Weaves of Ashes

Chapter 192: Chapter 187: Learning to Walk Again

Location: Pavilion Medical Bay → Training Hall

Time: Day 231 (Doha Actual) | 765 - 21 Voidmarch, 9938 AZI

Morning arrived with chaos.

Jayde woke to the sensation of something small and scaly climbing onto her face. She opened her eyes to find Tianxin—the most adventurous of Yinxin’s three wyrmlings—perched on her nose, tiny golden eyes staring into hers from approximately two inches away.

”Aunty awake!” The mental voice was piercingly loud for something so small. ”AUNTY AWAKE! MOTHER! AUNTY IS AWAKE!”

The other two wyrmlings materialized from somewhere—Jayde honestly couldn’t track how they moved so fast—and suddenly she was buried under a pile of excited baby dragons. Wings flapped. Tails whipped. Someone’s claw caught in her moonlight hair.

(Ow ow ow—)

Tactical assessment: We are under attack. The attackers are adorable.

”Children.” Yinxin’s voice carried the exhausted patience of a mother who had been awake for hours already. ”Aunty Jayde needs to breathe.”

The wyrmlings ignored her completely. Six months of fear and confusion—their mother hibernating through her own transformation, Aunty Jayde and Uncle Reiko both sealed in glowing cocoons, only the healer Green, the terrifying White, the fox spirit Isha, and a small kitten to tend to them—had left them desperately clingy. Now that everyone was awake and accessible, they intended to make the most of it.

”Aunty feels different,” one of them announced—Shenxin, the observant one, his scales shimmering silver with the gold-edged frill that marked him. ”More... dragony.”

”Aunty is Aunty,” Tianxin countered, still perched on Jayde’s face. ”Same Aunty. Just bigger.”

”And her eyes are pretty now,” added Huaxin, the quietest of the three, her lavender-edged frill catching the light. ”Golden pretty.”

Jayde managed to sit up, dislodging Tianxin (who simply climbed onto her head instead) and gathering the other two in her arms. They were heavier than she remembered. Warmer. Their essence signatures pulsed with that unique wyrmling energy—chaotic and pure and absolutely trusting.

(They grew while we were sleeping.)

Affirmative. Approximately fifteen percent size increase. Development on track for species norms.

”I missed you too,” Jayde said softly, and meant it.

***

Breakfast was a disaster.

Green had prepared a simple meal—fruit, bread, some kind of protein that Jayde didn’t examine too closely—but the wyrmlings had other ideas. They wanted to be fed by hand. All three of them. Simultaneously. While also climbing on everyone and demanding constant attention.

”Mine!” Tianxin snatched a piece of fruit from Shenxin’s pile.

”That’s MINE!” Shenxin lunged for it.

Huaxin, seeing an opportunity, grabbed food from both their plates while they were distracted.

”Children,” Yinxin said again, with slightly less patience this time. Her massive silver form was curled around the feeding area, tail wrapped protectively, but even she couldn’t contain three determined wyrmlings. ”Behave.”

They did not behave.

Reiko attempted to help by nudging a plate back toward its proper owner. Unfortunately, Reiko was now lion-sized, and his ”gentle nudge” sent the plate flying across the room to shatter against the far wall.

Everyone froze.

”That was my favorite plate,” Green observed mildly.

[I didn’t mean to—the proportions are—I’m still adjusting—]

”Uncle Reiko broke the plate!” Tianxin announced gleefully. ”Uncle Reiko is in TROUBLE!”

[I am not in trouble. I am a primordial shadowbeast. I am—]

”In trouble,” Jayde finished, failing to hide her grin. ”Definitely in trouble.”

[I hate all of you.]

He tried to turn away with dignity. His tail, which he’d apparently forgotten was now significantly longer, swept across the table and knocked three cups to the floor.

The wyrmlings erupted into shrieking laughter.

Green closed her fractured emerald eyes and took a very deep breath. ”Perhaps,” she said with admirable calm, ”we should move to the training hall. Where there are fewer breakable objects.”

***

The training hall had clearly been designed by someone who expected their students to occasionally destroy things. The walls were reinforced. The floors were scored with old burn marks and gouges. Training dummies stood at intervals, looking like they’d already survived several apocalypses.

Jayde eyed them warily. ”This seems... sturdy.”

”It has to be,” Green replied. ”New cultivators often have control issues. The hall is designed to absorb punishment.” She gestured to a marked area in the center. ”Shall we begin with something simple? Walking?”

(Walking. She wants us to practice walking.)

Our body has been significantly modified. Recalibration is logical.

(It’s still embarrassing.)

”I can walk,” Jayde said, with more confidence than she felt. ”I’ve been walking for fifteen years. Well—seventeen now, apparently. Walking is easy.”

She took a step.

The world blurred.

