When he awoke, he found himself in a seated position. His hands were bound. They were in a domed room where the ceiling was set with stained glass; beyond the glass, the level of the snow pressing down upon them was clearly visible. He felt a throbbing in his ears and a hum that was difficult to decipher. Moments later, he noticed someone standing before him. Clad in green and red vestments, Byuga could distinguish that he was a monk of the Taom-Dium. While Bodhi’s yellow robes symbolized his Chang-Chao origins, these specific vestments were worn exclusively by the monks of Taom-Dium.

  The monk then rose and walked toward him. There was very little light. The Prince of Jado looked around, but he could discern nothing but two pillars illuminated by the dim light filtering through the ceiling glass. Everywhere else was draped in darkness. As the monk approached, Byuga blinked. He had been unable to resist the monk's power; once again, he felt inadequate and helpless. Nevertheless, he was glad to be there. At the very least, they had reached the monks, and he was certain that the Taom-Dium would not harm them.

  As the monk leaned toward him, Byuga lifted his head and looked directly into his eyes. The man had a harsh, cantankerous expression, looking at him as if he wanted to unravel him with his gaze—as if he could explain him. Then, he sat cross-legged opposite Byuga. Placing his hands before him, he began to speak in sign language, raising his arms as he watched the prince.

  “Why are you here, son of Jado?” After asking, he reached out slightly and unbound Byuga’s hands. Byuga tried to rub away the pain in his wrists but was unsuccessful. Afterward, he raised his own hands to respond.

  “If you know who I am, why did you attack me?”

  “The son of Chaf-Chauin told us who you were. You call him Linyun, do you not?” Byuga bowed his head in affirmation, and the monk adjusted his posture, observing him.

  “What is it you seek here?”

  “Answers.” Byuga swallowed, looking into the man’s eyes, trying to convey how desperately he needed them. “This disaster coming from the north—I have seen them. I have seen the creatures and the evils it brings with it. I want to learn how to stop it.”

  “Why should stopping it be your duty?”

  “Because I was there. Because I saw it.” Seeing that the monk did not respond, Byuga searched for the right answer. “Because it took those I love from me. Because it attempted my life. Survival is something we all do while breathing. Yet, to let others live is to truly live.”

  “What must be, shall be. You cannot step before destiny.”

  “What must be is nothing more than the triumph of the strongest will.” Byuga was well-acquainted with the monks' wordplay; he had spent his life among their dusty books and proverbs. He knew the sayings of Physius and the words of Andhou. “If the strength of my will is enough for this, then that is what must be.”

  “Then we must test your will. Is this what you desire?”

  “Yes.” Byuga was afraid of what was to come, yet he did not blink or shrink away. The monk smiled faintly, then paused, furrowing his brow.

  “Why did you bring a kardam here, to this sacred monastery that his ancestors plundered and stained?”

  “Because he protected and watched over me. He is not like the kardams you know. He is my friend. He is under the protection of the House of Jado.” His arms had grown tired, and realizing this, he lowered them. The monk looked at him.

  “You are no longer the heir of Jado, we know this. And you were not meant to come here for a long time yet.” He stood up, turned his back, and walked toward the door. “Come with me. You shall test your will. In any case, we shall welcome you; joining us was expected of you regardless. If your will exceeds ours, then we will help you find the answers you seek.”

  Byuga stood up with difficulty, but he was afraid. Many of the Taom-Dium monks were also powerful sorcerers. He did not think he could surpass their wills, let alone anyone else's. As they emerged from beneath the glass dome, he noticed that these domed halls were arranged around a circle. The central area where they stood ascended the moment the monk raised both hands. Dust rose, and as a massive stone block took flight, the Jado prince gripped the floor to avoid falling. During their ascent, he suddenly saw windows on both sides. Through the glass, he could see the blizzard intensifying outside. Everything was white; everywhere was winter.

  Then, he saw the Taom-Dium monastery—the primary structure. It was practically buried within the mountains. Various towers, balconies, and courtyards jutted out from the rock faces in places. It was so somber that the banners and hanging flags swaying around it looked as though they had been there for hundreds of years. Some were frozen stiff. The entire monastery seemed frozen in time. Byuga recalled the tales of Andarakh. This place, much like the ghost valley, stood as if paralyzed within time.

  When the stone block ceased its movement, the monk gestured with his hand, pointing Byuga toward the passage ahead. A thin stone bridge stretched from the tower they occupied toward the monastery. On either side stood various figures, each displaying different movements and poses. They were like petrified memories watching the path, showcasing the mysticism and power of the monks to those who arrived.

