The authorities had been notified three days ago. Master Jian's report to the local sect representatives had been thorough and grim: two demons of Dream Architect and Thoughtshaper level, an entire region's defensive network compromised, and civilian evacuations already underway.

  The response had been immediate.

  Teams of Oneiric Sovereigns had been dispatched to the Thornwood Deep to assess and contain the damage in the affected areas.

  Tian had responded to their questions in a daze. Yes, he had seen both demons. No, he had not seen Hongyun's body after he fell. Yes, Master Jian had defeated the demons. He knew better than to mention the amulet.

  The investigators were impressed by his composure; they had commented that he had shown remarkable resilience in the face of such trauma. They hadn’t looked closely enough to see that the resilience he showed was just shock in disguise.

  For three days, Tian had existed in a grayish haze that made everything seem remote and unreal. He ate when Master Jian told him to eat; he walked when they needed to travel; he talked when someone talked to him. Inside, however, he felt hollow; it was as if someone had reached inside his chest and pulled out a vital organ, leaving only empty space where his friend Hou's presence used to be.

  The hardest thing was not that he missed Hou; it was that the grief felt familiar. It was as if losing someone dear was not a new experience, but an old wound being reopened. At times he would find himself thinking Hou was going to make one of his witty remarks at a campsite by evening firelight, only to realize with a fresh wave of sorrow that there would be no more campfire banter, no more quips about Master Jian's philosophy, no more quiet moments when they understood each other without needing to speak.

  “You need to eat more than that,” Master Jian said on the third night as he watched Tian pick listlessly at a bowl of rice.

  They had made camp in a stand of silver bark trees near the village of Three Stones, awaiting the completion of the sect investigators’ work. The villagers of Three Stones had been evacuated to temporary shelters; their homes had been left unattended until the spiritual contamination created by the presence of the demons could be properly cleansed.

  “I’m not hungry,” Tian replied, placing his chopsticks down.

  “Hunger has nothing to do with it. Your body will take fuel whether you choose to give it or not.” Master Jian’s voice was once again the voice of the pragmatic teacher, but Tian detected an undertone of concern that had not been present before. “Hongyun would not have wanted you to waste away over his sacrifice.”

  The mention of Hou’s name sent a spasm of pain through Tian’s chest, followed by something else – anger, and anger that was sharp and unexpected.

  “Don’t,” Tian said softly. “Don’t tell me what he would have wanted.”

  Master Jian examined him with those eyes that normally seemed unremarkable yet saw much more than they normally should.

  “Then tell me what you believe he would have wanted,” Master Jian said.

  Tian stood silent for a long time, staring into the dancing flames of their campfire.

  Finally, he spoke, and each of his words sounded fragile as glass.

  “He would have wanted to see what came next. He had a fascination with the future, with what we might make of ourselves, what path our travels might take. He had a way of making even the most ordinary villages seem interesting, finding stories in places I only saw as routine.” Tian’s fists clenched. “He would have wanted to see me find out who I really am instead of just wandering aimlessly through life pretending to understand anything.”

  “And what will you do about that?”

  The question sat suspended in the air between them like a challenge.

  Master Jian looked at him with a facial expression Tian had never seen before, it wasn’t the detached assessment he made of sword work, nor the approving gaze of a teacher towards a student. It was something akin to hope.

  “I don’t know,” Tian admitted. “I don’t know how I’ll discover the answers to the questions I don’t even know how to ask.”

  “Perhaps the questions will come by themselves with time,” Master Jian said, poking at the campfire with a stick and causing sparks to shoot upward into the rapidly darkening sky. “Anyway, you achieved Dream Disciple status two nights ago. That doesn’t happen through regular grief.”

  Tian nodded, although he still didn’t quite grasp his new powers. He’d sensed delicate strands of silvery energy dancing around his body, reacting to his emotions and half-conscious intentions with a hunger that felt simultaneously familiar and foreign.

  “What can Dream Disciples actually do?” he asked. “I know the theory from all the books I’ve read, but theory and practice….”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  ”Are very different things,” Master Jian completed. “Dream Disciples work within the area between the real world and the realm of dreams. They can enter shared dreamscapes, influence the sleeping minds of others, and most importantly for your current situation, they can explore their own subconscious through controlled dreaming.”

  Master Jian placed the stick on the ground and turned to face Tian directly.

  “The dreams you had as a child, the ones about mountains and blue-robed cultivators, those were not random images. Those were memories trying to resurface, experiences your conscious mind was unable to access but your dreaming self could glimpse.”

  “Memories of what?” Tian asked. “I’ve never visited any mountain sect or seen those people before.”

  “Haven’t you?” Master Jian’s tone contained a subtle challenge. “Or is it possible that this life isn’t the only life you’ve lived?”

  This possibility sent a shiver down Tian’s spine. He had speculated about many possible explanations for his bizarre dreams and intuition throughout his life, but the idea that they were memories of another existence was both terrifying and strangely reassuring.

