Cyrus remembered awakening in darkness.

  Not the black of night, but true utter pitch darkness; so dark he couldn’t see his own body.

  There’d been a bad hit into the boards, and a sharp pain in his neck.

  But now there were no worries, no pain, just nothing.

  He didn’t know how long he floated there, in that endless Void. An eternity, a moment, who could tell?

  And who would care?

  Just as his last shred of consciousness slipped away, Cyrus heard it. The faintest sound of… music?

  Strange ethereal notes that no mere human instrument had ever played. They were high pitched and warbling, but with a calm and soothing rhythm. Like a sonata, or a lullaby.

  Maybe it was simple bullheadedness, or fear of death, but whatever the reason he pulled away from the edge of eternal slumber and dragged himself through the darkness.

  The first thing he beheld was the Spheres. Great orbs in the distance that hung upon a dark tapestry, larger than planets and shining with alien majesty. They were silver, gold, azure, and other colours that warped and flickered with eldritch light, some with rings and others moons. They spun and orbited in complex geometries that filled the Void with an energy that stirred something within Cyrus’s soul, more than even lacrosse ever had.

  Beyond the Spheres lay the bright cosmos. Cyrus had seen the Milky Way once, while busing on an away trip through the dark night of Manitoba. Not the faint speckle of stars, but a swathe of pinks and purples and greens.

  This was like that. But all around, as every speck of creation swirled in a slow current around the Spheres.

  Atop and about the Spheres, creatures swung and swayed. Great and small with too many arms, too many eyes, and too many dimensions. They hurt Cyrus’s nonexistent brain to look at, but he was still drawn to them. They held instruments of many shapes and sizes, complex contraptions of brass and wood and unspeakable metals from whence the lullaby came.

  A lullaby for the great heaving, sleeping, Thing that lay at the center of it all.

  Cyrus’s mind shied away from trying to comprehend the Thing, choosing to join the procession around the Spheres instead. He had no instrument, and his singing voice was horrific, but he was fit. And he could Dance.

  From the nothingness he’d become, an ethereal black body formed, moving to the syncopated rhythm of the Song. He Danced on moons of marble, and capered upon rings of copper. Each step of the Dance led him in an ever widening spiral that spanned the fabric of creation. It was a Dance that was new, and yet somehow as old as time itself.

  But then he heard it. His name.

  A shooting star in a distant galaxy was calling to him. He felt it in his heart, and in his soul. For the first time in an age he wasn’t one of the Dancers, but Cyrus.

  His Dance faltered, and he took a broken step towards that distant star. First one, and then another. Faster and faster. Up ahead, he saw a great shining wall, like a mirror. The star that called to him was within it.

  As he got closer, he saw a constellation, an interconnected series of dull lights surrounding the central shining shooting star. Around it was a translucent outline, a body to match the bones of the constellation.

  It was a boy, with a high brow and spikey black hair. He had a tanned olive complexion, a toned physique, two almond eyes, and a laughing mouth.

  It was Cyrus. But not him. Younger? Different in a way Cyrus couldn’t explain. The figure was also dressed oddly, in a white hanbok or hanfu.

  Even as his mind screamed to return to the Dance, Cyrus’s feet plodded forward. His hand reached out, the figure in the mirror matching him in perfect synchronicity. Cyrus rested his hand on the silvery surface of the mirror. It was cold – so cold, and his palm matched perfectly with the mirror-him’s, though Cyrus’s was slightly larger. A man’s hand.

  Suddenly, the surface of the mirror gave way, faint ripples expanding outwards from his fingers. The Song faltered, going off-key for just a moment, and the very Void itself trembled, as the Thing turned in its sleep. Cyrus tried to pull away, to return to the Dance, but his arm was drawn inexorably into the mirror, as unstoppable as time.

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  —

  Cyrus shook himself awake again, feeling the cold prickle on his skin.

  But when he opened his eyes, it was not under a night sky on a hill covered with irises.

  Cyrus’s breathing grew erratic and his pulse quickened; he was back in that infinite Void!

  But he slowly calmed down as he realized there was a faint blue light in the sky. And he had an actual body! He looked down at his too-short arms, and groaned. They were Song’s arms.

  He huffed with disappointment. “Okay, so… is this the ‘mindscape’ that Juwon mentioned? Looks… boring.” Cyrus muttered, placing his hands on his hips and looking around. Just a bunch of dark. He stomped his feet, feeling a hard unyielding floor beneath them. “Hmm… seems solid enough. Are there walls?”

