Whispers in the Dark

Darkness. Then voices, filtering through the veil of unconsciousness.

"...unprecedented... shadow cultivation..."

"...impossible, the Shadow Arts were purged centuries ago..."

"...the Obsidian Scrolls mentioned a meridian that exists in negative space..."

"...think of what the Crimson Lotus Alliance would do if they discovered..."

"...reminds me of the legends of the Night Dragon Sect before their eradication..."

"...shadow assassins were said to move between realms using similar techniques..."

"...forbidden knowledge sealed after the Dragon Emperor's fall..."

Fragments of conversation swirl around me as I drift in and out of awareness. I try to open my eyes, but my body refuses to respond. The voices continue, growing more heated.

"We should eliminate the risk now, while he's unconscious."

Master Zhu's voice cuts through the others: "He is my disciple. I will take responsibility."

"Your disciple?" A sharp laugh. "Elder Zhu, you abandoned him to his fate. Now fate has found him instead."

"Enough." The Sect Master's voice silences all others. "This discussion serves no purpose. What manifested was indeed shadow cultivation—arts not seen in the Eastern Realms since the Sundering Wars. Whether this is blessing or curse remains to be determined."

"Sect Master, the historical accounts are clear. The last Shadow Cultivator nearly destroyed the Three Provinces with his Dragon Legion. The Imperial Decree forbids—"

"I am well aware of the history, Elder Wei. Nevertheless, we face a new reality. Lin Feng has awakened something ancient, something that predates even our Sacred Lotus Sect."

Silence follows this pronouncement. Then, a new voice, unfamiliar and rough: "What of the spirit bird? Its presence cannot be coincidence."

"Indeed," the Sect Master replies. "A Midnight Oriole, servant to the Shadow Emperor of old. We thought them extinct since the Dragon Emperor's purge."

"It chose him," Master Zhu says softly. "Just as the shadow meridian chose him."

"Or perhaps," says the rough voice, "they were always meant for each other. His dantian wasn't shattered—it was waiting."

Waiting? The word echoes in my mind. Waiting for what?

I struggle again to open my eyes, fighting against the heaviness that pins me down. This time, my eyelids flutter open.

I lie on a stone altar in a circular chamber I've never seen before. The walls are covered with ancient inscriptions and faded murals depicting figures cloaked in darkness facing warriors wreathed in golden light. Above me, instead of a ceiling, there is only open sky—night has fallen during my unconsciousness, and stars glitter like cold fire.

Around the altar stand eight figures in the formal robes of the sect's highest elders. Master Zhu is among them, his face lined with worry. The Sect Master stands at my head, his expression unreadable. On my chest, the spirit bird—the Midnight Oriole—rests with its eyes closed, as if in meditation.

And there is a ninth figure, standing apart from the others. He wears simple black robes without any sect insignia, his face half-hidden by a hood. Even in the dim light, I can see the scars that crisscross the visible portion of his face.

"He wakes," this stranger announces before I've made any sound or movement.

All eyes turn to me.

"Lin Feng," the Sect Master addresses me directly, "do you understand what has happened?"

I try to speak but manage only a croak. Master Zhu steps forward with a jade cup filled with water infused with spiritual energy. I drink gratefully, feeling strength return as the liquid courses through me.

"I... destroyed the Meridian Pillar," I finally say. "I didn't mean to."

"The pillar can be replaced," the Sect Master says dismissively. "What concerns us is what caused its destruction. The energy you manifested—do you know what it is?"

I hesitate. Should I tell them about the meteor, the strange voice, the shadow meridian that now flows through me? But they've been discussing it already—they know more than I do.

"Something... filled the emptiness in my dantian," I admit. "Not spiritual energy, but something else. Something that feels like... like shadow given form."

The hooded stranger steps closer, and I notice that he moves without sound—not even the whisper of his robes against the stone floor betrays his movement.

"Show us," he commands.

I sit up slowly, the Midnight Oriole hopping onto my shoulder. The elders back away cautiously, forming a wider circle around the altar.

I look down at my hands, calling forth the strange energy that now resides within me. The shadow meridian responds instantly, more eagerly than before. Cool darkness flows through my channels, collecting in my palms where it becomes visible as a shifting darkness deeper than the night around us. Not merely absence of light, but something that actively consumes illumination.

The hooded stranger makes a sharp gesture, and suddenly his own hand is wreathed in similar darkness. The two energies reach toward each other like magnets of opposite poles, creating a bridge of shadow between us.

"Impossible," one of the elders whispers.

"No," the stranger says, withdrawing his hand and breaking the connection. "Inevitable. The cycle returns as it must. Light rises, shadow follows. The ancient balance reasserts itself."

The Sect Master sighs deeply. "Lin Feng, what you have awakened is an art thought long extinct in our realm. The cultivation of shadow—the counterbalance to our sect's light-based techniques."

"In the age before the Sundering Wars," Master Zhu continues, "cultivators followed many paths. Some pursued fire, earth, water, or wind. Others followed the path of light, like our Sacred Lotus Sect. And some..." he glances at the hooded stranger, "some followed the path of shadow."

"The Shadow Cultivators were formidable," another elder adds. "They could move unseen between places, command darkness itself, and even bend the laws of reality in subtle ways. But power corrupts. The last great Shadow Cultivator raised an army—the Dragon Legion—and nearly conquered the Three Provinces before being defeated."

The hooded stranger makes a derisive sound. "History written by the victors. The Shadow Emperor sought balance when the light grown too dominant. The Dragon Emperor feared what he could not control and orchestrated the purge of all shadow arts."

"Regardless," the Sect Master interrupts, "those arts have returned in you, Lin Feng. The question is what we do now."

I look from face to face, seeing a range of emotions—fear, curiosity, calculation, and in Master Zhu's case, concern.