Her body, responding to the simple intention of ”move forward,” launched across the training hall at approximately thirty times normal human speed. She had a fraction of a second to see the training dummy approaching before—

CRASH.

The dummy exploded. Stuffing and padding erupted in all directions like a particularly violent pillow fight. Jayde found herself embedded in the debris, covered in fluff, staring at the ceiling.

”I was trying to walk,” she said to no one in particular.

From across the room, she heard Reiko’s mental voice: [At least you made it further than I usually do.]

Green appeared in her field of vision, looking down at her with an expression of professional assessment. ”Your enhanced speed is responding to mental commands with approximately ten times the expected force. We’ll need to recalibrate your baseline movements.”

”Wonderful.”

Jayde climbed to her feet—carefully, slowly, treating each motion like she was handling explosive materials. Which, apparently, she was.

”Let’s try again,” Green said. ”This time, imagine you’re walking through honey. Thick, slow, resistant.”

Jayde imagined honey. Took a step.

Only shot forward fifteen feet instead of thirty.

”Progress,” Green noted.

***

The next hour was a comedy of errors that would have been humiliating if Jayde had any dignity left to wound.

Dragon scales: She tried to consciously activate the microscopic scales hidden beneath her skin. The intention was full-body armor. The result was her left arm scaling up to the elbow while the rest of her remained completely human, creating a deeply unsettling patchwork effect.

”I look diseased,” Jayde observed, examining the half-transformed limb.

”The scales are responding to fragmented intent,” Green explained. ”You’re thinking about your arm while you command the transformation. The scales only activate where your focus lies.”

”How do I focus on my entire body at once?”

”Practice.”

Phoenix fire: This one started well. Jayde concentrated on her palm, reaching for the Inferno essence that now flowed through her like a second heartbeat. A small flame would be good. Controlled. Subtle.

Golden fire erupted from her hand in a column that reached the ceiling.

Not red fire. Not orange. Pure, blazing gold—the color of Pyratheon’s divine flames, twice as hot as normal phoenix fire, and absolutely impossible to control at her current skill level.

The training banner mounted on the far wall burst into flames.

Green extinguished it with a casual wave of Torrent essence, water materializing from thin air to douse the fire. She didn’t even look surprised anymore.

”Your phoenix heritage has... strengthened,” she said, in the same tone someone might note that it had started raining. ”The golden coloration indicates direct essence inheritance rather than diluted bloodline. You’ll need to completely relearn your Inferno control.”

Jayde stared at her still-smoking palm. The golden flames had felt natural. Easy. Like they’d been waiting for her whole life to emerge.

That was the terrifying part.

Torrent essence: Attempting to balance the fire disaster, Jayde reached for her secondary element. Water. Calm, controlled water. Just a small amount in her palm.

Water exploded from her hand like a burst pipe.

It didn’t stop.

”How do I—” Jayde tried to cut off the flow. The water kept coming. ”Green, how do I—”

”Withdraw your intent!”

”I’M TRYING!”

Within thirty seconds, the training hall floor was three inches deep in water. The wyrmlings, who had been watching from a safe distance with Yinxin, immediately abandoned their mother and dove into the impromptu pool.

”WATER!” Tianxin shrieked with joy, splashing wildly.

”BATH TIME!” Shenxin added, dunking his siblings.

”Cold cold cold!” Huaxin protested, but he was laughing.

Jayde finally managed to cut off the flow, standing ankle-deep in water, absolutely drenched, watching baby dragons splash around her feet.

Yinxin’s massive head appeared at the edge of the flooded zone. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes glittered with barely suppressed amusement.

”At least someone’s enjoying this,” she observed.

”I hate everything,” Jayde muttered.

(We sound like Reiko now.)

The comparison is not inaccurate.

***

Reiko’s turn came next, and Jayde took petty satisfaction in watching him struggle just as much as she had.

His problems were different but equally dramatic. His new size meant that doorways were now suggestions rather than passages. He got stuck in the training hall entrance twice. The second time, he had to be physically pushed through from behind by Green, who was very clearly reconsidering her life choices.

His tail, now significantly longer and heavier, had developed a mind of its own. Every time he turned, it swept through the space behind him, knocking over equipment, training dummies, and on one memorable occasion, a very startled wyrmling.

”UNCLE REIKO HIT ME!” Shenxin protested, more offended than hurt.

[I didn’t mean to! I didn’t see you!]

”Uncle Reiko can’t control his BUTT!” Tianxin announced, which sent all three wyrmlings into hysterical giggles.

[It’s not—that’s not—it’s a TAIL—]

But the real disaster came when Reiko attempted to demonstrate his improved reflexes. He’d been watching Jayde crash into things all morning, and when it was his turn, he was determined to show more grace.

”I’ve been practicing,” he sent to the room at large, his mental voice carrying the confidence of someone who had not, in fact, been practicing. ”Watch this.”