  The Prince of Jado stepped onto the bridge, but the cold was biting. However, a moment later, he felt a warmth around him, and the kiss of the harsh wind faded. Looking around, he saw the snow carried by the blizzard swirling away before it could touch his skin, hitting an invisible, thin barrier. Looking back, he saw the monk continuing to walk expressionlessly. He stopped then and raised his hands.

  “Where are my companions?” he asked.

  “They are below. You are a candidate for monkhood; they are our guests. You shall see them, do not worry.” Byuga did not find this explanation sufficient, but he realized that, strangely, he trusted the monks. He turned back and continued walking. As he crossed the bridge, the height beneath his feet astonished him. He was standing almost in the sky. Furthermore, there was nothing supporting the bridge other than two curved braces connecting it to the tower and the monastery behind them.

  When they reached the other side, they stepped into a courtyard. It was an outcropping that resembled a deck, jutting into the void. It was clear that the central portion had been carved directly from the mountain. The monk stepped ahead of him, placed his hand upon a large circular door, bowed his head, and spoke. Immediately, the sigils on the door glowed faintly and seemed to move. Then the doors parted, and he entered, led by the monk.

  Despite its outward grandeur, the monastery was filled with narrow corridors, modest halls, and small arched passages. It felt more like a sanctuary or a hiding place than a home for sorcerer-monks. At that moment, Byuga remembered their origins. The monks had emerged during the Macatosh Wars, when sorcerers standing against dark magic came together to aid the mashidas. Some continued their path with religious, some with political, and some with scholarly aims and views. This place must have been a war shelter above all else.

  All the walls were adorned with countless carvings and reliefs. Byuga tried to discern some of them and struggled to see the details of what they were walking toward, but he was unsuccessful. They were too detailed, difficult to grasp, and ambiguous. Silently, as he followed the monk, he gazed at libraries, rooms filled with strange objects, and many other things he could not understand. He had stepped into a completely different world—a somber one.

  Finally, they stood before a wide staircase. These appeared older than everything else, so much so that there were cryptic shapes on every step. When the monk turned to look at Byuga, the Jado prince raised his hands and asked instinctively: “Where is this?”

  The monk then beckoned him and pointed to the carvings on the walls of the low, circular waiting area just before the stairs. An engraving, colored with various stones, covered two walls from end to end. Small, child-like figures were depicted in various forms. Byuga leaned in to look at their faces. They had strange smiles stretching to their ears or mouths appearing as dots. All looked either happy or surprised. In all the depictions, there was not a single war, but a continuous line, resembling a river, flowed through the events. Other shapes and figures were added to the depictions. The Prince of Jado turned to the monk. He knew these stories. Like everyone else, he had heard the tales of the Quang-Shuin and their children who never grew up. Was this place theirs?

  “There are many things we have achieved on our own, many things we have raised with our own hands,” the monk said, smiling at him with his hands. “But the Taom-Dium Monastery is not one of them. This was the home of others before us. It will belong to others after us. This is merely a reminder that we must all surrender to the flow of time.”

  “Did they live here?” Byuga asked.

  “We do not know. What they used this place for is a mystery.” He then signaled for him to follow. The Jado prince followed him, and they climbed the steps. From above, he could hear the faint sound of splashing water. When they finally reached the top, they found themselves in a dome. Although it was open-air, the blizzard did not seem to affect the interior. The ceiling was held aloft by a row of carved pillars. In front of each pillar was a throne that rose in a U-shape but remained much lower than the pillar itself. Some were broken, but this could not hide how magnificent they once were. Had Byuga not known where he was, he might have mistaken this for the legendary gathering place of the Quang-Shuin: Baom-Shauil.

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  Now, monks sat upon the thrones before him. Byuga had not paid much attention to them as he gazed at this magnificent yet modest, fairytale-like dome. All of their gazes were turned toward him, and their eyes, scrutinizing him harshly amidst the howl of the blizzard, did not help him calm down.

  The monk beside him moved away and stood in the center of the domed area. He bowed his head, then spoke to the monks for a while. When the speech concluded, he gestured to Byuga, pointing to the space between them all. The Jado prince swallowed and walked into the center, looking at the faces before him. The monk took a step forward, turned to him, and raised his hands. Two people in simpler, more ordinary robes came toward them. They carried two objects. The monk took those objects and combined them in a way Byuga could not understand. Ultimately, he held a sphere composed of strange mechanical rings that appeared fragmented and interlocking in his palm, then released it into the air. While the object hovered there, he stepped back and raised his hands.

  “We shall align the rings. All you must do is hinder us. Afterward, we shall test your mind. To show that your will is equal to ours, you must prevail over us in both. To join us, you need only succeed in one.”

  Byuga bowed his head, indicating he understood. “But am I a sorcerer?” he asked.

