First and Final Sky
Curious about what Lunaris had left behind, Caelrisu reached for the book resting on the table. Its cover was bound in an old leather, smooth yet worn at the edges, a silent testament to countless readings. The golden letters etched across the spine shimmered faintly in the afternoon light: "First and Final Sky."
She sat down on the edge of the bed, running a thumb along the edge of the cover before opening it. The pages gave off a faint scent of sandalwood and ink.
"Hmm..." she murmured, scanning the first section. "A Transcendent Rank Martial Art." Her eyes widened slightly. "If I'm not mistaken, Transcendent Rank corresponds to the Silent Judge level..."
Her brow furrowed. "Did he find this in the library? No... impossible. Techniques of this grade are sealed in the Clan's treasure vaults."
She tapped the page thoughtfully. "I'll have to speak with him later."
The first page contained only a few lines, a mantra, written in elegant, flowing strokes.
"I do not fight sickness. I remind the body of its dawn. I do not battle pain. I offer the soul its dusk. In the space between the First and Final Sky, all wounds are but fleeting clouds."
'What does it mean?'
She read it again, trying to find some secret, but she couldn't make head or tail of the mantra.
Secondly, it was the philosophy and inspiration that the creator of this martial art held.
The First Sky is the Womb of Potential: it is the state of being before existence, a canvas of pure, unmanifested life force. To heal with the First Sky is to restore potential, to return a wounded body or spirit to its original state of wholeness.
The Final Sky is the Peace of Resolution: it is not death, but the perfect, silent stillness that comes after a cycle ends. To heal with the Final Sky is to impose peace, to silence pain, halt corruption, and bring a violent, chaotic state to a definitive, calm conclusion.
True Health is Cosmic Alignment: A being is not "healthy" merely when their body works, but when their personal cycle is in harmony with the great cycle of the cosmos. Sickness is a dissonant note; this art retunes the symphony.
'Hmm... it seems like the first philosophy is to heal one's body. The second is to heal the mind. But what does the third philosophy mean?'
She stood up from her head and started roaming around the room, thinking, her Analyst working at full force.
'Cosmic alignment. Cosmic alignment... did the creator of this art want to achieve immortality!? Or did he want to influence fate to cure every disease? Whatever it was, it seemed like he was sick in the head.'
Setting aside his or her philosophy, Caelrisu started reading techniques mentioned in the manual.
The first technique was Breath of the Primordial Dawn: one must draw upon the "First Sky" to infuse a patient or oneself with a burst of pure, undifferentiated life energy. This is used to stabilize the critically injured, accelerate cellular regeneration, and reignite the spark of life in those near death.
The second technique was Embrace of the Eternal Dusk: the healer channels the "Final Sky" to bring absolute peace to a specific area. This can be used to soothe a fever by imposing a "cosmic coolness," numb unbearable pain by convincing the nerves that their task is complete, or halt the spread of a curse or poison by declaring its chaotic influence "over."
'These two are the Foundation Art for the other three techniques that utilizes them.'
Sky-Weaver's Paradox: One simultaneously channels both the First and Final Sky, creating a "healing storm" in a localized area. This rapidly cycles a wound through states of primordial growth and peaceful resolution, forcing it to heal in moments. A shattered bone knits itself in a flash of light and a following wave of calm.
Echo of the First Song: A technique for healing the mind and soul. The healer channels a "memory" of the First Sky, the original, perfect state of existence, to overwrite trauma, mend a fractured psyche, and restore lost memories by reminding the consciousness of its original, whole state.
And the ultimate move:
Cosmic Reset: The Unmaking and Remaking: The ultimate, most dangerous technique. The healer does not heal the wound; they use the "Final Sky" to gently unmake the patient's body and the "First Sky" to immediately remake it from its own essence, according to its original, healthy state. This can cure anything, from genetic curses to total organ failure, but it risks erasing the patient's identity if performed imperfectly.
"Was the creator of this art trying to become a god? Considering the feats he could accomplish, he doesn't look like someone just at the Silent Judge level. He should correspond to Aethersage in terms of martial arts."
And lastly, the method to draw upon the "First Sky" and the "Final Sky."
First Sky: Close your eyes and turn your awareness inward. Do not focus on your heartbeat or breath. Instead, seek the silence between your heartbeats, the stillness before the impulse to breathe arises. This is your internal echo of the "First Sky."
Within that void, visualize not a sun, but the first photon, the very first particle of light that ever burst into the cosmos. It is not bright or blinding; it is a single, profound point of "Is-ness" within the "Is-Not." Your mantra is internal, a single thought: "Before."
Final Sky: Open your awareness to the space around you. Do not listen to sounds; listen to the silence that holds the sounds. Perceive not the objects in the room, but the vast, empty space between them. This is your external connection to the "Final Sky."
Visualize the gentle, inevitable dimming of all light. Not a violent end, but a peaceful fading, like the last ember of a cosmic fire cooling into uniform, comfortable darkness. The mantra here is a single, releasing thought: "After."
Unlike what Caelrisu had imagined, the First and Final Sky was not hard to understand; its principles were simple. But to perform them? That was another matter entirely.
'It'll take years,' she thought grimly, closing the book. 'Years before I can even draw the First Sky.'
She shut her eyes, letting that truth settle into her bones. Then she smiled faintly, as if challenging herself. "Fine. Then I'll start with what's in front of me."
Her goal was clear: last one minute against Namgoong Gyo, without damaging herself this time. The foolishness of their last spar still burned in her memory.
Caelrisu stood and began to unbutton her patient's robe. The loose fabric slipped from her pale shoulders, pooling soundlessly at her feet. She faced the mirror, the cold air brushing against her pale white skin with a pinkish hue.
Faint, shallow scars traced her body, souvenirs from previous mistakes. Her fingertips brushed along them one by one until they stopped at the deep mark slashing from her shoulder down across her chest.
For a long moment, she just stared. Her reflection met her gaze, pale, calm, and unyielding. Then she exhaled softly, the sigh carrying something between regret and resolve.
"Not this time," she murmured.
She reached for the skin-tight black outfit, the one woven from her mother's sorry gift. The cloth clung to her like a second skin, warm and light, almost breathing with her.
When she fastened the final clasp, she felt her heartbeat steady, sharp, focused, and alive.
Caelrisu opened the door and stepped into the corridor, the faint echo of her boots following her all the way to the courtyard. Namgoong Gyo stood there, recovered entirely and smiling faintly at her approach.
She bowed slightly, her voice clear and calm.
"Instructor," she said, eyes blazing with quiet determination, "let's fight. We still have nine days left."