He took a step forward.

His front left paw landed perfectly.

His front right paw, slightly larger than he remembered, caught on his front left paw.

His back legs, which had not received the memo about stopping, continued forward.

The resulting faceplant was spectacular. Lion-sized shadowbeast, hitting the wet floor at full force, sliding approximately fifteen feet through the standing water to come to rest against the far wall with a splash that soaked everyone within range.

The silence that followed was profound.

Then Tianxin’s voice, high and delighted: ”DO IT AGAIN!”

Reiko lay where he’d landed, massive form sprawled across the floor, silver-black fur matted with water, dignity in absolute ruins.

[This never happened,] he sent flatly. [None of you saw this.]

Jayde, dripping wet, covered in scorch marks, still picking training dummy stuffing out of her hair, grinned at him from her position by the cracked wall.

”I saw it.”

[I hate everything.]

”Join the club.”

***

Green called a break around midday.

They gathered in a dry section of the training hall—the wyrmlings had finally exhausted themselves splashing and were now piled on top of their mother, half-asleep and making small contented sounds. Reiko had found a sunny spot and was very pointedly not looking at anyone. Jayde sat on a surviving bench, cataloging her various bruises and burn marks.

”Assessment,” Green said, pulling out a small crystal that projected diagnostic information. ”Jayde. Entry Inferno-tempered, stable. Your cultivation has fully recovered from the... complications of your transformation.”

”Complications,” Jayde repeated. ”Is that what we’re calling ’divine heritage explosion’?”

Green ignored her. ”Inferno essence mastery is complete—your first seal is fully integrated. Torrent essence is accessible but poorly controlled—the second seal’s partial opening has given you access without the instinctive understanding. Luminari essence is active but suppressed by the Veil, which is functioning perfectly.”

She manipulated the crystal, pulling up more data.

”Physical statistics have increased substantially. Your meridians are at one hundred percent integrity for the first time since I began treating you. Mental barriers have improved to ninety-four percent integration. Body constitution is approaching Transcendent tier at forty-seven point three percent. And your Qi capacity has tripled.”

Jayde blinked. ”Tripled?”

”From forty-six thousand to one hundred thirty-nine thousand units.” Green’s fractured emerald eyes met hers with unusual intensity. ”You are, physically and cultivationally, in the best condition you have ever been. The challenge is that your body has changed faster than your mind can adapt. You have the power of an Inferno-tempered cultivator in a frame you don’t recognize.”

”How long until I stop destroying things by accident?”

”Weeks. Perhaps months, for full control.” Green’s expression softened slightly. ”Patience, child. You’ve done the impossible. Learning to walk again is a small price to pay.”

Jayde looked down at her hands—human-seeming now, the Veil hiding the diamond talons beneath. Somewhere inside her, phoenix fire waited to erupt gold. Dragon scales lurked beneath her skin. Divine essence thrummed through her bones.

And she had school in three months.

”I don’t have weeks,” she said quietly. ”I have responsibilities. A debt. Worm colonies still threatening the planet. And apparently, homework.”

Green’s lips twitched. ”Then I suggest you practice harder.”

***

The kitten arrived during the afternoon session.

Jayde was in the middle of her forty-seventh attempt at walking normally—she’d made it almost across the room without launching, crashing, or destroying anything—when a small white shape trotted through the training hall entrance.

Sky-blue tipped ears. Large blue eyes. A tiny collar with a crystal embedded in it, and a harness with small pouches. Looking slightly rumpled and very put-upon.

”Takara!”

She’d completely forgotten about him. The small creature she’d rescued from outside her cave, months ago now—a snow kitten, Reiko had called him. Some kind of Upper Realm beast that had lost its mother to hunters. He’d been staying in the Pavilion since before her transformation, and in all the chaos of waking up as a half-goddess, she hadn’t even thought to check on him.

The kitten mewed plaintively, padding toward her with the deliberate dignity of a very small animal that wanted to be taken seriously.

Jayde scooped him up, cradling him against her chest. ”I’m sorry, little one. I forgot about you in all the... everything.”

Takara—for that was the name she’d given him—it was Isha’s suggestion—purred, nuzzling against her hand. But something in his posture seemed... confused. His small head kept tilting, like he was trying to figure something out.

Observation: The creature’s behavior indicates perplexity. Likely related to our altered essence signature.

(He probably doesn’t recognize us. We smell different now.)

To the kitten’s senses, Jayde realized, she must seem completely different. The Veil suppressed everything—the dragon scales, the phoenix fire, the divine essence. She felt human. Smelled human. Read as human.

”It’s still me,” she told him softly. ”I know I’m... different now. But I’m still the person who found you.”

Takara’s blue eyes stared up at her. For a moment, something flickered in their depths—something that looked almost like calculation. Then he sneezed, tiny and adorable, and started purring again.

