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The Fated Five Chapter 1 (The Staff of Wukong) Written by Trickster_D and Leo_Todrius Commissioned by Wolfboyx9

One by one, the molecules of water began to freeze, crystallizing as they descended from the heavens. Each one was unique, different, strange and wonderful. The water hardened, flattened, stretched and striated. Some looked like etched glass, others like dumbbells, some silicon chips... but only under a microscope. From a distance they were all alike, white and unassuming, fluttering down in nearly blinding waves. They fell across the entire state in blankets, but somehow it felt like they were targeting Signet University's campus in particular.

The flood of white had hidden the grassy, muddy quad from view. It obscured the meandering cement paths that connected the buildings. It built up in dunes around the bases of the dormitories and it glittered beneath the amber glow of the lamp posts. There was something deeply romantic and lonely about watching the snow fall at four in the morning from a tiny cinderblock walled dorm room... It was the perfect and most terrible view to accompany a grieving heart.

Song Wei had never been a tall boy, probably reaching five feet and a half when he gelled his short black hair up in a spiky look... but he had never looked - and felt - smaller than in that very moment, his arms clutched around his arms, his black eyes reddened, tears trapped in the corners. The Chinese youth was sitting on his bed, a blanket wrapped around him, his chin resting on his knees; from time to time, pitiful and long sighs escaped from his lips.

Even at night, the whiteness of the world outside was almost blinding, so much so that Song had to divert his gaze from the snow out there... but he always ended up looking outside again. It was like the whole world was mourning with him. A world of white. A world the color of death.

For the first time in his life - the very first time, back from his very first memories, of his tiny hands pulling a short grey beard and a pair of amused and gentle eyes smiling at him - Song was feeling completely and irrevocably lost. The person he had admired the most, the one he had always wanted to make proud, the one who had taught him with infinite patience... was not part of this world anymore.

Even some newscasts and newspapers talked about his untimely demise. Wei Bohei, renowned explorer and peacekeeper... A couple of the guys living in the dorm - the few who actually knew who Song was, at least - had stopped by to awkwardly say they were sorry before excusing themselves. That was what the dead of the night was made of, though: so that Song could mourn and cry his grandpa in peace, with nobody bothering him.

It almost felt as if time itself had slowed down, the world taking its time to cope and adjust. So many people in so many countries were mourning, just like Song, for his grandfather. Bohei had been inspirational and unconventional. He held no official station, but he visited so many countries and talked with leaders and religious figures and charity organizations. He had even done a comedy tour once for the troops. He was enigmatic, unique, and an ever looming role model casting quite the long shadow... even though he himself hadn't been much taller than his grandson.

"Song... It doesn't matter if your body is short," Bohei had told his grandson once, after he had been bullied at school because of his tiny frame. "When you stand on top of your achievements, you will be taller than anyone else, and in the meantime you can always find a better view."

"And what have I achieved, grandpa?" Song murmured in the present, as if the spirit of his dead relative was there with him, in that tiny college room. "If anything, I feel like I'm even shorter than I actually am... " A small and bitter smile appeared on his lips. "But I guess you were right about the view. I think you would've liked it too..." He said, his eyes once again lost in the snow. He needed to get ready for his short leave, to go back to his hometown and help his mom and the rest of the family with the funeral... but at least for the moment, the only thing he wanted to do was stare at the snow, and think about his dead grandpa.

---

The funeral had been simple and intimate, just like Bohei would have wanted. His body had already been cremated and - as his will dictated - the urn containing his ashes now rested on a small table in a corner of the family living room. Song stared at the final resting place of his grandfather, his head cocked, his narrow eyes even narrower than the usual: he couldn't really believe Bohei had chosen something so cheap-looking, all swirling dragons and random Chinese characters painted in an amateurish way on the surface. It looked like some novelty piece.

"I know, right?" Xian Wei said, standing right behind her son, a wry smile on her angular face. Her eyes, too, were watery and full of sadness, but her back was straight, her expression was full of quiet determination and her hand closed over Song's shoulder in an affectionate gesture. "Doesn't seem like something your grandpa would've wanted unless it was some kind of joke... but he was adamant about that. He bought it some years ago, who knows where, and..."

"Will you be alright, mom?" Song interrupted her, before turning around and giving her a quick but firm hug. His mother looked down at him and gave him another smile.

"Of course! I have the restaurant to take care of, and your aunt and cousins literally live next door! And, I mean, it's not like dad was that much around anyway, you know..." The woman sighed, her hand suddenly clutching a silk handkerchief. "Always longing for another place, that man..." The sadness in her voice, however, almost immediately left place to a genuinely-sounding calmness. "Why don't we take a cup of green tea? I know I need some."

Ten minutes later, Song and Xian were sitting in the cozy kitchen, an old teapot - Bohei's favorite, Song noticed with a small pang of sorrow - bubbling on the burner. The woman poured the boiling liquid in two ceramic cups, and Song let the familiar herbal aroma slither into his nostrils like a snake made out of smoke and reach his brain, before he took a small sip.

"So... did you find a nice guy in college?" Xian asked suddenly. Song almost spit his tea, trying not to choke on it as he kept it in.

"M-mom! What the heck?!" he exclaimed, his ears getting scarlet red. The woman smirked and gave him a casual gesture.

"Well, what's wrong with that? I just want you to find yourself a good man, you know. Start a family, adopt a couple of grandkids for me... and, I mean, one day someone will have to inherit the restaurant!" she said in a cheerful tone.

"It's still embarrassing, okay?" Song murmured, his eyes lost in the dark depths of the green tea. "And talking about something like that right after grandpa's funeral is extremely disrespectful." Xian's expression didn't change that much.

"Your grandfather wouldn't have gotten offended by something like that," she replied with a smile that was as playful as those of her father. "And I just wanted to cheer you up, you know? That's what dad would have wanted. Remember what he always said? 'Whenever you cry...'"

"'...you are denying yourself a smile.' Yeah," Song completed for her, before sighing. "But no, I haven't met anyone yet."

"You should try harder, then!" Xian replied. "Go outside! Have fun! That's what your grandpa would have wanted too."

"I... I know." Song lowered his eyes again. "I'm going to miss him, mom," he added, his voice cracking. Xian placed her cup of tea back on the table, and her strong hands - the hands of a hard-worker - closed over her son's fingers.

"We're all going to miss him," she said in a quiet voice, unable to completely hide her inner turmoil and sorrow. Song nodded, his lips pursed.

