Within a private pavilion, trees with heavy, leaf-laden branches gently swayed in the breeze, sending cherry blossoms swirling through the air. The delicate pink petals floated on the still water of a koi pond, sending small ripples across its glassy surface, while bright, opalescent leviathans swam leisurely in its depths.
The picturesque scene was observed by the pavilion's caretaker and sole inhabitant. Sitting on a padded cushion to cradle his aching bones, Silva's clouded gaze took in every detail of the garden. Not by sight but by memory, the feeling of shoveling through the dirt with his hands, unable to trust a trowel around delicate hair like roots. The pressure on the blades of his pruning scissors just before cutting through the branch of a bonsai. The rough feeling of twine through his once nimble fingers as he secured a graft. Over the course of his hundred years of life, Silva had accumulated many memories of his garden, his world.
Closing his eyes, Silva allowed his other senses to take over, attuning himself with the earth and heavens. Despite his eyes being closed, the world around Silva lit up as he sensed the trace amounts of Qi, the vital energy of the heavens, in everything around him. For most seeking to pursue the ultimate truth, the next step is to draw the Qi into their dantian through their meridians and Qi pathways, the foundation of any cultivation technique.
But Silva had only attempted to cultivate once against the advice of his father, when he was younger and his ambition still burned bright. The attempt nearly killed him and left Silva in a coma for three months. That was the first and last time Silva tried to cultivate, and for his foolishness, he had been cursed with a constant agonizing pain.. Even now, after decades of living with the pain, Silva could only barely tolerate the agony.
The source of his pain, an insidious, incurable poison that attacked both his physical and spiritual body. By all logical explanations, Silva shouldn't have survived the poisoning, seeing as he was just a baby when an assassin had infiltrated the clan and stuck him with a needle. But Silva had lived, but was crippled beyond what any healer or alchemist could repair or cure.
Though all were able to identify that the poison lingering in his pathways would turn any Qi that it came into contact with into a deadly toxin. That diagnosis had sealed Silva's fate, confining him to the life of a mortal.
Letting out a wistful sigh through his nose, Silva opened his eyes and, despite his situation, smiled. He had come to accept his fate and made peace with it many years ago, finding other joys to give his existence meaning and fulfillment.
Looking out at his garden, Silva felt a bout of weariness spread throughout his body; they had been coming more and more frequently in the past months.
'I guess it is getting to be about that time,' Silva thought absently, though before he could lose himself, there was a soft knock on the sliding door behind him.
"Enter."
The door opened, revealing a tall woman in a servant's attire who bowed slightly before addressing Silva, "Master Silva, the Patriarch is here to see you."
Silva's wispy eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, "My father? He must be planning to enter closed-door training soon."
Placing his hands on his knees, Silva grunted as he stood up before turning to look up into Serena's steady yellow eyes that stood out even in the sunlight. Serena had been gifted to Silva by his father when he turned twenty, as a personal servant to attend to all his needs.
Silva, however, had never taken advantage of the suggestive proposition about just what his needs could include, even though Zhuli's striking appearance made her unparalleled beauty. She had dark skin the color of charcoal with regal facial features, a strong nose, high cheekbones, and tender lips. Features that clashed with her mane of wild hair, from which two large ears stuck out the top, her predatory eyes capable of seeing through the deepest dark, and the long tail fur covered tail that never seemed to rest, providing a dynamism to the normally stoic beastkin.
Without prompting, Zhuli offered her arm to Silva, who wordlessly accepted as they walked back into the house, closing the door to the garden behind them.
Eventually, after a short walk, they arrived in front of a set of double doors. Knowing this was the furthest she could go, Zhuli let go of Silva's arm, allowing him to walk stiffly forward on his own. Opening one of the sliding doors, Silva slipped into the room, but not before shooting Zhuli a thankful smile.
