A Pug's Journey (Cultivation Starts with Breathing)

Mira's hands were steady on the wheelchair handles as she pushed Rinvara down the long, sunlit corridor. The faint whine of the wheels echoed softly in the empty space, and Rinvara's silver hair caught streaks of gold where the afternoon light filtered through the stained-glass windows.

She sat with her hands folded in her lap, her head tilted slightly to one side, humming a tune Mira didn't recognize.

Mira asked her quietly, "I have to ask… was it the right thing? Telling Grand Solar Vicar Talem you're pulling out of the succession, even going as far as pushing the narrative of your death. And yet…"

Mira's lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes flicked down to the frail figure in the wheelchair. "You still showed yourself in front of your brother."

Rinvara didn't answer right away. The tune she hummed shifted, curling into something almost like a lullaby.

Then, her voice drifted up, soft and sing-song, like a child reciting a rhyme.

"In that dark room, where the light wouldn't stay,
I felt my life draining away, day by day.
Even my heart would falter, would cease…
But they wouldn't let me die; they denied me peace.
I begged for help, I whispered, I screamed,
And no one came. Not one. Or so it seemed."

Her bandaged eyes turned toward the light slanting through the glass.

"But my adorable little brother, Pophet, came."

The melody lingered on her lips before fading. She raised one slender hand, fingers curling loosely in the air.

"Not one of my siblings came for me, though strong and able as they could be.
Didn't you say, with your own tone,
How my sweet brother stormed out alone?
Left the church and broke its chains,
Just to reach me through my pain?"

Mira's hands tightened faintly on the wheelchair's handles.

Rinvara's arms lifted above her, slow and deliberate, like she was offering herself to something only she could see. Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

"He is my savior. He is Sunmire's Light. Wouldn't you agree, Mira?"

Mira hesitated. She could feel the weight of Rinvara's presence even without meeting her gaze. The bandages over those empty sockets seemed to radiate more pressure than most people's stares.

"I…" Mira began, her throat tight. "…I do not."

Rinvara tilted her head a fraction. The humming stopped.

"But," Mira continued quickly, "I will continue to follow you as long as you allow me to finish my experiments. That was our agreement."

For a heartbeat, there was only the soft sound of the wheels and the faint hum of distant prayer from some other wing of the Basilica. Then Rinvara chuckled—a light, lilting sound that sent a shiver down Mira's spine.

"It won't matter," Rinvara said softly, almost sweetly. "Soon, you will see it too."

The wheels creaked faintly as Mira pushed her forward again, but in the back of her mind, Mira couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking beside something no longer sane.

The walk back to Rinvara's villa felt longer than the fight itself. My legs weren't shaking, but my head felt heavy, like my thoughts had been stuffed with lead.

Every step seemed to echo too loudly in the Basilica's marble corridors.

Using Claw Intent twice in succession didn't really drain that much Qi. The energy in my body still felt steady, but it had scraped something else raw. My mind felt empty right now, not in the good way.

I wanted to tell Rinvara about the duel. About how I won my fight against Gorran.

A small, almost childish part of me wanted to see her smile, to hear her approval and relief.

But when I pushed through the villa gates and stepped into the courtyard, her scent wasn't there.

There was no scent of herbal concoctions wafting out the windows. The villa was empty.

I stood there for a moment, paws planted on the sun-warmed stone, tail twitching once. She wasn't here. Maybe she and Mira went somewhere. Whatever the reason, I couldn't find it in me to linger around.

My body was tired. My thoughts were very tired. And somehow, even my claws felt tired.

So I turned and made my way back to my room.

The hallways seemed quieter than usual, though maybe that was just me. I passed acolytes who kept their heads bowed slightly longer than normal.

By the time I reached my door, all I wanted was to curl into the corner of my bed and close my eyes for the rest of the day.

Sleep came quickly.

The next morning, I returned to Rinvara's villa.

This time, she was there.