"Yeah, but..." But I'm going to miss him much more than everyone else, was what Song almost said. He had always felt a special connection towards Bohei, something that was way deeper than what simple words could express. His grandpa had been the one who had taught him how to read mandarin, who had explained him - or at least tried to - the mysteries of tai chi, meditation and enlightenment, of practical jokes and the meaning of life... and he had also been the very first person Song had come out to. He had been the father that Song had never known, and one of his best friends... and now he was gone. Gone forever. "It's... it's hard."

"I know," Song's mother replied, her voice only shaking a little. "I know."

---

The door to the dorm room swung open after being hit by the duffel bag, impacting the wood wall of the closet on the side. The air smelled a bit stale after Song's brief departure, but it wouldn't take long to freshen up or get used to it. Song had forgotten to close the blinds all the way when he left and now the bright sunlight reflecting off the melting snow slipped in through the gaps, making the room almost blinding. Living alone, nothing ever changed while Song was away... at least never before. It seemed today was different.

Resting against the wood frame of Song's elevated bed was his grandfather's intricately carved walking stick. That staff had been with Bohei for longer than Song's mother had been alive. It had swirling carved vines rising up around the base, sinking into a more ornamental top piece covered with Chinese angular lines and points. Propped up against a stone orb on the counter in front of the window was a red paper envelope with Song's name scrawled out in mandarin.

Song grabbed the envelope with trembling hands: the red paper felt old and rough under his fingers, made paler by the passing of time... but the ink glistened, as if the signs had been traced only mere minutes before his arrival. A couple million questions bounced up and down the young man's head: who had gotten their hands on grandpa's walking stick? Where did that letter come from? Who brought those two things in his college dorm room? And who managed to enter a locked room in the first place just to do that? Was that mysterious person an old friend of his grandpa? One of the students? And why do something like that in the first place? Why couldn't that person simply give the stick and the letter to him directly?

Of all those questions, Song only had the answer for one: he knew the hand who had traced those ideograms... that letter had unmistakably been written by Bohei. With a heavy heart and a cold, hard lump in his throat, Song opened the envelope and pulled a single, delicate sheet of paper out of it and began to read.

_My happy Song; I know on this day your heart does not feel that old music that we used to share. I know that the world outside feels far away and muffled - But it won't be that way forever.

It would be impossible to remember every single walk we took through the forest behind my house, but our hearts will remember for us. It will remember every joke, every prank, every tall tale and every wisdom we ever shared. That is how I will always be with you.

Your life will be changing soon in ways you can't even begin to imagine. It will be scary, it will be amazing. You need to embrace it, all of it, and make it a part of yourself. It won't be easy, but it will be rewarding. The best testament to my life is for you to make your song a happy one.

With mirth and eternal love -Wei Bohei_

Song had to stop reading halfway through, during the first two attempts. He didn't want his tears to ruin the last letter his grandpa had sent him. After he had finally managed to muster enough inner strength to read the whole thing without crying, he carefully placed the sheet of paper on his desk and climbed up onto his bed, pulling the walking stick up after him. The piece of wood was perfectly balanced, light but with good mass. Song pulled it to his chest, clutching it firmly in his hands, almost wishing it were a bit heavier so it could rest on him with the weight it deserved... but that thought was fleeting. Song lay on his back, feeling empty and exhausted; he closed his eyes, placing the ornate top piece of the staff right on his forehead. One of the curved edges rested perfectly in the small crook at the top of Song's nose. He could smell a very faint scent coming from the ancient wood... something balsamic and so familiar it hurt his heart.

In that soul felt pang of pain, there was a faint gold flash from the top of the staff that washed over Song and sank into him. He still felt empty and exhausted, but there was a strange languid peace settling into his limbs, as if they had been freed of a great tension that had been seizing them for a lifetime.

---

In his dream, Song was walking through a luscious forest, under a never ending green roof of lustrous leaves, surrounded by the calls of countless different birds; it wasn't a real place, which was one of the reasons why Song immediately realized it was a dream, but some sort of flawless and extremely vivid collage of all the wooded areas he had ever visited in his life. It clearly was rooted in the forest behind the Wei household, but there were so many more elements tucked and twisted into the vision.

The other reason why that was clearly a dream was because his grandfather was still alive. He walked alongside Song, sometimes surging ahead, sometimes lagging along, always leaning on his ornate walking stick. His sideburns were as bushy and unruly as ever, his silver hair windswept, his face wrinkled from a lifetime of grinning.

"Figures," Song said, his voice a little bitter, even though he couldn't suppress the smile naturally appealing on his lips: even if it was just a byproduct of his REM cycle, it was nice to see Bohei once again. "Of course I ended up dreaming about you, grandpa."

"Well it may be selfish of me, but I'd be hurt if you weren't thinking of me enough to dream of me, dreams can show you what's really important my Song." Bohei chuckled, maneuvering over an old log. Song grinned back, while one of his hands grabbed a nearby branch as he sniffed at a large, spearhead-shaped leaf: the subtle yet powerful scent of chlorophyll filled his nostrils. He had never had a dream as vivid as that one.

"You are right... you were really important to me," Song murmured. "You still are." A moment of silence. "Who brought that letter and your staff in my room? ...well, it's not like you'd know, since you only exist inside my dream, but..."

"In my long life I met a lot of friends... And I called in a favor or two. I knew you and your mother needed to focus on the funeral before you moved on to anything else." Bohei said, falling a bit behind Song for a moment, his smile a bit sadder than his usual. Song chuckled.

"Yeah, that's totally what grandpa would've said... He had tons of friends. Some of them really weird, now that I think about it."

"Song, are you over thinking this? You should be enjoying the moment, not looking in from the outside." Bohei chuckled, stretching his stick over to gently tap Song on the head, "If you are too busy dissecting this moment, you won't be ready for what's coming... And there is a lot that is coming." Bohei warned. Song massaged his head, his brow furrowed; for a moment, it actually felt like he had been bopped for real.

"Granpda, you're dead. Not that much to enjoy at the moment, don't you think?" the young man grumbled. Bohei laughed at that.

"Well, not this particularly, but there's never nothing to laugh at... " Bohei said, coming to a stop. He took a deep breath and then smiled, looking at his grandson, "I have always known you were destined for great things, Song. It isn't just the optimism of an old man for his favorite grandson... " Bohei said, trying not to look away, "You are about to start on a very important path. You have inherited a lot more from me than just my charming good looks. It will all begin to make sense soon. I just ask that you embrace it, that you let it in, and that you never lose sight of your heart." Bohei said softly. In Song's mind's eye, the image of his grandfather sort of twitched for a moment, not looking quite right. There was a hint of another image, almost like a computer glitch; larger ears, a wider smile, wilder hair, but then the image was gone, back to normal. Song rubbed his hands over his eyes, before blinking repeatedly.