  Cyrus looked up overhead, to where a shining blue constellation, similar in shape to the big dipper, sat in the ‘sky’. There weren’t any other stars, just those, and they felt significant.

  Cyrus’s mind flashed back to those other unnamed nebulae, to the Spheres, and the Song. There was a sharp stab of pain in his temples and his feet demanded he take the first step in the Dance. Instead, he collapsed to his knees with a cry, and the fragment of memory disappeared.

  “What just happened?” Cyrus groaned. “What was all that?”

  He tried to remember it, but it passed out from his mind like water through a sluice. It was too big, too grand, and his brain shied away from it in self protection.

  “What happened is that you stole my body! Give it BACK!” A voice shouted from his left, and Cyrus nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “Tha fudge!?” Cyrus shouted, whirling to face the voice. In the center of the moonlight space was a tall standing mirror, one of those old-timey wood and silver things. Inside it, Cyrus’s reflection angrily staring back at him with crossed arms.

  “... Song?” Cyrus hazarded.

  “Oh? The Demon bothered to learn my name? How admirable.” The boy snapped. “How dare you steal my body! You’re courting death! My father and brothers will tear you to pieces!”

  Cyrus chuckled as he approached the mirror. “Courting death? Who talks like that?”

  “I do! Lee Song! Proud son of the Lee family! Now return my body, Demon, and perhaps I’ll show you mercy!”

  “Hey, kid, I’m not the one walking around with horns. And that’s no way to ask someone for something.”

  Song hesitated. “Would you return my body to me… please?”

  “That’s better.” Cyrus walked up to the mirror, and considered it. “Are you stuck in there?”

  “What do you think?” Song banged on the mirror, his fists bouncing off it ineffectively.

  Cyrus walked around the mirror, observing it from all sides. “Yup. It’s a mirror.”

  Song tilted his head. “Are you a fool?”

  “Shut it, kid.” Cyrus frowned. “I’m older than you. Show some respect.”

  “It’s hard to respect a thief, but I’ll try.” Song replied in a too-polite voice.

  “I’m no thief. I didn’t do this on purpose. What do you remember?”

  Song closed his eyes. “I remember… the Void. And the mirror…” His eyes shot open again, sparkling with childish enthusiasm. “But I formed my dantian! I know I did. Have you seen my Sign? Did I succeed!?”

  Cyrus quirked an eyebrow. “Sign? What? I dunno. I was just chatting with your brothers.”

  “I saw,” Song grumbled.

  “Oh? You heard it allll?” Cyrus taunted, leaning close to the mirror.

  Song flushed. “That thing with Jo Harin was all elder brother Tae’s fault! He told me I had to bleat like a goat to do it right!”

  Cyrus fully belly-laughed at that, the last dregs of his tension melting away. “Well, fine. So… how do we get you out?”

  Song’s eyes narrowed. “You would truly return my body … Why?”

  “Honestly kid, I really didn’t intend any of this. I’m just as confused as you are.”

  Song’s face immediately brightened. “I apologize for calling you a demon, Sir….”

  “Call me Cyrus. And skip the Sir. Ugh, Sir Cyrus sounds like a venereal disease.”

  “Ven-e-re-al?”

  *Cough* “Never you mind! Anyways, it’s a mirror, so… maybe we need to break it?” Cyrus looked around for a weapon, or something he could use.

  “No!” Song shouted. “What if I shattered with it? Perhaps… we touched the mirror together once. Maybe we could try that again?”

  Cyrus hesitated. “You could really see and hear everything out there? I don't want to be stuck in that… nothingness again.”

  Song nodded vigorously. “I swear by my Honour and the Great Ones!”

  “I really do want to give your body back…” Cyrus slowly raised a trembling arm. Then his gaze firmed and he placed his hand upon the surface of the mirror. “Whatever, I lived my life. Come on, do it before I chicken out!”

  A moment later, Song placed his hand on the mirror as well.

  There was a flash of starlight.

  —

  Beneath a clear night sky, on a hill covered in changpo flowers, a young man started, falling out of meditation. A thick blanket fell from his shoulders as he shook himself.

  Lee Song looked around, viewing the world for the first time as a cultivator.

  It didn’t look much different.

  But for the three figures draped in fur coats that sat protectively around him in a circle, keeping watch.

  “Elder Brothers?” Song whispered, his voice timid and unsure.

  His three siblings all jumped to their feet and ran to him. “Little Song!”