She sat near the open balcony doors, sunlight spilling across her silver hair as she toyed with the edge of a folded cloth. The faint breeze carried the smell of flowers from the courtyard.

Her bandaged eyes turned toward me before I spoke.

"Pophet," she said warmly. "You're here."

"I won," I said, my voice rougher than I expected.

"I know." Her lips curved gently. "Our littlest brother finally beat the Mountain."

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"Don't call me that."

She chuckled, soft and fond, and reached out a hand toward me. "Any injuries?"

"None."

"And Gorran?"

I shook my head. "I don't know yet. Talem hasn't said what's in store for him."

Her hand withdrew, folding neatly back in her lap. "Well, I'm glad you're safe. That's all that matters. Come up here so I can feed you the pie Mira made."

After that, life settled back into its quiet rhythm.

Sleep. Walk. Nap. Visit Rinvara. Nap. Visit Talem. Nap. Read a book. Nap again. Sleep.

The days passed slowly.

But there was one difference in my routine now.

Each night before I slept, I sat perfectly still, letting my breath slow until the sound of my heartbeat seemed distant. I let the faintest threads of Qi flow through my body.

Inhale. Circulate. Exhale. Again and again, until sleep claimed me.

A week passed before anything changed.

Somewhere in that fog of routine, a sealed missive arrived from Talem's office. Mira was the one who brought it in, setting it neatly on the small table beside Rinvara's chair. The wax seal bore Sunmire's sigil, golden sunrays curling inward like a snare.

"It's from the Grand Solar Vicar," Mira said as she slit the seal carefully with a small blade. "Sent to you, Lady Rinvara… but it was addressed to both you and Reverent Pophet."

Rinvara tilted her head slightly. "Read it aloud, please."

Mira's voice was steady as she recited the contents. "Until further notice, Gorran, the Mountain That Never Remembers, will be assigned to Sunmire's northern border. His presence there will ensure stability in the outposts and maintain vigilance against external threats. The Council recognizes the lower priority of the northern line due to its sparse activity; however, periodic surges of beasts and anomalies demand a capable heir's oversight. This assignment is indefinite, pending review."

I frowned faintly. The frozen north wasn't exactly glamorous. Most of it was wasteland, an endless stretch of jagged ice and screaming winds.

The magical creatures up there had adapted in strange, terrifying ways.

They weren't organized, weren't smart enough to be a real threat. But every few years, they gathered into a horde and slammed against the border like a mindless tide.

It wasn't a battlefield so much as a kennel that needed cleaning. In other words: the perfect place to send someone you didn't want around anymore.

A small movement broke my thoughts. It was Rinvara. A smile had crept onto her lips, soft and fleeting, but there all the same.

"What are you so happy about, Rinvara?" I asked.

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curving just a little higher. "Oh, nothing," she said in that teasing lilt she used when she was trying to sound innocent. "I'm just glad that Gorran won't be around to push you into walls or call you names anymore."

Her smile lingered a heartbeat longer before fading as Mira tucked the letter back into its envelope.

Later, as I stood to leave, Rinvara reached for something resting on the table beside her. "Wait," she said softly. "I made this for you." She pressed it into my mouth—a small plush, shaped roughly like a wolf, its fur the same silvery shade as hers in her true form. It smelled strongly of her. No, not just strongly. Almost overpoweringly..

I stared at it for a moment. But I didn't care. It was a gift from her, after all.. "Thanks," I said simply.

She smiled again, softer this time. "Keep it close, okay?"

I nodded and gently bit the plush, carrying it with me. When I got back to my room, I set it gently on the table.

It wasn't long after the last letter that another one arrived, this time not bearing the golden seal of Talem's office, but something completely different: my sister Eline.

It was addressed to me directly, which was already a bad sign, and sealed with her personal crest—a stylized pair of reading glasses flanked by two knives. I knew better than to think that it was a metaphor.