"What... are you talking about?" Song murmured. "Is this really a dream? Should I... pinch myself or something?"

"Song, I love you... Just promise me you'll be true to yourself." Bohei said, but Song could already feel reality tugging at him. He was aware of the weight of his arms and legs, the texture of the comforter against his skin. The glitches got worse around him, leaving his grandfather looking like some sort of hybrid creature of a man and a monkey, standing tall and proud, grizzled and handsome. The sky at the edge of the trees was strange, violet colored, stars poking through the light.

"Who... What are you?" Song said, but the sound of his own voice was extremely muffled, as if he was screaming during a thunderstorm. He tried to lift an arm, as if to touch the creature in front of him and ascertain his existence, but he felt like his limbs were made of unmovable marble.

"I'm your grandfather, Song, but I'm also something more... We both are." Bohei's voice echoed into the void between realms before reality hit Song and he was back in his own body, barely awake but in consciousness nevertheless.

The young man panted, staring at the ceiling of his room. A pale, muddy light was filtering through the window: the dream - or whatever that was - had apparently lasted the whole night. Song's body felt heavy and slow, his forehead glistening in sweat; with a supreme effort he managed to lower his eyes, and noticed that his hands were grasping Bohei's walking stick so hard his knuckles were pearly white. It took Song a couple of minutes, but as he tried to relax and to regulate the rhythm of his breathing - another trick he had learned from his grandpa - he could feel his limbs and body getting lighter and lighter. Finally, he managed to climb out of the bed and stretched his arms, and a tiny sensation of surprise bubbled in his chest: he was actually feeling much better, the best he had felt in days, since he had gotten the news of Bohei's death.

"Nngh..." Song grumbled as his mind once again focused on his grandfather, on his wise happy face and on his iconic laughter... but there was still something weird, that bizarre afterimage from his dream superimposed over the Bohei he knew and loved. It was as if what he had experienced during the night had infected all his memories, corrupting them. "Maybe I need a walk outside. It'll help me clear my mind," Song said to the empty room. The boy started walking towards the door, before he realized he was still holding the ornate staff in his hand. After a moment's hesitation he shrugged: that object had belonged to Bohei, so it would have been like going on a walk with his grandfather... just like in the dream.

---

The air outside the dormitory was beyond crisp, it was almost a biting cold with an overly humid fog hanging across the snow covered ground. The sun had barely climbed up to the edge of the horizon, and even then it had to fight blankets of clouds. The result was a faint, dull periwinkle glow that complemented the blue glow of the light posts along the foot paths. Song shivered as graceful plumes of frosted breath escaped from his lips, feeling tiny tentacles of chill trying to invade his shoes and the inside of his jacket. The tip of Bohei's ornate staff sank into the snow with Song's every step, though it took the boy a bit to realize that he was putting more and more of his weight on the walking stick, as if it was a natural extension of his body.

Even though his limbs were feeling much better and less sore, Song's mind was still fuzzy, probably even more than before: every time he tried to focus on the memories he had of Bohei, the image of his grandfather was still muddled by the presence of the mysterious monkey man of his dream; it was as if he and Bohei were superimposed to one another, like a blurred picture. The Chinese young man tried again to shrug it off as he kept walking down the path.

"What's wrong with my head?" he murmured to himself. "I mean, okay, this is the year of the monkey, but that's ridiculous!" Nobody, however, laughed at his lame attempt at joking; nobody was around in the first place, after all; Song was trapped in a silent, immaculate, perfect fragment of winter. It was so surreal that, for a moment, he was sure that he was going to raise his gaze and see the curved, crystal ceiling of a giant snow globe right above his head... But it was that weird thought that gave him an idea of where to go. A glass ceiling, a place where to find the peace and the relax he needed... A small smile appeared on Song's lips, as he began to trudge towards the school's prestigious greenhouse. He was pretty sure no gardening club member was going to be around that early, so he could enjoy his own comfortable pocketful of summer in the middle of a sea of snowy whiteness all by himself.

As he kept walking towards his goal, Song's train of thoughts brought him back to monkeys; there was something odd in the way the memories of his grandfather had apparently changed, and yet, at the same time, something incredibly familiar... it was only when he once again felt the muffled sound of the walking cane sinking into the snow that all the pieces of the puzzle connected.

"Of course... Sun Wukong," he murmured to himself. Sun Wukong, the Monkey King. One of the most famous and renowned characters of the Chinese folklore and trickster extraordinaire. Song had a lot of fond memories of him as a kid, sitting right next to grandpa Bohei, and reading an illustrated edition for children of the Journey to the West, detailing the travels of the Monkey King and the monk Xuanzang towards the faraway land of India. Song just had to close his eyes to remember Bohei's warm, deep voice reading about Sun's trickeries, or the warm, thick, fuzzy fur covering his arms, or the long dexterous tail tickling Song's legs...

Song stopped walking all of a sudden, his expression confused and frustrated. No, that wasn't true: his grandpa was just a regular person. Well, more like an exceptionally clever and resourceful person, but still a human being...

Song's thoughts were interrupted by a scraping sound up ahead. It was before dawn on a weekend, the odds of any other student willingly being awake at that hour were remote, unless they had stayed up all night. The sound grew louder, the source ever closer until Song rounded the corner and nearly bumped into the only other soul awake on campus at that hour. Clearly Song's presence hadn't been expected by the other figure, though the resting face of complete neutrality was not disrupted as another Asian face looked up at him.

Satoshi Kato, the name popped into Song's mind after a split second. During orientation the two had been mistaken for each other a few times despite the fact that Satoshi was of Japanese ancestry while Song was Chinese, but the mistakes didn't last very long. Satoshi had grown his hair out in feathered layers, dying a few streaks a bold red in color. He'd experimented with eyeliner and found a method of making his eyes look even darker, and the burgundy and black striped long sleeve shirt sticking out from beneath his red sweatshirt had become a sort of uniform in its own right. The scraping sound had come from the hockey stick he was dragging along the ground, apparently a match to the jersey slung over his shoulder.

"Hey." Satoshi's relatively deep voice cut through the cold air and the sticky fog, breaking the moment just enough that he could sideline around Song and continue on his way, disappearing back into the morning from whence he had come, no longer drawing attention to himself with the scraping of the hockey stick.