  “Precisely,” the monk said, a smile appearing on his face. Then, he signaled that they would begin. He took Byuga’s hand and placed it beneath the sphere. The young bahysa prepared himself and focused on the rings. Yet, before two seconds had passed, the rings aligned, and an object resembling a plate with various figures on it emerged. The Jado prince had not even understood what had happened. He looked at the monk with furrowed brows, but the man seemed displeased. He waved his hands, opened the rings again, and signaled for him to focus.

  “I do not know how to do it,” Byuga said.

  “Feel. Feel our power and resist it.”

  Byuga focused then, attempting to open his senses as he had done before. It was then that he became aware of a sensation like a wave crashing over him, like the flow of tons of water. However, despite this, when he failed to make any non-physical intervention, the rings abruptly closed once more. If what he did to open his senses was magic, Byuga had performed magic, yet for some reason, he had been unable to stop them in the slightest.

  The monk looked first at him, then at the others seated. One of them made a gesture, and the monk reached for the plate-like object between him and Byuga, took it, separated it into two pieces again, and gave them to those standing aside. As they retreated with heavy, dignified steps, the monk signaled for him to sit. Byuga did as he was told, and the monk sat opposite him. Then, he raised his hands and spoke again.

  “This time, we shall attempt to seize your mind. Protect it against us.” Byuga felt himself grow tense since he was about to engage in a more personal action, but when the monk closed his eyes, he felt he could not ask questions. He took a breath, closed his own eyes, and waited.

  At that exact moment, he felt as if someone was taking his head between their hands and squeezing. Then a tingling, a stinging began. While he was trying to understand what was happening, he opened one eye and saw the faces of each of the monks contorted. Immediately after, the monk sitting before him opened his eyes, and the faces of the others relaxed. However, there was visible shock and perhaps anxiety on the face of the man before him. He approached him, raising his hands once more to speak.

  “How did you do that? Who taught you?”

  “What did I do?” Byuga asked. The monk, letting his anxiety show, turned and looked at the others. None of them seemed pleased with this situation. The Jado prince could not understand what was happening, nor could he tell if he had done something wrong.

  “Has no one taught you to protect your mind until today?”

  “No, they haven't. How can a mind be protected?” The monk’s eyes widened slightly this time, and he looked at the others with a startled expression. They all seemed to share the same astonishment. Then, he immediately turned to Byuga and stood up. Helping him up as well, he crossed his arms.

  “You are one of us now, Jado lin Byuga. From tomorrow, you shall be trained to become a monk.”

  “But about the winter…” When the monk lowered Byuga's hand, he was surprised but forced to remain silent. The man placed a hand on his shoulder and led him out. During the time they walked back down the stairs, there was a clear unease between them, but the Jado prince could not understand the reason for that either. Finally, when they reached that decorated area below, the monk turned to him.

  “We will not help you; you have not earned it,” he said. “Nonetheless, make good use of the time you spend here. You are special, Jado lin Byuga. In ways we do not understand…”

  “I do not want to be a monk,” the young bahysa said, raising his hands.

  “What do you want to be, a warrior?” The man only moved his hands, but Byuga sensed a clear mockery nonetheless. He grew angry, yet he endured it. At this, the monk approached him. “We shall teach you to understand what people say without using their hands, the mysteries of the world, and perhaps our secrets. The world does not have much to offer you, but you may have much to offer it. Walk the path you know, the path you can find first, Byuga; once you know how to return to the path, you may explore the wilderness.”

  These words remained with Byuga. As the man walked, Byuga knew he was right. Therefore, he followed him. He truly would learn. For a while longer, they walked through complex corridors, mezzanines, and halls. Finally, they began to climb one of the countless staircases rising and falling within a massive, empty gallery. At the bottom of the gallery, statues lined up one after another were visible. It was perhaps fifty meters high to the very top. He felt tense as they climbed the stairs that hung in the void, with nothing holding them up.

  Eventually, the monk led him into another corridor. He stopped before one of the doors and then took the cloth hanging on his arm. On it, the name Byuga was written in fine letters. The Jado prince wondered how they knew he would join them from the very beginning. Perhaps it was simply a room prepared for him and his friends to stay in.

  “When will I see my friends?” he managed to ask when the monk turned to him.

  “They will not stay with you,” the man said. “We will allow you to see them at intervals, but you cannot spend time with them during your training. This is important for your development. If you wish to see them, you may meet one last time this evening before your training begins.”

  “Alright…” When Byuga touched the monk’s arm, the man flinched; the Jado prince immediately let go and swallowed. “Lin-Shu, can she stay with me? She has no one.”

