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The winter winds swayed the branches of the ancient trees, with their sturdy and serene trunks. While some in that forest had not resisted the inconsistencies of men, others had accompanied the passage of time and generations, witnesses to the rise and fall of kingdoms, silent constants in the changing history of humanity, gods in their own right.
The small animals, insects and flowers - the movement of life - that had returned to the mountain, even after the catastrophes of which it had been victim of, were now hiding, awaiting the return of the warmth of spring.
The once forgotten god stood at the foot of the mountain. He tried to recognize the entrance path he had used in his childhood, which seemed to have been lifetimes ago, even though he knew it was a vain attempt. The branches with brownish leaves were younger than he was.
With a silent sigh, he tried to smile as a way of encouraging himself, but when he recognized the muscular mechanisms of his face activating in the form of a false expression, he gave up and let them relax.
There was no one there to judge him.
He began climbing the mountain, his steps crushing dry leaves and branches. The wind, which had calmed down a few moments ago, began to roar again, small needles of ice hitting his exposed face, the humidity reaching his bones. The god, however, no longer noticed them. For many, many years, sensations like these had been registered by only a small part of his consciousness that was now anesthetized - still there, but increasingly easy to ignore.
A solitary figure in the middle of the mountain, camouflaged in the snow with his white clothes, his long brown hair flowing below his straw hat. His only belongings were a bundle wrapped around his back, a white silk bandage showing under his right sleeve and a necklace with a ring hanging from his chest, protected under his clothes, close to his heart.
Following an improvised route for almost an hour, he stopped and looked carefully around. It was where, lifetimes ago, he supposed - according to the time it took to reach it - there used to be a resting and meditative place near his palace, with his ancient temple a few minutes’ walk above. Now, it was a dense patch of forest.
His golden-brown eyes fell upon a tree with a thick trunk, larger than all the others he had passed on the way up, gigantic with its snow-laden branches stretching for yards and yards, magnificent even in its skeletal form.
He approached it, careful of the thick roots that took hold of the soil, and placed his hand on its trunk, feeling a slight vibration—in his long years of cultivation, he had learned to refine the ability to recognize the vibration of life, of energy, in all living beings.
This tree vibrated with an ancient, familiar energy, as old as his own. When he had been a boy, a young prince still protected by the naivety of childhood, this tree should have been just a sapling. Even after the fall of the Xianle Kingdom, with the war and fires started in the region by his own betrayed people, this tree had resisted and persevered for years and years, withstanding all the seasons and changes, growing, enduring, and transforming into the magnificent monument that it was now.
Xie Lian felt a change in his rigid face and realized that he was smiling, a hot tear falling from his eye. His first sincere smile since his beloved had… since he had last seen him.
He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, the smile turning into a long sigh. He shook his arms and legs, as if trying to cheer himself up.
With his shoulders resolute, he placed his hands on his waist and nodded to himself, looking around, eyes slightly shining. Yes! This place would be perfect.