"H-hey," Song replied, even though Satoshi had already vanished in the mist. He had barely interacted with the Japanese hockey player until that moment - that was actually the first time Satoshi had spoken directly to him - but Song had often watched at him from afar, appreciating the reluctant athletic hero, never mustering enough courage to approach him. He envied Satoshi's bravado, the fact that he never seemed to care about anyone else's opinion... and his voice was a pleasure for the ears.

Song wouldn't have minded someone like that as a boyfriend... but Satoshi seemed totally out of his league. With a small, soft sigh, the Chinese boy resumed his trek towards the greenhouses that slowly emerged from the fog like castles made out of ice and smoke. The university's arboretum surpassed any greenhouse in the state, covering more square footage and boasting an almost record breaking diversity of plant life. While the university wasn't necessarily a top destination for many, it did draw in horticulturists from the world over. Thankfully for Song, none of them wanted to be awake that early on such a cold day.

The interior of the greenhouse, of course, wasn't cold at all. Even after only taking a mere couple of steps in, Song had to take away his jacket, as small droplets of sweat started rolling down his forehead. A bouquet of different smells invaded his nostrils, most of them pleasant and exotic (even though Song knew for sure there were a couple of Rafflesia flowers nestled somewhere among the plants, with their awful stench of decaying flesh); it was like having a tropical jungle right next to home. Song was sure Bohei would have loved the place, and he could have probably named at least half of the trees and bushes and flowers in there: the encyclopedic knowledge his grandfather had always displayed about a variety of different topics was almost baffling, so much so that Xian and Song had often teased him about trying his luck with a quiz show. Bohei had always quipped that he didn't like Tribec's attitude and he'd wait until someone with a bit more flare got their own show.

"And by the way, knowledge is worthy enough by itself," he had always added with a grin. "Trying to exploit it for money would be a way to demean it."

Song moved around the greenhouse with ease: he had often took refuge there in order to find peace and a place to meditate, so he knew all the best and most secluded spots, and most of all where to walk in order not to inadvertently step over thousands of dollars worth of orchids. There were even some simple wooden benches scattered here and there in the huge glass building, and that was exactly where Song was headed, Bohei's walking stick rhythmically tapping against the stepping stones.

At the farthest edge of the greenhouse was a corner that received little attention. It was near an exhibit of untamed wilderness, allowing the trees and ferns to grow unchecked as an experiment. The hexagonal panels of frosted glass diffused the light in an almost dream-like fashion. There was even a small pond across from the wood bench where koi swirled and circled in calm repose. While Bohei loved his fun and games, Song knew he would have appreciated such an intimate spot. There was a lot of the old man in him. They were so close for his whole life. With careful movements, Song sat on the grass right in front of the koi pond, placing the staff next to him really slowly, as if it was a very ancient and fragile relic of a forgotten time (which could very well be).

"Okay, grandpa. Talk to me. I'm all ears," the young man said, sitting in the lotus position, his eyes closed and his breathing rhythm as regular as he could. He felt a bit silly in talking with his dead relative, but there was something in that place - a strange and mystical aura - that in a way made Song feel as the barrier between the world of the living and the other side could grow thin enough for them to communicate.

Unfortunately, Bohei seemed to hold a different opinion. No magical gust of wind came to murmur words into Song's ears, no voice speaking in his head. There was only silence. The young man tried to focus his thought on the memories of his grandfather, but they were still muddled by that weird Sun Wukong's look-alike; no matter how much he tried to get rid of the monkey man, he still stood there with a grin on his bearded face, as if he was taunting him.

As Song was growing increasingly restless, his right hand gripped around the decorated staff propped up next to him, and he suddenly remember something: his grandfather had already talked to him, after all. The dream was still vivid and clear in his mind, as if it was a movie he had just finished watching.

"You are about to start on a very important path. It will all begin to make sense soon. I just ask that you embrace it." That was what the Bohei in his dream had told him... And maybe that was the answer he was looking for. Once again, his mind went back to one of the memories he had shared with Bohei, and once again the monkey man was standing where his grandfather should have been. Song hesitated, but only for a second.

"Grandpa..." he murmured, staring at the monkey man straight into the eyes. Bohei slowly grinned, nodding.

"At last you see, my Song." Bohei said softly. Song gulped, his body trembling.

"You... You look like Sun Wukong. The Monkey King from that story..."

"There's a very good reason for that... I am. At least, I'm an incarnation of him..."

"W-what?! That's... That's..." Song was a literal loss of words. He was talking to a memory of his dead grandfather, and that wasn't even the most absurd and bizarre part. Bohei reached out, resting a fuzzy hand on his grandson's shoulder.

"Everything I told you about Sun Wukong was true... They weren't just legends. Well, perhaps a little bit legendary, you know I love a tall tale... But it was true. We are descendants of Sun Wukong, and with my passing you are destined to become Song Wukong." Bohei said with a mixture of pride and gentleness.

"I'm... I'm sorry, what?" Song felt confused, a bit scared, nervous and strangely excited. He could feel the staff he had just inherited making his sweaty palm prickle, as if it was traversed by a low electrical current.

"You are destined for greatness... For mirth and mercy, for playfulness and meaning. You are more special than you know, and you will reshape the world. You are as you have always been, my wonderful grandson... and Song Wukong." Bohei whispered. The tiny prickle in his palm became a bolt of electricity, spreading up through his body. His muscles relaxed and tightened at the same time, giving him an odd sensation of tranquility. Tiny crackles of electricity jumped through his hair, making it stand up a bit more on end. The building energy suffused him, but it built up more and more at the base of his spine, a prelude to something more.

What started as a pressure felt more and more like a knot. His ass cheeks quivered and slowly parted, the flesh bulged and then without warning there was an eruption. Inches of furry, thick monkey tail shot out from above Song's waist line, forcing his pants down a bit as the whip like appendage emerged. The sudden rush was almost as good as an orgasm. It felt as something that had been trapped inside him for so long was finally free.

Song panted, his eyes snapping open. He was feeling full of energy and at the same time he couldn't move a single muscle of his body. His new tail waved and slithered behind his back like a snake in the grass, as if it had a life of its own. He felt like fire, like wind, like a mighty rock and like streaming water all the same time. It was weird, and exhilarating... And something entirely new. The energy pouring out of the staff was affecting more than just him. His clothes started to deteriorate, drying out and losing their color before all at once they erupted into a cascade of fall leaves, dropping to the ground in their myriad of warm colors.