Closing the door, Silva turned around, his smile widening as he found a middle-aged man dressed in silken robes dyed a bright red with golden embroidery sitting across a low table. His salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back into a tight bun held in place with a golden pin.
Silva bowed, bending as far as his body would allow, "This one greets Patriarch Buhara."
The man smirked, "Enough of your antics, come sit and have a talk with your father."
Smirking, Silva shuffled over to the table. He slowly lowered himself onto the cushion, ignoring the pained look in his father's eyes at his lack of mobility, a look that he quickly concealed once Silva was seated, "I'm sorry that it's been so long since my last visit."
"You know I have always been understanding of your duties," Silva replied with a smile as he kept his gaze lowered, partly out of respect. "Besides, I consider myself quite lucky; I'm sure my brothers only receive an audience with you once in an auspicious moon."
Buhara smirked, "Perhaps, though again, your brothers, understandably, have other motives for seeking an audience with me."
"Challenging the heavens and pursuing the Dao requires ambition," Silva explained with an understanding tone.
"As always, you are wise beyond your years, my son."
The compliment made Silva smile ruefully, "Maybe from your perspective, Father, but in the eyes of a mortal, I am ancient. While I may not have traveled much beyond the walls of this private manor, I am not unaware."
The smirk across Buhara's lips faltered, "Silva, you know there are longevity treasures that could prolong-"
Silva raised a hand, stopping his father mid-sentence, "Father, please, I have made peace with my fate a long time ago, this life has not been kind to me, but you have always ensured my needs have been met, and my life, limited as it is, is enjoyable. Prolonging it would only draw out the inevitable and end my life on a sour note."
For a long moment, it seemed like Buhara wanted to object, but in the end, he let out a small sigh, "You'd think after a thousand years I would grow used to the effects of time."
"Time does not make one unfeeling; it only tempers our ability to process what life throws at us," Silva replied sagely, pausing a minute before moving on, "There must be a reason that you wished to talk."
Buhara didn't reply for a moment, clearly wanting to avoid the impending conversation,"At the latest city auction, the Clan secured a powerful fire attuned treasure. It is most likely my last hope to gain the insight needed to complete my comprehension of law…That being said, it will take me at least ten years to break through."
The silent meaning behind Buhara's words did not go over Silva's head; it was the unsaid message he had been waiting for.
"I am confident you will succeed and overcome your bottleneck, Father," Silva replied with a broad smile, "With your rebirth, you will lead our Clan into yet another age of prosperity."
Buhara nodded, though his enthusiasm for Silva's praise was limited as an unspoken final farewell passed between father and son. Then, without a word, Buhara stood folding his hands within the long sleeves of his robe, "Thank you for allowing this old man to vanquish his internal demons."
Silva dipped his head, "It is the very least I could do as a son."
---
Easing himself into bed, Silva let out a sigh as the silken sheets and downy mattress alleviated the pressure on his weary body.
"Is everything alright, Master Silva?" Zhuli asked from her post by the door her final duty before retiring for the night herself.
Silva smiled, "Everything is as it should be, Zhuli…though could you open the window, I'm feeling quite warm."
The beastkin dipped her head before moving to fulfill Silva's request, opening a window on the wall next to him, letting a cool night's breeze drift through the bedroom. "Thank you, Zhuli, that will be all for today."
"Goodnight, Master Silva," Zhuli said quietly before leaving the room without a sound.
Silva waited a moment before he reached under his pillow, pulling out two pieces of paper. The first was a small square that Silva carefully unfolded, revealing a small pile of finely ground powder. Shaping the square into a tube, Silva funneled the powder into his mouth, swirling it around before swallowing. The sharp metallic taste made Silva wince, though a chilling numbness quickly spread through his mouth.
Feeling his body become sluggish, Silva carefully folded his hands onto his chest with the second piece of paper, a folded letter, resting between. Looking out the window, Silva took his final breath, inhaling the scent of cherry blossoms and listening to the bonsai sway.