I opened it cautiously with my claws. The letter was brief but very much like her.

Dear Pophet,

I heard you beat Gorran. I'd ask why you did it, but I'm more interested in how you did. Come visit me at the Scholarchium when you can. I'd like to talk, and I could use your help. It's just a day's ride by train, nothing strenuous. Bring snacks.

With unending judgment,
Eline

I sat with it for a while before showing it to Rinvara. She was seated as usual by the balcony, sipping from a cup of some herbal blend that smelled like licorice. When I told her, her expression tightened just a little.

"You're going?" she asked, voice low.

"I'm thinking about it," I said. "It's not far."

She pouted, very slightly. "You only just got back. Now you're leaving?"

"What do you mean? I'm just going to visit her. There's a difference."

Rinvara didn't argue, but she didn't smile either. "Well… it's your decision," she said at last, folding her hands over her lap. "But don't stay too long. I'll miss you."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I just nodded.

Talem approved the trip without much ceremony.

What surprised me, though, was who he assigned to escort me.

Brother Maevin.

I hadn't seen him in years. Back when we were both younger, he'd been the one organizing our curriculum and quietly correcting professors when they misquoted scripture. He hadn't changed much. He still had that serene, faintly tired expression.

Apparently, after graduating top of his class at the university, he'd been first hired to get us up to speed with our lessons, and then he was promoted to clerical work at the Basilica.

I, of course, was very well aware of what his current position was.

He was the assistant secretary.

Not to Talem. To the assistant overseer of public records. Which, in the Basilica's hierarchy, meant he was in charge of making sure everything was in order.

He was also, by sheer coincidence, heading home for vacation, which was in the same city as the university.

Talem, in his infinite efficiency, asked if he could bring me along. In exchange, Maevin got a two-day travel voucher and a better dining stipend for his leave.

Talem really knew what people wanted.

We boarded the train the next morning.

This one was older, a bit slower, with benches that creaked and a dining cart that smelled awfully of rust. And since it was also made with Godbeasts in mind, I could comfortably sit.

Maevin didn't talk much, he was busy reading through three different manuscripts, but it didn't bother me. I didn't feel like talking either.

I watched the outside blur past the window, trees flicking by.

Eventually, the city came into view as the train creaked along its final stretch of track, steam hissing in uneven bursts beneath the carriage.

From the window, Lumineth didn't look like anything I'd seen in Sunmire before.

It was brighter somehow, with plumes of white vapor curling lazily over rooftops.

I pressed closer to the glass without meaning to.

I've only read about this place.

Lumineth wasn't old—not by Sunmire's standards. It was around three centuries ago when the Grand Solar Vicar of that era had seen a problem Sunmire's clergy didn't want to admit. The faith was behind on the times. Nations beyond the borders were innovating faster than Sunmire could kneel.

The idea was simple enough: build a city that looked outward. Create a place where theology could mingle with invention and where Sunmire's influence could reach further than its borders.

At the heart of it all was the Aurielle Conservatory. Part university, part diplomatic experiment, it drew scholars from every corner of the continent; bright-eyed foreign students eager to understand Sunmire's philosophies, and Sunmire's own scholars trying not to choke on the smoke of progress.

It wasn't just a simple ideal of education. It was an exchange. A subtle way to pull other nations closer, sharing Sunmire's Light while taking their ideas in return.

The train let out a final wheeze as it slowed into the station, the iron wheels screaming faintly against the rails. Outside, I could see plenty of scholars darting back and forth across the platforms, clutching stacks of scrolls and odd, sputtering contraptions.

The air smelled faintly of oil and roasted chestnuts.

Brother Maevin stirred beside me, slipping his manuscripts into a well-worn satchel. "First time here?" he asked without looking up.

"Yes," I said.

"You'll like it. Or hate it. One or the other."

I tightened my jaw and tried not to imagine how many times I'd be regretting this trip by the end of the day.