  “How would I know? If that’s what they are, I mean.”

  “You learn to practice controlled dreaming. You intentionally induce the dream state with awareness that you’re dreaming and then follow the flows of memory and experience that have drawn you since childhood.” Master Jian’s demeanor was serious. “However, you must understand the risks. If these memories belong to someone else, someone who was killed violently or with unfinished emotional business, gaining access to them could alter your fundamental nature. You could gain insight, but you could also lose yourself in the process.”

  Tian weighed the risk against the chance of finally figuring out who he really was. Losing himself was frightening, but not as frightening as spending the remainder of his life wondering who he was meant to be.

  “I want to try,” he said eventually. “Because if I don’t, I’ll always wonder whose life I’m living.”

  Master Jian nodded, though his countenance was worried. “We’ll need to prepare properly, however. Controlled dreaming requires special conditions and protective measures. And Tian…” He paused and met his student’s eyes. “If you discover anything in those dreams that changes everything, remember that Hongyun believed in the person you are today. Do not lose that completely in search of who you may have been.”

  Tian nodded simply.

  ***

  The morning after Tian had agreed to attempt to use controlled dreaming was bright and clear, with the type of crisp mountain air that generally helped lift his mood. Today, however, he felt only anxious anticipation as Master Jian prepared the controlled dreaming setup.

  “Remember, the key is to be aware that you are dreaming and allow your conscious mind to drop into the dream state,” Master Jian said as he carefully positioned meditation cushions in a specific arrangement. “You will be acting as an observer. Don’t try to manipulate the dream.”

  Tian sat down on the central cushion and felt the small energy fluctuations as the formation flared to life.

  “What if I forget I’m dreaming?” Tian asked. “What if I become lost in whatever I see?”

  “The formation will monitor your spiritual fluctuations,” Master Jian said. “If you become dissociated or lose yourself in the dream space, I’ll wake you.”

  The meditation began as any other: controlled breathing, slowly decreasing heart rate, and dropping into the deeper rhythmic cycles leading to sleep. However, as Tian slid downward into the dream state, he felt something was different – currents. These were streams of memory and experience that seemed to originate from somewhere outside of his normal awareness.

  He pursued the strongest of the currents and found himself in what appeared to be a colossal natural amphitheater.

  The scene unfolded around him with a surprising amount of clarity.

  Thousands of people were sitting in tiered seats rising upward like mountains surrounding a central arena floor. There was an electric quality to the air as they all gathered to witness something important. Banners were flapping in the breeze and displaying emblems he somehow knew were connected to symbols he had seen before: a stylized representation of a mountain peak surrounded by cloud, signifying the territory of Azure Peak Sect.

  On the arena floor below, two young men stood facing each other across a circular formation marked with lines. One had dark hair and calm eyes; his simple outer disciple robes seemed to make him appear more impressive than less. The other had brown hair, pale skin, and eyes that seemed to take in every detail of their environment with unconscious precision.

  Tian felt a jolt of recognition so intense it threatened to shatter his dream state. These were the faces from his childhood nightmares, aged, but unmistakably the same. The dark-haired young man had always seemed to be in a somber mood, yet determined. The other one who had appeared in his dreams as both friend and enemy, complicated emotions swirling around their relationship.

  As Tian watched, the dark-haired cultivator bowed his head in formal greeting.

  “Wu Kangming,” he said.

  “Ke Yin,” the other replied, returning the bow. “May the best cultivator win.”

  The names confused Tian.

  They brought up a strange feeling deep inside him.

  It felt as though the names belonged to him, but how could that be possible?

  He was Tian. He wasn’t Wu Kangming or Ke Yin.

  The dream transitioned and he was carried forward through what seemed to be a complex tournament. He watched battle after battle, and both Ke Yin and Wu Kangming advanced through increasing difficulty.

  Ke Yin always seemed to be up against unfavourable matchups, but he was able to adapt to each of his opponents and somehow get the victory. As for Wu Kangming, he walked through everyone that he was matched up against. But it was their interactions between matches that interested Tian the most. Although they weren’t friends per se, they had a respect for each other that implied some sort of deeper connection.

  When Wu Kangming appeared concerned by the arrival of a beautiful Core Disciple, Ke Yin’s expression became complex, suggesting he wanted to offer some support but didn’t know how to proceed. And when Ke Yin encountered an opponent far more powerful than he in terms of sheer force, Wu Kangming watched with an intensity that suggested he had a stake in the outcome of the battle.

  The dream finished with both of them having to defeat their closest friend.

  The battle took place in what appeared to be a world constructed of living crystal.

  They both walked out victorious.

  What was strange was that Tian could almost hear his own name being declared the winner.

  It was like watching his own memories being played out by actors that didn’t look like him at all.

  Even then, he still wasn’t sure which identity belonged to him.

  Next chapter Tian discovers his identity!

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