pill made for him ever again.
For once, Lily didn’t interject impatiently— it was a montous occasion, and the aura of festival only added to it. The whole park was bedecked with strears and lanterns and all the other trappings of the spring festival, ready for the grand parade later in the day. For the mont, though, while the whole place would no doubt be full co the evening, for the mont tucked away from the paths in their typical little area, it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.
A faint gold mist spilled out of the open box as he finally saw the pill— and what a glorious thing it was. Even though it’d only been crafted by a Foundation Establishnt cultivator, it rivaled the best pills he’d ever seen. Its luster caught the sun and reflected motes of glittering light over the grass, its scent redoubled, the qi within it almost pulsed in response to the sunlight and his own cultivation… yes, it had all the qualities of a really good pill.
Now, all he had to do was eat it. All he had to do was break through to Opening. It would be simplicity itself, at this stage, apparently… yet, the decision still felt weighty. Beyond weighty. Carefully, he picked up the pill with a paw, never feeling more than he did in that mont how difficult it was to hold things. Dexterity long trained deserted him, but by so miracle he barely managed to bring the pill up to his mouth and—
The flavor. It tasted like gold. Like… like sunlight and dragonfire. It took all he had in him to not open his mouth and pant, instead sitting back into the position Mingtian had taught him— the position that had guided him through Shedding up to that point, and the position that would have to suffice further for a bit longer. He didn’t know any techniques to absorb such a high level pill… but that was fine. A little inefficiency was fine. He could feel the potent power of the pill, curled on his tongue like a bomb waiting to be released—
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He gave Lily a long, heavy look.
Lily nodded back.
Avyr swallowed the pill.
Imdiately he was forced to turn his attention inwards. The pill settled in his stomach like a hot coal, potent coils of energy peeling off it in long strips that dispersed into his body. At first it was tolerable, then manageable, then— after only a few seconds, it beca almost physically painful, a huge rush of qi pressing against his spirit as the tiny thing eagerly lapped it up. He gritted his teeth and cycled the energy, breathing the sa way he had atop a mountain that felt half a world and an age away in that mont, and yet so indelibly close—
In, out. Following the rhythm, that self-sa rhythm like a half-rembered mory through the hazy pain. He felt… he felt in that mont like he was a too-full balloon, or a river without a course, or a mind unembodied, or—
Too small.
As his spirit drank and drank and sloughed off the excess energy, and the pill kept fueling more, further, and the energy sloughed off was taken up again and bled through his body, his soul, he was struck by the inexplicable certainty that he was too small. It was a certainty he recognized from when he’d advanced to Shedding, but in the mont— on the edge of so vast cosmos unseen, stuck betwixt knowledge and sothing more intrinsic than knowledge— he couldn’t think of that.
All he could think of was that he was too small… and that he needed to push.
Once. His spirit shuddered, straining as it drank vast gulps of pure yang energy, as bright as sunlight and as furious as fire—
Twice. He felt like a log in a fire.
Thrice. Like the new day’s sun.
Four tis. Like the warmth of his father’s smile, and the flick of his mother’s tail, curling softly against his cheek—
Five tis. Like hope, bloated and furious and straining, always straining, always pushing forward, slinking forward, step by step inexorably stalking its— and as sothing deep inside of him curled, he could feel the weight of conviction.
One last ti, like a breath exhaling, and—
From darkness, light.
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