  “If she wishes to join the Taom-Dium Monks, why not. However, this is not a place suitable for women, Jado Lin Byuga.” Then, when the young bahysa wanted to speak again, the monk raised his hand, and the door opened on its own. “Calm yourself, young prince. Enter your room and rest; empty your mind. You shall see them all today. When the time comes, they will fetch you from your room.”

  Then, the monk walked away with heavy steps. Byuga, feeling tired and lost, looked at his room.

  It did not take long for him to settle in. He had nothing on him anyway. After a while, when someone passed by the room, he asked in sign language where he could leave the clothes he was wearing but received no answer. Then, he went inside and lay down. Shortly after, there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, clean clothes lay before him. Beside them, a wicker basket had been placed. He changed his clothes and tossed his old ones into the basket. Feeling exhausted, he immediately went to bed and slept.

  When his door was knocked upon again, he woke up with his whole body stiff. The bed in his room was not very comfortable. At the same time, whether it was the effect of moving from the blizzard he had walked in for days to a warm room, he felt the need to use the latrine. He got up, walked to the door, and opened it slightly. The monk was waiting for him there.

  “I do not know your name,” he said to him. “Will you tell me now, so I may address you?”

  “Gyatso,” the man said, tracing the letters in the air with his hands. Then, he signaled for him to follow. “Your friends are waiting for you.” However, Byuga stopped him as he was leaving and pointed to his stomach.

  “I need to relieve myself, but I couldn't find a chamber pot.”

  “Because we do not use chamber pots.” The monk looked at his face with almost disgust. “The toilets are at the end of the corridor; after you have done your business, you may use the cloth or, if there is none left, the brushes.” Then, he signaled for him to go. Byuga ran. He knew how to use a toilet, of course, but he had never used a communal one. In such a monastery, he thought there would at least be a private toilet. When he didn't see one, he had assumed they used chamber pots. It bothered him that he had been seen as someone uncultured.

  The toilets were quite clean but so cold that he couldn't properly attend to his needs. Nevertheless, acting as quickly as possible, he cleaned himself and immediately returned to Gyatso’s side. The monk did not seem bored. He was watching a caterpillar on the wall, poking it with his finger every now and then. When he saw Byuga, he smiled and pointed toward the corridor leading to the stairs. Byuga followed his hand, and they went down together.

  When they finally arrived at one of the halls slightly beyond the bridge, the Jado prince saw Makar, Lin-Shu, and the son of Chaf-Chauin. He made a sound, but he couldn't even hear the sound he made himself. He immediately ran and hugged them. When he turned to Lin-Shu, the young girl didn't wait for him; she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Byuga was surprised, swallowed, and felt embarrassed, but he responded by wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “What happened?” Linyu asked. “Will they help us?”

  “No. They want me to be a monk.”

  “What will we do?” Concern appeared on Linyu’s face. He looked at Gyatso and then back at the Jado prince. “We cannot stay here. The world is unaware of what is happening. We are not sure if Bahysaris knows that Gaigen has fallen.”

  “The Guardians of Perlam have sent word to all the shimlyns, revealing the scale of the threat,” Gyatso interjected, drawing everyone's attention. “We are monitoring the situation, and both the Chang-Cho monks and the other monasteries have informed the houses. Alone, you are of no use against this disaster. It is best for you to take refuge here for a while.”

  “So what will we do here?” Linyu asked, ceasing to speak in sign language.

  “Our great library is open to everyone.” Gyatso smiled. “You will be given rooms. Rooms often given to heirs, visiting nobles, and even mashidas… You can learn much here and stay in peace.”

  “What about Makar?” Gyatso looked at the kardam uneasily.

  “If he does not cross the paths of those here too often, he too can remain in peace.”

  “Will we be able to see Byuga?”

  “No.” At Gyatso’s words, Makar furrowed his brows and made a sound resembling a snort. Then, Gyatso continued. “He shall receive training from us to both use his powers and develop other skills. When his apprenticeship is over and he becomes an elder, you may see him again.”

  “How long will this take?”

  “As long as it takes for Jado lin Byuga to learn.” Gyatso waited as they all looked at each other uneasily. Then, the monk placed his hand on Byuga’s shoulder. He raised his hands and said, “Say your goodbyes.”

  Byuga first hugged Makar, then Linyu tightly. Afterward, swallowing, he hugged Lin-Shu, kissed her on both cheeks, and said ‘I love you’ to her with his hands. The girl smiled, reached out, and held him again. Makar placed his hand on his shoulder, and as the three of them bowed their heads, Byuga turned back and walked with Gyatso. Once they were out of sight, the newest apprentice of Taom-Dium turned his head, nudged the monk, and raised his hands.

  “I want to send a letter,” he said.

  “To whom?”

  “To my father; the shimlyn of the House of Jado.” Then, he continued to climb the stairs and took a deep breath.