Threads 160 Always Winter 1

“So, you are saying that enough generations had passed for these spiders that stories of their exile had been mythologized almost entirely,” Ling Qi said blankly, descending the stony mountain gorge that lay beyond the forested vale.

“That is accurate,” Cai Renxiang agreed.

“Spirit beasts of the chitinous type are generally very short lived until mastery of Shen is achieved,” Meng Dan commented. While the main genealogy had been left inside the ring for safekeeping, he was paging through one of the other treatises found alongside it. “Two or three decades in the third realm is typical among most types.”

“And the Duchess was basically treated as…” Ling Qi continued.

“A wrathful deity,” Xia Lin said, deeply amused. “It seems that those who fled their master sensed his craven fear of justice, despite his ramblings. His own focus on past glory did him a disservice, I think.”

“So the split ended up as a kind of religious schism,” Ling Qi concluded, rubbing her forehead. “When the Hui and his original partner died, the spiders that were left split on whether they should keep following or seek forgiveness and return.”

“Miss Ling observes correctly,” Gan Guangli said. “It was a little odd to hear, but I do believe I like these fellows. I am sure that they can be integrated well!”

“Gui agrees. The spinners were much nicer!” her little brother said, each of his steps sending up puffs of dust and bouncing gravel.

Ling Qi observed the billowing cape of shimmering spidersilk thrown around Gan Guangli’s shoulders. Woven from the silk of the single fourth realm spider present, it was obviously potent even without being a proper talisman yet. There were many more such garments, Ling Qi knew, packed away in Cai Renxiang’s storage ring.

“The spirits were deeply enthusiastic in their attempts to placate their perception of her. I have no doubt that Mother will find a use for them,” Cai Renxiang said as they reached the bottom of the gorge, looking at the long, gravel-filled passage ahead. “For now, let us focus on our progress. We still have a long distance to travel yet.”

They did at that. Even in ideal conditions, they were several days out from the location that the iron sliver was drawn to. She glanced up at the cloudy sky, feeling the churning icy qi in their depths. She suspected they would not have ideal conditions.

Over the course of the next few days, they continued to travel south, and with every step, the air grew colder and the mountains bleaker. Scraggly trees and plant life gave way to tough grasses and lichens, and the caps of white on the cloud-piercing peaks of the Wall crept lower and lower.

By day, they began to face increasing snowfall and encountered valleys filled with many meters-deep white powder. Even what ground was bare to begin with grew slick with ice. It probably did not help that they were traveling in the early months of winter.

Increasingly, they began to run into minor trouble with spirits, who troubled their path until Ling Qi managed to placate or drive them off.

At night, the skies would sometimes clear, showing the sky as a twinkling tapestry of infinite blackness, undimmed by any light of civilization. But in the southern sky, they began to see something new. Ribbons and sheets of twisting color, peeking out between the southernmost mountains, danced in the sky and undulated silently and unnervingly. The first time she had spied the lights, Ling Qi had frozen still, staring blankly. The icy qi in her meridians had flared, sheathing her skin in frost and rime.

She was needed. That was what she had felt. Something terrible was happening, and she was needed.

Only Cai Renxiang’s hand on her shoulder had stopped her flying south then and there. She’d been embarrassed when she had come back to herself, but she hadn’t been the only one affected.

Cai Renxiang had been afflicted with a terrible revulsion. The others had merely been frozen in some kind of blank terror instead. They had been careful to not look directly at the lights after that.

However, as they traveled south, the weather only grew worse. Screaming winds assailed them, icy cold fit to carve a lesser cultivator’s flesh, and the falling snow was so thick that all the world became blank white nothingness, even with all of their senses. The air was thick with potent cold qi, and Ling Qi could feel powerful spirits, things comparable to her mentor, lurking in the seemingly infinite expanse.

So it was that on the third day of travel after several hours of meagre progress, they elected to make camp and prepare for negotiating passage on the next day.

***​

Ling Qi hummed softly to herself, and the howl of the blizzard stole the sound from her lips. The snow and ice crusted the hems of her gown and dusted her hair, but no more than that. The endless white expanse had been parted just a little to leave her in a pocket of calm, seated on a shelf of rock halfway up the gorge they had stopped to rest in. Below, she could feel Zhengui, his heat standing out like a beacon in the frost. He was in the center of their little camp, providing extra heat to the space closed off by the formation-inscribed cloth of their pavilion.

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The hostile weather shelter provided by the Sect was a powerful thing, shielding those inside from notice and hostile qi, as well as regulating temperature. Cultivators inside could rest and meditate without expending energy protecting themselves.

Ling Qi had elected to stay outside for now. The cold and the wind called to her, and even if she couldn’t see it, she could feel the moon shining brightly above. Even if they weren’t arts, she had so many songs to study now.

“Hah! And you were acting so uninterested before,” Sixiang teased.