"What... what does this mean for me?" I ask, my voice stronger now.

"It means," the hooded stranger says, pulling back his hood to reveal a face mapped with scars like a chart of unknown constellations, "that you have two choices: learn to control this power, or be destroyed by it."

"And who are you to tell me this?" I demand, sudden anger rising within me. The shadow in my palms grows darker, responding to my emotion.

The man smiles, an expression that does nothing to soften his fearsome appearance. "I am Kai Shan, last disciple of the Night Dragon Sect. I have waited a very long time for someone like you to appear."

The name strikes a chord within me. The Night Dragon Sect—mentioned in the whispers I heard while unconscious. Supposedly eradicated centuries ago.

"Impossible," I echo the elder's earlier disbelief. "That sect was destroyed."

"Not destroyed," Kai Shan corrects. "Hidden. Waiting. Just as your shadow meridian waited within your shattered dantian."

The Midnight Oriole on my shoulder trills softly, seeming to confirm his words.

"The bird recognized the potential in you," Kai Shan continues. "These creatures are drawn to those with affinity for shadow arts. They served as messengers and scouts for the Night Dragon Sect in the old days."

I remember how the bird appeared immediately after my transformation, how it stayed with me despite my attempts to shoo it away.

"The Sect Master and I have reached an agreement," Kai Shan says, glancing at the impassive face of Feng Yuzhe. "I will train you in the basic control of your shadow arts, enough to ensure you don't accidentally kill yourself or others. In exchange, the Sacred Lotus Sect will not... eliminate the potential threat you represent."

My blood runs cold at his casual mention of my potential elimination. I look to Master Zhu, whose averted gaze tells me this was indeed discussed as an option.

"Do I have any say in this?" I ask.

"Of course," the Sect Master replies smoothly. "You may refuse training and leave both sects, taking your chances alone in a world that has historically shown little mercy to shadow cultivators. Or you may accept Kai Shan's tutelage and perhaps find purpose in your new abilities."

Not much of a choice.

"How long?" I ask Kai Shan.

"Three months," he replies. "Long enough to determine if you have the discipline to control what flows within you."

"And after that?"

A ghost of a smile crosses his scarred face. "After that, perhaps you might be interested in meeting others who walk the same path."

Others? There are more shadow cultivators?

Before I can ask, the Midnight Oriole launches from my shoulder, circling the chamber once before flying straight up into the night sky. As it passes through a shaft of moonlight, its form seems to shimmer and elongate momentarily—for just an instant, it appears not as a bird at all, but as a small, serpentine shape with scales that catch the light.

My eyes must be playing tricks on me.

"Your bird seems eager to begin," Kai Shan observes. "What say you, Lin Feng? Will you embrace the shadow that has chosen you?"

I look down at my hands, where the darkness has faded but not disappeared entirely. Just yesterday, I was a failed disciple facing expulsion and a life of mediocrity. Now...

"I'll train with you," I decide. "But I want answers. Real answers about what this power is and where it comes from."

"All in good time," Kai Shan promises, though something in his tone suggests I may not like all the answers when they come. "We begin tonight. The shadow arts are best practiced when darkness is ascendant."

The Sect Master nods once. "It is decided. Lin Feng will train under Kai Shan's supervision in a secure location. Elder Zhu will oversee the arrangement."

"And my status in the sect?" I dare to ask.

"Suspended," the Sect Master replies without hesitation. "You are neither expelled nor accepted until we see the results of this... experiment."

One by one, the elders file out of the chamber, leaving only Master Zhu, Kai Shan, and me. Master Zhu approaches, placing a wrinkled hand on my shoulder.

"I failed you, Lin Feng," he says quietly. "I assumed your cultivation was irreparable, when perhaps it was simply... different."

"You did what you could, Master," I reply, surprised to find I mean it. The bitterness that has defined me for years seems less potent now, diluted by the strange new reality I face.

"Be careful," he warns, glancing at Kai Shan. "The shadow arts were forbidden for good reason. They change those who practice them."

"All power changes its wielder," Kai Shan interjects. "Your light-based cultivation is no different—it simply changes in ways your sect finds acceptable."

Master Zhu doesn't argue the point. With a final squeeze of my shoulder, he too leaves the chamber.

Alone with Kai Shan, I suddenly feel vulnerable. This scarred stranger claims to be from a sect thought extinct for centuries. Can I trust anything he says?

"You have questions," he states matter-of-factly. "Ask them as we walk."

He moves toward a section of wall that appears solid until he places his shadow-wreathed hand against it. The stone ripples like water, revealing a hidden passage.

"Our first lesson," he explains, gesturing for me to follow. "Shadow cultivators are masters of finding paths where others see only barriers."

I hesitate at the threshold of the passage. Once I step through, I commit to this path.

"The Midnight Oriole," I say, looking up at the night sky where the bird vanished. "For a moment, it looked like..."

"Yes?" Kai Shan prompts when I trail off.

"Like a dragon," I finish, feeling foolish even as I say it. "A tiny dragon."

Instead of mocking me, Kai Shan's expression turns serious. "Your eyes are adapting to your new nature faster than I expected. Good. You'll need that perception in the days ahead."

"You mean it was a dragon?"

"The Midnight Orioles are distant cousins to the Shadow Dragons of old—diminished, but of the same lineage. They serve as eyes and ears for beings far greater than themselves."

A chill runs down my spine. "Beings like what?"

Kai Shan's scarred face reveals nothing. "That is a lesson for another time. Come. The night grows deep, and there is much to learn before dawn."

With one last look at the star-filled sky, I step into the shadow passage, leaving behind the Sacred Lotus Sect and everything I thought I knew about cultivation.

The wall seals behind us, and darkness embraces me like a long-lost friend.