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Kiana heard the stories, of course. But they were just that: stories.
Accounts of people who were not looking to open up more questions. The more the story was told, the more passionless and sterile the retelling. To fulfill expectations. The dreadful would look grand, and the incomprehensible and obscure would be instantly explained.
She would find herself in a desert of the past, filled with nothing but monuments.
(Fifty thousand years ago, the story would begin.)
Far across the kingdom, towards the east where the sun would rise first, on a mountain so lush of green that it would make jade break itself in envy.
(When the nights granted no solace, and the stars hid behind a veil so black that the darkness hummed.)
Between trees that have stood so much longer than hundreds of generations of her family.
(Many stood up, but among them, one Exalted under the Heavens. One Empyrean whose fist brought Fire and Light back.)
Kiana Kaslana found her feet would carry her no further, but she had managed to reach her goal. A small house, in many ways more modern than she had expected. Grass and leaves that had managed to find their way onto the roof gave way to reveal gray tiles over a wall that must have been repaired and rebuilt many times. A small door, with few decorations around it.
Next to that house, at the peak of the mountain, staring into the distance of the deep blue sky with a vigilant gaze—
There she stood. A hero. Proud and impervious. Ashen hair blew in the wind, and Kiana lost herself in the sight.
She looked so small, not helped with the image of the statues that graced the country in honor of her deeds. Kiana opened her mouth to speak, but could not find it in her to speak words that were so quick to touch her tongue.
She swallowed, seeking out that feeling that was welling up in her chest and buried it deeper, to find something that would make all the words she had ever spoken before seem like a lie.
“Beaut-tsh—” she managed, biting on her tongue with such a force that the metallic taste of blood spread all over it. The hero turned, revealing eyes that rivaled the backdrop in their intensity.
“Ah,” the hero said. “I wasn’t expecting any guests.”
Kiana wasn’t sure how far her embarrassment could continue, but when she opened her mouth to say something and could only mumble an answer, she had the feeling there was a breadth of red-faced emotions she had not yet experienced.
The woman’s steps were light as walked from the peak down towards Kiana. Kiana bowed, but even that was difficult to commit to. It was like she could not look away, and any attempt to do so struck her like a blow to the chest.
“Hero Fu Hua,” Kiana managed to say. “It is an honor to meet you.”
“The honor is all mine,” Fu Hua said, tilting her head slightly as if in thought. Her hand reached up, a finger on her chin that slowly went up to her lower lip. Kiana continued to stare, her eyes following the motion. “Scion of the Kaslana?”
Fu Hua made it sound like a question, but Kiana could hear the certainty in her voice. Regardless, Kiana nodded. “I’ve… come to meet you.”
“It has been quite a while since someone has come by, I apologize if I’m somewhat out of practice,” Fu Hua said. “But if you wish to study, I am willing to teach—”
“No!” Kiana interrupted, perhaps a bit too quickly, and with a volume that caused many birds to fly out of the trees, darkening the sky as they traveled towards the slowly setting sun. “I—I mean, I’ve come to meet you, to— to talk.”
And how Kiana wanted to learn. Even though that woman had stood the test of time, yet not paying the debt that all humans had to pay eventually, she could see just how full of life Fu Hua was. Dreams and ambitions were buried deep in those azure eyes.
The mood wasn’t quite the same anymore, though. Fu Hua’s expression didn’t change, and yet her eyes seemed to dig into Kiana. As if her very being was laid bare, as if there were no secrets she could keep.
But Kiana Kaslana never backed down from a challenge.
“You’re not a pilgrim,” Fu Hua surmised. “Nor are you a witch hunter, or one who denies fate.”
“I want to learn.”
“But not of the things I know.”
“No,” Kiana said, swallowing and clenching a fist at her side. “I want to learn about you. To learn about Fu Hua.”
Fu Hua said nothing.
###
The inside of the home looked much older than the outside. Like a snapshot of a time long past, with furniture that could be in a museum. Kiana sat, watching as Fu Hua made tea, taking in the sights. And the house.
Eventually, they sat across each other, in between velvet curtains and a wooden table that smelled like it had just been carved from a tree minutes ago.
Fu Hua talked.
She talked, and talked, and talked.
And Kiana listened.
The story began, as always, fifty-thousand years ago.
Though the pitch of her voice never changed, there was nothing but passion in her words. The grand would look dreadful, and that which would be instantly explained became incomprehensible and obscure.
Kiana closed her eyes and found herself in a forest of monuments, and in those towering trees Fu Hua carved names. Great people, whom history had forgotten. Friends, family and loved ones.
And this, it seemed, was Fu Hua. Who carried with her stories of loss. And Kiana opened her mouth to ask, again and again, and failed to speak up. Her thoughts must have been plain to see on her face. The questions about the good memories, about the fun things, about love and not love lost.
Fu Hua’s smile reflected pain, and Kiana felt her chest tighten at the sight of it. As if her soul was clawing its way out of her body.
“It is hard, to only remember the things that hurt,” Fu Hua said. She sounded clinical about it, but not cold. Never cold. To be Fu Hua, whose name causes shadows and shades to vanish at her mere mention, there could never be the absence of warmth. “That after so many years, the most vivid memories are the ones that feel like fingertips reaching out inside my chest.”
Kiana wanted to reach out, but thought better of it.
“Eventually, when you become an ideal, you stop living for yourself,” Fu Hua explained. “And that is why I cannot end my vigil. This is who I have to be, so that everyone else can be who they want to be.”
“That’s not fair.” Kiana found herself frowning. “To not live for yourself, to be who others want you to be. And it’s not like everyone gets to be who they want either, families expect so much of you—”
She trailed off, but Fu Hua made no move to pick up the conversation, waiting for Kiana to gather her thoughts.
“Well, I don’t,” Kiana said, bringing her thoughts to a close and crossing her arms. She gave an exaggerated sniff at the air. “What does Kiana Kaslana care about who Fu Hua’s supposed to be. I quite like who she is right now.”
A strange noise emanated from the woman across the table, and Kiana found herself quickly breaking the rather over-the-top pose to blink, looking at the smiling Fu Hua.
“Did you just laugh?” Kiana asked. Fu Hua didn’t deny it, but she didn’t confirm it either. Instead, her eyes closed, with the smile slowly widening.
“I have met hundreds of thousands of people,” Fu Hua said. “Some are quite similar to each other, especially in the same families, but I don’t think I've ever met a Kaslana like you.”
“That’s a win in my book,” Kiana said, leaning back into the chair. She was trying to smile, but couldn’t quite work up the emotion for the expression. “Mom once said to me that everyone has someone that’s just… different. Someone they just can’t really understand.”
“I suppose people are quite complicated,” Fu Hua said, nodding. “Then for me, there’s you, right?”
“I pride myself on being very incomprehensible, yes,” Kiana said, nodding. Despite herself, she could feel the smile creep up her face. Her expression softened. “I don’t understand you, either. That’s why I’m here, after all.”
Fu Hua laughed, louder and more open this time.
Kiana listened.