Standing naked in his private glade, backlit by the greenhouse walls, it was easier to see the electricity dancing across his flesh, creeping up to his face. His cheeks tingled as super soft hairs pushed out in ample number, filling in with thick sideburns. The backs of his hand sprouted copious fur, as did his arms. It rippled upward, covering his arms, sweeping across his back and over his ass. Even his legs were getting fuzzy, though his chest was taking on a different sort of change. While it remained furless for the moment, his pectorals and abs were hardening, tightening, and taking on more definition that some of the school's athletes. He was inheriting the body of a warrior as well as a monkey god.

With a grin that looked noticeably larger than before, Song raised a fuzzy hand and pinched one of his meaty, protruding nipples as his fingernails darkened and became harder, sending a different kind of electricity through his body. The young man moaned, as the power inside him started converging towards the lower part of his body, and especially his groin. What had once been a well groomed bush began to grow wily and unkempt, threatening to overtake the manhood extending from there... but it was not to be outdone.

A new pleasure flooded Song's mind with intense pleasure as the cells in his shaft started to accelerate their life spans, producing more mass and girth and length. Even without hardening it was stretching longer and thicker, but that sensation doubled down on the pleasure and before long the monkey's 'staff' was becoming erect as well. The mighty meat stretched before Song, standing proudly, surpassing his wildest imagination for prowess and length. It felt so good it made his toes curl, but that too brought an intriguing realization into Song's mind. The monkey boy flexed the toes of his left foot rhythmically, and another wicked grin forced his now fuller lips to distend.

"I wonder..." he murmured. With the grace of a yoga master, he shifted his weight and began to stand on one leg. The other rose with artful ease, allowing his now longer and magnitudes more dexterous toes to wrap around his thick monkey shaft. With care he started pumping up and down. "Oh, fuck yeah..." Song's eyes rolled in the back of his head as he gave himself the weirdest and most pleasurable footjob ever.

The changes continued to wash over his body, rippling through every fiber of his being. His tail grew longer, his shaft grew thicker, his pectorals were more pronounced. Honey brown streaks grew out through his otherwise dark hair, and the fuzzy mutton chops on his cheeks grew thicker still. His body finally felt like home, it finally felt right. There was no pain or discomfort, only contentment... He had found his destiny, the destiny promised to him through countless childhood stories.

Song's flexible back arched, his tail swishing through the air. His tongue licked his lips, as his canine teeth evolved, extending outward into small but pointed fangs. He could feel his balls churning in his scrotum, getting plumper and fuller of musky, powerful seed, all while his prostate throbbed with the promise of more adult fun than he had ever experienced before.

With each pump of his dexterous monkey foot, clear sticky pre oozed out squirt after squirt. Song's ears tilted further away from his head, allowing him to hear the slightest secretion of his manly juices.

"F-fuck..." he moaned, feeling just how sticky his plump dick was already. The grip of his new monkey foot was firm yet impossibly delicate; his dark tail was swishing behind his lithe, muscled back like a furry whip, twitching in bliss. His changes were nearing their completion, his human body altered by a mysterious, mystical power... But something was still needed, in order to seal the transformation once and for all.

It was common sense to expect what would come next, but somehow it still caught Song off guard. It was like a dawning of a new light in his brain, sending waves of energy out through his body faster than the speed of light. His brain struggled to catch up, but before he knew it his extremely long monkey cock was quivering in the palm of his foot. The plump head spasmed and a thick, long rope of yellowed monkey semen arched out and splattered across the thick grasses of the greenhouse.

The ejection of such vital juices was accompanied by a body wide tingling, feeling as if he'd been dipped into a vat of love... but then there came another jet, then another before his cock began unleashing an unending volley of semen like a fire hose. The shower splattered across the grass and the rocks, spilled into the fountain, and caught on tiny branches like webs. The body wide tingling intensified, building up from his feet to his waist to his shoulders before washing over his head once more.

The power in Song's body solidified with the consummation of his new body. A brief flash of light snapped from his body before he was left standing in the waning glow of the most intense orgasm of his life. Song stood in his demoralized yoga pose, cock in foot, air washing over his muscled, furry monkey boy body. Of all the things that had changed, his dark eyes remained just as they had been, peering out from an oddly animal and yet handsome primate face.

The new receptacle of Sun Wukong got back on his now prehensile feet with a fluid, elegant movement, and looked down at his new and improved body. A soft murr escaped from his lips as his flexible hands caressed the thick pelt of dark fur on his arms. It was so much better than petting a cat as he felt both the gratifying sensation of petting fur, as well as being pet.

"This is... Awesome," he said to himself with a big, charming smile. He wasn't human anymore, that was for sure, but he didn't care in the least. That was who he had always been destined to become, and it felt so natural and so right.

A short distance away, caught in the frosted glass of the greenhouse walls, Song could see a strange double reflection. He saw his new self, primal and free, but he also saw an echo of his former self... By some magic, some glamor, reality itself was bending to project a human version of Song... though it seemed some things couldn't be ignored. His human guise still had streaks of honey brown in his otherwise dark hair, and his muscles were magnificent in any form. He hadn't grown an inch, he was still five feet six... But his body looked amazing, and probably because he was still that short, the muscle growth was even more noticeable. Song stroke a few joking poses, watching in wonder as the small but incredibly hard balls of his biceps inflated under his skin and fur. For the first time he felt completely content and confident in his body. With a quick gesture he grabbed the ornate staff from the ground with one of his prehensile feet and tossed it in the air, before grabbing it with his right hand.

"There cannot be a Wukong without his staff, after all," he said with an impish grin.

---

Back in the simple comfort of his room, Song was lying on his bed, still completely naked, caressing the hard ridges of his brand new six pack with sensitive fingers. Even his furless abdominal skin felt tougher and more resilient.

"Mmmh, feels so great..." he murmured with a satisfied smile, glad to finally be a bit warmer. The trickiest part of the whole change had been to find a way to go back to the dorm unnoticed. Song had tried to conjure back his clothes from the pile of autumn leaves with no avail, and any attempt to change the glamour around his new body had proved to be unsuccessful, no matter how hard he had focused on a mental image of his favorite denim jeans and jacket. Luckily, the fog had managed to give him a good enough cover, and since it was still awfully early in the morning only the most dutiful of the sports team members were awake already.

"Well, I guess it's something I'll learn in due time," he said, smirking at the staff lying next to him. "Right, grandpa?" The piece of wood, of course, didn't reply with actual words, but now Song could feel its quiet but incredible power pulsating through the complex inlay work. Something of Bohei was still inside it, that was for sure... Just as a part of him was now inside Song.

