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“With the wings of the swan spread wide, they soared over the tree-tops, cradling a girl, journeying beyond the fog-capped mountains towards a distant realm, their appearance unchanged. Oh God, oh God, please show me a way to aid them,” she lamented.

And the whisper, unmistakably not divine yet holding the answer, spoke.

“May you possess courage and patience, so that you may gain your freedom.”

“Look upon that water. Softer than your delicate hands, but do you not see how it carves through stone? The reason is simple: water feels no pain and possesses no soul. Yet you, fashioned by a deity, must surely bear a soul, and thus, your pain will be vivid. You must endure it. Even if your fragile limbs are torn and blood flows, even if blisters rise upon your hands and feet, you must persist and demonstrate your patience, showing the courage to continue despite the agony.”

Thoughts resonate.

Uncertain whether the thoughts belong to a man or a woman.

Yet they are not vague; they contain a firm message.

The voice, devoid of any emotion, delivers its content without adornment, prompting Ella to feel as if she were hearing some TTS (Text to Speech) technology reciting words.

“What… is this…?”

She couldn’t say.

But she sensed that something was amiss.

Ella instinctively realized that something peculiar and strange had transpired, and she also recognized that she could never resolve this situation.

The phenomenon she witnessed seemed to have no relation whatsoever to witchcraft.

Though Asha’s powers might be peculiar and alien, they should still emanate a life force when utilized, since they were based on witchcraft. But this occurrence burst forth from thin air without any precursor, any flow of energy.

“This is….”

Ella has an inkling of what this bizarre and inscrutable ability could be.

No, at the very least, she could venture a guess.

A strange, elusive, and grotesque power.

“Magic…?”

This is definitely magic.

“…Sister.”

Ella gazed at Asha, who lay with her eyes closed as if in sleep.

For reasons she could not comprehend, Anastasia resembled a sacrificial offering laid upon the altar.

The offering.

The altar.

Then,

Where is the flame that shall guide Anastasia to the gods?

* * *

All things in this world embark on a journey from birth to death. Just as the birth of the universe emerged from a tumultuous explosion, leading everything towards a cold, inevitable end, it is evident that eternity does not exist for all things.

Even the vast and seemingly endless universe has its limits clearly demarcated. If it can be concluded that there is an end, then where does immortality exist? Nothing in the laws of the universe or the endless flow of time can be defied.

“Even if one calls themselves a god, a prophet, or a transcendent being, there is no assurance that we will escape death.”

Thus, what futile struggle can be found in seeking to evade an inevitable end?

“We use the term ‘lifetime’ to describe our existence.”

An end is inevitable.

It is frightening but inescapable.

“However, from the perspective of the Earth, our lives amount to mere fleeting moments. If we liken the entirety of humanity’s history to Earth’s 24-hour span, it barely exceeds one minute. We refer to that minute as the history of our species while living a moment that, with a few zeros attached, may be no more than a mere blink, daring to dream of eternity and immortality.”

Birth and death.

What we can perceive as the grandest of concepts.

Even the universe cannot escape it.

“How many have sought to leave a legacy through achievements to attain immortality? How many have struggled to cast off their human shells to become something new? How many sought worship as gods?”

If birth and death are inevitable, does that render everything else worthless?

“We plant seeds in the ground and reap the harvest. Yet we do not declare the growth, the blossoming, and the spreading of fragrance to be worthless. As we nurture the growing plants, admire the colors of their fresh leaves, delight in the beauty of their vibrant blooms, and savor their scent, we find value in them. Surely, the process is evidently aimed at bearing fruit, but we won’t deem it as ‘unnecessary and therefore dispensable.’

Our lives are just like that.”

If birth and death are inevitable, does the process itself lack value?

If we must start from a single point and inevitably reach a destination, does that render everything else devoid of value?

If that were true, how would the universe continue to function?

The process that exists between beginning and end is what truly matters.

It embodies the essence of existence and represents their value.

Even if it is but a tiny sand dune that might crumble under a single weak wave, we cannot claim it to hold no meaning.

“What humanity calls immortality merely amounts to living a little longer. What they label as immortality is nothing more than remaining a memory for a while longer or becoming somewhat more solid. That which is called eternity by humans is akin to voicing the unknown, lacking true understanding, which is utterly far-fetched. Nevertheless, to call that endeavor a fruitless struggle would fail to recognize that those processes themselves hold value.”

Therefore, to strive is also our innate nature.

“If the instinct of all things is to postpone death, then seeking a method to do so is only natural. Just as water desires to circulate longer, as the wind wishes to flow longer, as the fire aims to burn longer, we too resist reaching an end. I am no different; my yearning to unite with the One and transcend the cycle arises from the same truth.”

Like a flame yearning for firewood.

Yearning to burn fiercely forever.

Wishing that the heat and light it emits endure through eternity.

Even if that intensity wanes, the spark remains, hoping to ignite again whenever firewood arrives.

The flame begins with a spark, leaving ash in its wake.

But who among us would foolishly attribute all value to the spark while dismissing the ash?

Fire has value in itself.

To consume something, radiate light and heat, holds inherent worth.

Our lives are exactly that.

In the passage of time, we burn through something, shining light and heat around us. Sometimes it’s too intense, causing distress to our surroundings, but we will not hesitate to become blazing flames, bringing warmth and light to illuminate the darkness, making the world bright. We will live this way, burning brightly, inevitably fading when the end arrives.

What remains at that end could be ash or charcoal.

Or perhaps a shining diamond.

However, no matter what is left at the end, we must never forget that we are flames.

If we obsess over what remains after the flame has extinguished, we cannot be the true flames we are meant to be.

Just as the flame is valuable in itself, we ought to affirm our existence, dedicate ourselves to those around us, and assist others as we live.

Even that which seems painful will lead us down the path to merge our spark into the grandest of flames.

“Do not fear becoming firewood. Do not fear becoming a burning flame. Whether a flame that endures long or one that bursts forth fiercely and fades quickly, we all call ourselves ‘flame.’ And if the divine is the greatest of flames, then we too are worthy to integrate into it.”

As a small fire joins a great blaze to burn fiercely.

United with the divine, we shall certainly achieve this.

“Brothers of faith! Brothers in the land of the arrogant who call themselves the center of the world! Etch ‘Kara’ in your minds and raise ‘Kirpan’ in your hearts.”

* * *

“Once, there was a sage named Yangzi. One day, driven by curiosity from the commotion next door, he asked a servant what was happening, and the servant replied that people were searching for a runaway sheep.

After a while, the people returned weary, and upon seeing them, Yangzi inquired if they had found the sheep. The people replied despondently that there were too many paths, and thus, they could not find the sheep and had to turn back.

Yangzi, upon hearing their response, gained some insight and fell silent, growing despondent. When his disciple, confused by this demeanor, asked the senior scholar, Xinduzi, why the master was like this, the senior replied that just as one loses a sheep with so many paths, a scholar, learning from many, loses their essence; but by returning to one fundamental truth, they neither gain nor lose anything. It was a sense of regret that prevented him from speaking because reality did not align with this notion.”

This tale is drawn from the story in Liezi (列子) “Shuofu” (說符), and thus the idiom ‘Daqimangyang’ (多岐亡羊) comes from this.

Those reading this should engrave this idiom in their hearts and strive to avoid losing their way or their essence.

 

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