(See? He remembers us.)

The sneeze timing was suspicious.

(You’re paranoid. He’s a kitten.)

***

The wyrmlings discovered the kitten approximately thirty seconds later.

”KITTY!”

Three small forms launched themselves across the training hall with the kind of speed Jayde desperately wished she could control. Takara had just enough time to flatten his ears before he was surrounded.

”Soft!” Shenxin announced, patting his head with significantly more force than necessary.

”Fluffy!” Tianxin added, attempting to pick him up by the scruff.

”Tiny!” Huaxin observed, poking his tail.

Takara, to his credit, endured the assault with remarkable composure. He made a small sound of protest when Tianxin’s grip slipped and nearly dropped him, but otherwise remained limp and patient in the manner of a creature that had accepted its fate.

”Children,” Yinxin’s voice carried across the hall. She’d raised her massive head, watching the scene with the wariness of a mother who knew her offspring’s capacity for chaos. ”Gentle with the small creature.”

”We ARE being gentle!” Tianxin protested, now wearing the kitten on her head like a very fluffy hat.

”He’s not struggling!” Shenxin pointed out, which was true only because Takara appeared to have entered some kind of dissociative state.

Huaxin, the quietest and often the most observant of the three, was studying the kitten closely. ”He has a collar,” he noted. ”And tiny bags. What’s in the bags?”

Takara’s ear twitched.

”Probably medicine and things,” Jayde said, rescuing the kitten from his scaly admirers. ”He was hurt when I found him. The pouches probably hold healing supplies.”

She tucked him into the crook of her arm, where he curled up with evident relief. His blue eyes, she noticed, kept darting to the wyrmlings with an expression that looked remarkably like existential exhaustion.

”Poor little thing,” she murmured. ”They don’t mean any harm. They’re just... enthusiastic.”

Takara made a sound that might have been agreement. Or might have been a very small scream. Hard to tell with kittens.

***

By evening, everyone was exhausted.

The training hall looked like a disaster zone—water damage, scorch marks, multiple Jayde-shaped dents in the walls, one Reiko-shaped skid mark across the floor, and the remains of at least six training dummies. Green surveyed the destruction with the expression of someone who had seen worse but couldn’t quite remember when.

”Tomorrow,” she said finally, ”we begin with meditation.”

”Thank the gods,” Jayde muttered.

”Followed by more physical recalibration.”

”Never mind.”

They migrated back to the common area—a comfortable space with cushions, low tables, and soft lighting that adjusted automatically to the room’s occupants. Yinxin settled into her customary position, massive silver form taking up most of one wall. The wyrmlings, finally worn out from their day of chaos, piled onto her in a tangle of wings and tails.

Reiko found a corner that could actually accommodate his new size and curled up with his muzzle on his paws. He was still radiating embarrassment from the faceplant incident, but the exhaustion was winning.

Jayde collapsed onto a cushion, every muscle aching despite her enhanced constitution. Takara immediately climbed onto her lap, circling three times before settling into a small white ball of fluff.

For a moment, there was silence. Actual, genuine silence—no crashes, no explosions, no wyrmling shrieking. Just the soft sound of breathing and the gentle hum of Pavilion systems.

Jayde looked around at her strange, impossible family.

A three-thousand-year-old silver dragon. Three baby dragons who had been born in chaos and didn’t know any other way to exist. A primordial shadowbeast who tripped over his own feet and accidentally broadcast his thoughts to entire rooms. A kitten—just a kitten, but somehow part of them now too.

And herself. Half-goddess, fully confused, covered in scorch marks and training dummy stuffing.

”We’re a mess,” she said softly.

Reiko’s mental voice, drowsy but warm: [The most powerful mess in the Lower Realm.]

(At least we’re together.)

Agreed. Tactical situation: suboptimal. Unit cohesion: exceptional.

Yinxin’s golden eyes opened, meeting Jayde’s across the room. Something passed between them—understanding, maybe. Acceptance. The weight of their respective transformations, shared.

”Rest,” the dragon queen said quietly. ”Tomorrow, we continue. All of us.”

Takara purred in Jayde’s lap.

The wyrmlings snored in their pile.

Reiko’s breathing deepened toward sleep.

And Jayde, for the first time since waking up as something more than human, felt something that might have been peace.

It wouldn’t last. She knew that. There were worm colonies still threatening the world, a debt of nearly a million merits hanging over her head, a school waiting to enroll her, and the weight of divine parentage she was only beginning to comprehend.

But right now, in this moment, with her family around her and the chaos of the day finally settling...

Right now was enough.

Green appeared at the doorway, fractured emerald eyes soft in the low light.

”Goodnight, children,” she said quietly. ”All of you.”

And one by one, they drifted into sleep.