"Fuck, this body is so full of energy..." Song said to himself, his tail twitching and wrapping around one of his legs. It felt really difficult for him not to focus his attention on his member. "Guess that's why you were always busy doing stuff around the world, grandpa."

Focusing on the outside environment didn't help either. Despite the dorm walls being made of cinder block, Song's improved hearing was picking up a sound on the far side of his room. There was a rhythmic tapping, the sound of wrist against the wood of a chair, hitting over and over again. Song wasn't sure if he recalled correctly, but he was pretty sure his neighbor's name was Wade Frost. He saw him skateboarding around campus daily... And he had also seen him on the screen of his own cellphone.

Wade was the very first result in the gay networking app Song had installed on his phone, but despite the fact that he was so close to him, he had never had the guts to ask him out. It didn't matter if it was for a coffee and some friendly chats, he had always believed Wade to be way out of his league... Until today, at least. Now Song was feeling like he could grab the whole world with his own hands, and there was one target just a door away. With casual gestures, he grabbed the first pair of shorts and a random t-shirt and put them on, even though he felt bad at the thought of covering his wonderful fur and his glorious muscles. The long tail waved freely behind his back, poking out from over the elastic band of the shorts. For a moment he pondered about putting some shoes on, but decided against it: he felt much more at ease with the thick, leathery soles of his prehensile feet reading the ground for him.

"Well, well..." Song said, walking towards the door of his room. "Let's see how horny you are...." The Asian boy stepped out into the corridor and peered up the hall. Song's dorm was considered to be a freshman and sophomore dorm given its spartan accommodations and ease to find a room in. It tended to be dead by day and popping by night. While small, the students had managed to give each of their rooms some distinct personality, but with the doors short there wasn't any way to tell. Each door had been emblazoned with name tags by the resident advisor, complete with paper cut snowflake and foam letter names. Song had wandered by his neighbor's door a few times, having no reason to go further up the hallway other than exploration. This time was different.

As Song advanced, his big, sensitive ears caught the same rhythmic noise as before, and his improved nose picked up a subtle but persistent smell coming from under the door of his neighbor's room... A waft of sweat and precum, horniness purified and unadulterated. While the walls had blocked some sound, now he could hear it all... The sound of flesh on flesh, of subtle moans and heavy breathing, blocked only by a wood barrier. Song licked his lips, as his monkey dick throbbed and pulsed in his shorts, creating an obvious and almost obscene bulge.

"Guess what they say about you is true, Frost... You are a horny little slut..." Song grinned, as he nonchalantly pushed the door to step inside. His past self would've been too shy and self-conscious to enter someone else's room uninvited, regardless of the circumstances, but the trickster spirit he was now simply didn't care. The door to the dorm room eased open, allowing the ambient light to spill out into the hall just ahead of a very musty, earthy aroma that sent Song's senses ablaze.

Wade let out a yelp of shock and stumbled to his feet, grabbing for a towel to wrap around his waist. Even with the terry cloth wrap, the rather fit eighteen year old wore nothing but the towel and a backwards baseball hat. His eyes were an earthy brown and his hair was the color of chestnut wood, descending down to his bare shoulders. The young man's right nipple was pierced, as were both ears with gold rings. His pierced bottom lip was a bit plumper than normal and his under arms betrayed an ample supply of hair. His face was bewildered and intrigued, shocked at being caught, but no words left his lips.

"I couldn't help but hearing you pleasuring yourself, Frost..." Song's mouth distended into a wide grin: Wade was incredibly cute, like the ultimate boy next door... Quite literally. His body was athletic and lean, his lips looked perfect to suck cocks, and his round, perky bubble butt was tantalizing to see under the white towel.

So focused on the presence of a nearly naked co-ed, it had been easy to overlook the dorm room behind him. At first it seemed exactly as Song might have expected; the floor was littered with clothing, his school work was messily sprawled across the counter beneath the window, but other details started to stand out to Song the more he looked. Among posters on the walls for video games was a chart of minerals, and a few varieties of crystals sat on his desk. There was also a box of condoms in clear view next to his snack foods, and a bottle of lube next to his laptop.

"Oh dude, sorry, I... I tried to keep it down. I've been told I can be a bit of a screamer." Wade said, biting his bottom lip, "I didn't mean to disturb you dude." Song shook his head at the excuse as his tail - invisible to anyone else- swished through the air behind him and hit the door with enough strength to close it.

"I'm sorry, Frost, but that's not enough. You see, thanks to you I have a bad case of morning wood..." Song pulled down his shorts with a quick gesture, revealing his monkey boy dick in all his glory, a fat and crystal clear drop of precum already forming on its mushroom-shaped head. "You should do something to help me with this."

"Holy fuck, you're like the holy grail!" Wade moaned, a drop of drool spilling over his lip already as the towel fell to the floor. He looked back up, deep into Song's eyes, "I'm sorry I didn't make a move sooner, oh god, what I'd give to go through orientation with you." Wade whispered with a grin before he dropped down to his knees on the rough periwinkle carpet and leaned in. His eyes fluttered shut as his tongue emerged, finding the underside of Song's huge cock like a magnet to metal. In moments he was slathering up the shaft with his saliva before the lips slowly closed over the head of the monkey shaft presented before him.

The ease of it all, the confidence it had taken, was infectious to Song. His life had been revolutionized in a moment. What had been an impossible dream was now reality. It was a rush, physically and mentally as Wade started taking inch after inch of monkey cock into his mouth. A hand slipped up and started to massage Song's muscled stomach, the metal ring on his finger almost hot to the touch.

"Oh, fuck..." Song's back arched a bit as the bliss he received from Wade's lips and mouth started getting more and more intense. He could feel the guy's dexterous tongue stimulating all the good spots, making him feel sensations he would've never even dared to imagine. "You are a pro... Man, keep sucking..."

Wade's eyes snapped open and he looked up at Song with a very lusty, very proud slutty grin before he suddenly thrust his head forward, taking over a foot of meat into his mouth and down his experienced throat. The tip of the monkey king's cock had entered an undulating, massaging fortress of the skater's esophagus. The pleasure was so intense that Song nearly felt like he was seeing double. His vision flickered like a computer glitch, a ghostly echo overlaying Wade for the briefest of moments. It was hard to make out, but it was clearly masculine, almost demonic.

