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Breathe in, feel it rushing through your veins, breathe out. Breathe in, let it run free around you –but not free enough to get out of control–, breathe out. Rinse, repeat.
Eyes closed and sharp hearing. He could listen to the castanets playing tunes of bittersweet tales outside his window, smell the fragrance of spices mixed with sweet candies that little kids were desperate to get their hands into, sense the colourful kites flying to the skies over the Alchemy Commission. His mind was equally ecstatic and overwhelmed, on its way to a sensory overload that would cost him his training for the day. With a tired sigh, his eyes opened and found their way to his tutor.
“You’re losing it, Your Highness” her disappointment could be seen from aeons away. Still, it was not enough to submit him to bow his head in shame.
“I am aware, Lady Xuepu” another sigh. If he continued like that, he would surely deflate entirely and be one with the ocean breeze – deep inside of him, the idea of flying away and becoming one with the tides he was expected to oversee wasn’t as horrific as it should be. Yet that kind of freedom was but a mere dream for a high elder. “My apologies, my thoughts don’t seem to be in the right place today.”
Silence filled the room, soon to be replaced with kids laughing and street vendors promoting their latest products. The smell of salty waters called for his soul daily, that day being no exception. He felt an inexplicable uneasiness in his chest, a new longing that was building its home inside him as the days went by. Dan Feng grew accustomed to the invisible shackles of a life of duty, the cage of being untouchable and the loneliness of a facade that was imposed on him: he was nothing but the concept of ideal leadership and a spotless role model for the vidyadhara youth. Going for a stroll whenever he wanted, eating and drinking to his heart's contempt, allowing himself to make mistakes and laugh at himself after making them… such things were but utopic desires he had long given up on.
“Some alone time might be helpful,” Xuepu rose from her seat in front of him, disregarding the lack of response as she opened the door to leave the room. “Just a reminder: Your Highness should be able to get the gist of it by tomorrow to be exempt from confinement for another month.”
Once his tutor left, door closed behind her, he could finally relax. His back met the floor and one of his arms laid across his face – he was tired, he was so tired he could sleep the month away. His head was pounding, the room being lit by the brightness of his horns as the sun set and the night made its way through the streets of the Luofu. For a while, it seemed like time stopped around him and he could finally breathe . No water flowing and boiling inside him, no magic smoking his hands, just pure and fresh air.
He lifted his arm to look at his hand. The moonlight drew shadows on his black gloves as his fingers casted floating water droplets, shifting shapes until a translucent fish was swimming around his hand. His eyes explored every detail of the illusion, satisfied with the perfect resemblance he achieved. It was foolish of him to feel such happiness over something so pointless, his control over the waters went far and beyond recreating a little animal with excelling precision. It was foolish… but it was the only freedom he could have.
The tiny fish disappeared in a mist of smoke as Dan Feng stood up to sit down next to the window. Many families were coming back home after a long day of working and studying, parents hugged their children and lovers welcomed each other with loving arms. Vendors were closing their stores after a day filled with sales and healers were preparing medicine for the next day before heading back home. The moon was guarding the ship from above the same way Dan Feng did with his people – she was the only one he felt safe with. No one could or would ever know him like the moon.
Breathe in, feel it rushing through your veins, breathe out. Breathe in, let it run free around you –but not free enough to get out of control–, breathe out. Rinse, repeat.
The lesson came back to him, his mind taking him out of the emotional headspace he was dangerously close to falling into. Going back to the books Xuepu left him with, he felt like deflating yet again. The moon whispered sweet nothings to him, tempting him to let himself fall into the abyss of his own loneliness and heavy sense of responsibility. But there was no time to waste in endless sentiments, the hole in his chest could only be filled with devotion and sacrifice for his people.
Strong emotions could weaken a strong mind. A leader with a weak mind was fated to repeat the same mistakes made in past lives. He shouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t allow it.
So, he closed his eyes and he practised. His thoughts slowed down as a cascade that reached the lowest point of a river, crashing and breaking until there was nothing but quiet waves beasts could swim in. His smooth skin hardened, leaving scales as pale blue as the limitless skies over Scalegorge Waterscape on a blissful morning. Something heavy pulled him from his lower back, forcing him to regain his balance – he quickly got used to the familiar weight of his tail behind him. Raindrops washed his burden away and his arms became one with the sea above the Dragon Palace.
Breathe in, breathe out. Give up on the breeze, become one with the stream. Once you stop fearing the asphyxia, you won’t feel the drowning.
When Dan Feng opened his eyes, a silhouette he knew by heart met him on the other side of the low table. It was looking at him with an eerie stillness, its eyes darker than the deepest parts of the ocean and its body made of wavering waters. It barely had a light blue colour, most of it being translucent like the mirage echoes. It could neither speak nor move, yet he could feel its sunken eyes following him as he walked around it – Dan Feng wondered if his memories from this life could look so detailed one day, although deep down he knew it was impossible since all mirage echoes had similar shapes.
He stood in front of his reflection, fascinated by the outcome of his creation. Lost in his pride, he raised his hand and found himself surprised when it raised a mirrored hand. But that was the end of his moment of glory, for no matter how much control he had over cloudhymn magic, he was still learning. The silhouette melted like ice to the floor as soon as their hands touched, the wet spot soon disappearing in a mist like the fish he had created that same afternoon. He felt disappointed and hurt by how little he could do, yet proud of how much he had progressed in a single day.
A cycrane rested on his window, illuminated by the moonlight. Dan Feng’s heart twisted inside his chest again, aching for its freedom. He was made aware of his longing: he longed for the stars across the galaxies, for the future of his people, for the opportunity to make his own choices. Understanding his own pain and his own desires was the first step, coming to terms with the set of contradictions filling his mind was the next one – the hardest one. If he allowed his ambitions to take over his heart, he could make mistakes told in stories for years to come. But if he kept on doing the bare minimum, life as all of them knew it would end sooner than what the Preceptors contemplated.
It was getting late and his thoughts were all over the place. His mind was a cyclone about to wipe out all common sense out of him. He closed his books and left to his room, ignoring the guards patrolling on the hallways. The newfound technique was finally taking a toll on him, once he dropped onto his bed he felt the weariness taking over his body and his eyes closed before he could even change clothes.
That night, Dan Feng dreamed. Unlike other nights, where his dreams would be filled with memories of past lives, lost battles and forgotten feelings, that night Dan Feng dreamed of clear waters, fish that swam freely and a dragon of pale blue scales flying over a starry night.
Breathe the tides in, breathe the doubts out. Let the sea wash over your pain and start all over again. Rinse, repeat.