With a crazed grin, Song pulled out his dick from Wade's mouth, not without some disappointment; the monkey boy climbed on his neighbor's bed, lying on his powerful back, his legs wide open to show his dick glistening with precum and saliva.

"Come here, boy," he ordered, his voice a bit huskier and deeper than his usual. "Come and please your king." Wade shuddered and a half load of pearly white semen sprayed from the skater's shaft, splattering across the side of his bed and the carpet. He all but pounced onto the bed, moving to plunge his head down around the monkey meat once more. He'd always had a thing for those clearly in charge. Wade's head was bobbing up and down like a jackhammer, taking more and more in as he started to hump his own bed, smearing his seed across the red comforter.

Song grinned at that, and once again tried to focus on the weird afterimage he had seen superimposed for a split second over Wade's sexy body... But no matter how hard he tried, the elusive vision escaped his grasp. He could feel, however, that there was something weird inside Wade, something that was hovering inside his chest like a firefly in a clear August night; it was something akin to a flame, a weak but fascinating glimmer, a spark of pure, primal power that only needed to be ignited.

"I'm pretty sure you'll like this, boy..." the monkey king murmured as his tail slithered on the side of Wade's body, until the tip, like a prodding finger, started caressing and pushing against the elastic barrier of the skater's pucker, teasing the incredibly sensitive skin. Wade let out a deep muffled moan, his eyes glazed over with lust. He didn't understand what was going on, but he never wanted it to stop. If Song were to leave, Wade would follow him to the ends of the Earth. He sunk his head down lower, having to tilt his head precariously as he filled much more of his throat with the throbbing, thick primate phallus.

Finally, after some gentle but firm pushing, the tip of Song's tail made his way through Wade's sphincter, and began to caress the warm, moist walls of his partner's anus, seeking out and striking the flesh protecting the skater's prostate. Song smiled: he finally felt the connection he needed, the way to exert complete and total power over Wade's mortal body. It was exhilarating feeling that energy just beneath the surface, making it a mystery if everyone had that lurking inside them. Trying his best to ignore the physical pleasure he was receiving, Song closed his eyes and regularized his breathing; the power of the monkey king was boiling inside his chest, raw and primal. Song grinned, pushing part of that power down his dexterous tail, and shot a bullet of pure magical energy right inside Wade's body, hitting the small spark and making it burst into rust-colored flames.

Wade's back arched as he called out, gasping for breath around the cock in his mouth for but a moment before he realized it was not air that he needed most, but Song. He plunged back down, using his magical throat to entertain the cock of his most amazing lover. He sucked and slurped, all the while his ass muscles were clenching around the intruding tail. At the edge of Song's awareness, he could hear a very soft tone in some of the stones and crystals around the room. The monkey boy caressed Wade's wavy brown hair with a crooked smile on his face

"You seem to be in tune with earth..." he murmured in an almost inaudible voice. He could feel the faint residues of energy Wade had left on the pieces of his collection when he had touched and admired them... There was a tiny bit of love in each and every stone in the room, and Song managed to gather some of that love, sucking it in with a deep breath before sending a second jolt of energy through the skater's body. The power in Wade's chest, like an explosion, spread through his body like mystical shrapnel.

There was a quivering, even a quaking in the room as the stones responded to the energy unleashed. Wade seemed to fall into a trance, sucking and slurping on the monkey god cock in his mouth, but something was clearly happening. The fingernails raking through Song's fur started to darken from ivory to a deep brown. The tiny dusting of hair on Wade's chest began to thicken, becoming denser and more plentiful. The feet dangling off the bed began to contort and tighten, the flesh stiffening before all color started to drain away, something far more serious taking place.

Cell by cell, from the tips of Wade's toes all the way up to his ankle his flesh was hardening and turning to stone. It was a dark material with veins like marble, but it was solidifying and roughening, becoming denser. It reminded Song of his clothes reducing to leaves, but somehow seemed much more severe.

"Mmh... Yes, change for me, Frost..." the monkey boy purred in pleasure. His long-fingered hands caressed the skater's face, before they started caressing and gently pulling his ears. Wade maned more, letting out another huge jet of semen across his own bed. His ears stretched like clay in a master sculptor's hands, refining into elfin like points. Wade murmured deeply, taking Song's cock down his throat past his adam's apple. Looking down at the changing man before him, Song saw a strange stirring in the skater's forehead, pushing his hat upwards out of the way as two lumps formed near his hairline.

"Horns, huh? Well, let's see..." Song's fingertips rubbed against the twin bumps, feeling the bone right under the tensed skin. "I hope this won't hurt too much, Frost," he added, before he started to work his magic again. Wade murmured before sharp points erupted from his forehead. Blood dribbled down, but the emerging bone moved much faster. It turned upwards and sloped back, following the curve of his skull. With every centimeter that emerged, Wade came more as his semen started to thicken and yellow, taking on a far more animalistic texture.

The horns swept out of his skill like curling serpents, coming around the points of his ears, sloping back toward his cheek bones before at last they slowed. Song's hand grabbed Wade from under his chin, pulling him away from his dick, forcing his head upwards to get a good look at him. Wade was moaning and groaning, but clearly lost in his own world as his forehead glistened with sweat and his body kept doing what it knew how to do best.

"Mmh... You're a work of art, Frost. But it's time to put some hair on this body," he said, before his other hand caressed Wade's chin with firm but gentle gestures. With each gentle caress, Song could feel hair being coaxed from the chin. What had been shaved smooth was now fuzzy as countless strands of brown hair stretched out to meet the monkey king's touch. The monkey king kept petting the blooming beard of his first subject, marveling at its softness and fuzziness, enjoying the process of changing someone else's nature and very being with the simple touch of his fingers and a bit of ancient magic.

As Song helped the satyr's goatee to extrude from his body, there was a strange lingering power there rippling through both of them. With each tug of the goatee hair, the satyr's cock swelled as well... but something else was happening as well. Sprouting from the skin on Wade's right arm, just above the elbow, was something unexpected... a tiny tendril of plant. The green living thread began to spiral up around his arm, putting down roots, growing tiny leaves. Song's natural element was imprinting on Wade even though he was rooted in a different element entirely. Song's free hand caressed the tender leaves, green and fresh; the plant was like a jewel growing directly from Wade's skin. The monkey boy pushed the changing satyr on the bed, his cock ever proud and erect and ready for more action, his tail dislodging itself from Wade's asshole, leaving a gaping void behind.

"It's time to show your loyalty to your king, Frost..." he said in a confident tone and a smug grin. Wade looked up with soulful brown eyes, a six inch goatee hanging down over the monkey king's plump balls. He was ready to serve, but not sure how. Song, however, had never been so determined in his whole life: With speed and agility he withdrew himself from the satyr's mouth, grabbed Wade's thighs and pulled his body closer. The tip of Song's girthy cock found its place resting against the dilated pucker of the young satyr.

"It's time I claim you as my own," the monkey king said, impaling Wade's ass with one swift movement. No longer restricted to one single movement, Wade let out a howl of pleasure as he arched his back. The stone covering his lower legs exploded and crumbled into fine sand, revealing that his toes had merged and transformed, giving him hooves. He wrapped his legs around Song's back, finding them a home just above the king's powerful tail, holding on as he was impaled.

"Oh my king!" Wade called out, leaning down to lick at one of the pert, plump nipples on Song's chest. The monkey growled in bliss: his first masterpiece was almost completed and he was dangerously close to his own climax, but still one thing needed to be done. His hands grabbed the satyr's ass cheeks, his fingertips massaging the coccyx and the power still dormant in the protruding bone.

Wade let out a moan that turned into a bleat as a fuzzy deer like tail turned up from under Song's ministrations, initiating a blazing wave of fur to emerge from his ass cheeks, his hips, his thighs and even his balls. Wade's lower extremities were dominated by the satyr fur, leading right up to his prominent, towering cock.

"Yeah..." Song let out a short, broken breath. "Oh, f-fuck..." his pointed teeth sunk into his lower lip as his cock throbbed in the depths of Wade's asshole and sprayed a warm torrent of yellowish semen inside of him. Wade howled in bliss at that and unleashed a geyser of satyr sperm all over Song's bare stomach, the cream flowing down to saturate the fur on the monkey king's legs. Wade leaned in to suck and nibble on Song's neck, practically purring as his ass milked the shaft deep inside him.

The boys orgasmed, their limbs wrapped around each other's bodies, until the powerful sensation subsided and was replaced with a glorious afterglow. Song panted heavily, before his dick slid out of Wade's ass, a small waterfall of dense cum getting splattered all over the bedsheets. Wade murmured softly as he felt that wonderful, full cock leave his ass.

"Come... Come here, Frost," Song said, climbing down the bed and walking in front of the full body mirror that standing in a corner of the skater's room. Wade dutifully climbed off the bed and onto unsteady hooves, experimenting a bit on his balance before he moved over. He had to blink a few times, his eyes picking up on two sets of images. One was close to what he had woken up to every day, but with an insanely long goatee and a much longer cock... but the other was something out of an ancient greek painting. His fur, his ram-like horns, his pointed ears. He was otherworldly. Song, who after the sexual high had subsided was feeling much more like his older self, put on a crooked grin.

"Do you... Like it, Frost?" he asked, a bit bashfully. "I didn't know this was going to happen, it just... Happened."

"If you like it, then I like it... " Wade murmured, "Thank you for giving me these gifts..." he murmured. Song had never seen Wade so doting, but perhaps that was the result of such a thorough fucking. The monkey boy tilted his head a bit, a smile on his lips.

"You took it pretty well, huh? Guess this is what you were destined to be, after all..." Song's tail swished through the air and once again playfully plunged into Wade's welcoming ass, as the monkey king raised on his toe tips to lick the satyr's sensitive neck. "My faithful subject and my lusty slut..."

"I'll always be your slut, my king." Wade moaned, leaning down to give the monkey boy easier access. It was an interesting pair to have such a short dominator, but it was clear Wade wouldn't have had it any other way.

---

A deep and unearthly rumble filled the narrow confines of the cave. Ancient machinations continued on, working towards nefarious cross purposes. Little by little, stones in the ceiling were shifting and allowing the light of day to creep down into the ancient structure. Dust fell down as it was disturbed, scattering across crossing beams towards the larger space below. Countless grains landed on a great stone wheel, lurching ever so slowly in the opposite direction, fighting the widening vulnerability above.

While the sunlight piercing in tried to reach the depths of the forgotten cave, it paled in comparison to the warm amber glow the odd natural veins running through the rock walls produced. If one were to let their eyes adjust, they could make out the supernatural fusion of the natural formations and the vast intricacies of what had been built in place.

The great stone wheel at the base of the cave was turning centimeter by centimeter, tongues and grooves interlocked with a dozen dozen smaller wheels that disappeared under beams, moss, and stone outcroppings. The main wheel was a rusty red stone covered with carvings depicting mythological beings from the world over.

With the mechanisms fighting each other, the cave jostled even more as an interior shook from its dormancy and slid open. More dust fell in a curtain, but that didn't bother the figure moving into the room. Fiery orange hair fell in curves across bare shoulders, interrupted only by glistening black horns that arched up and back from the top of the man's head. While most of his face and abdomen were a pale pink, the flesh quickly graduated into an ashen black criss crossed with magma red lines, covering his arms, legs, forehead, ears and the reptilian tail swaying behind him. Even his claws and the short nub of hair highlighting the fair point of his chin were orange like his hair.

The salamander lifted his clawed hand, pointing to the torches around the room. The materials inside smoldered for a split second before igniting, bringing more light to the dark cave. The man moved forward, looking up at the sunlight trying to get into the sacred space. His lips curled into mild disdain and his fingers pulled into fists.

"Why did you have to go get yourself killed, sensei? It isn't fair!" The salamander shouted out, his voice sinfully smooth and dangerous at the same time. The young man closed his eyes and lowered his head, letting out a soft sigh. In that silence, there was an echo of distant laughter.

"I doubt that was my purpose, if it was it would have made for a terrible prank." The airy voice was unmistakable. Perched on one of the criss crossing beams was a ghost of the last Wukong. He was beyond lithe, he was thin, but the transparent image was unmistakable. The fur that framed his face and made up his hair had silvered, his red robes were well worn but pristine, and his tail swayed side to side. The salamander looked up, his jaw dropping.

"But sensei-" The fire spirit was interrupted.

"Malik, I am not your teacher anymore. You have learned all you need to know to face the coming challenges with both wisdom and wit. My grandson will succeed in his challenge, our way of life will continue... and even if it doesn't, you could make a fortune writing about the life that was." Bohai smiled warmly. Malik lowered his head again.

"Will I see you again?" Malik asked softly. Bohai chuckled again, rising up onto his feet, standing tall on the beam.

"In one form or another..." he said with a shrewd mischievousness to his voice before his ghostly form faded away. Malik raised his head once more, looking at the gap in the ceiling. Perhaps there was still something he could do...