Fenghuang Temple
An ebon horse picked its way along a narrow path worn into the hills, as it had done for a day and a half. Tall and proud, the creature's eyes glinted with intelligence and dark fire, and its ivory tack had worn smooth with seeming centuries of use. Mangy gravehounds nipped at the horse's fetlocks, barking out the dying thoughts of the last brain their tongues had tasted, until a glance from the horse's rider sent them running in terror. That rider, the Prince Resplendent in the Ruin of Ages, looked scornfully at the hounds as they ran; they never should have come so close, but he came to the temple as a supplicant, begging for help, and begging demanded humility. There was only the Prince himself and his mount, Dance of Ruin, and the road to Fenghuang Temple.
Minutes later, Dance of Ruin topped the last rise and the temple stood revealed. It was a beautiful sight, had the Prince Resplendent eyes for beauty. The main hall, capped with jade tiling and carvings of twin birds, stood with doors open to receive visitors. Flanking it on either side were twin corridors, each leading to a hall for one of the Abbot's two sangha. A fiery red lacquer coated the outside walls and supporting pillars, and covering the whole outside were small reliefs of celestial lions and the fire spirits of Heaven. A natural sulphur-spring bubbled up from the earth in front of the temple, feeding the plants, and the foul smell was the one thing in range of his senses the Prince Resplendent could tolerate; everything else was redolent of life, and it prickled down the Prince Resplendant's spine.
The Prince Resplendent prodded his horse forward with ebon spurs; the Abbot of Hunger and Dust would be waiting to hear his petition.
The Bodhisattva of the Void[edit]
Seventy-four steps lead down a secret door in the rear hall of Fenghuang Temple to the stone-walled dungeon below. The Abbot of Hunger and Dust walked them silently, his hands held together before him in a gesture of death. The Prince Resplendent in the Ruin of Ages was not so reverent; his ancient soulsteel armor creaked as he walked, and every step left a rusty stain behind. “So you see? If we work together, with your monks forming the Vanguard, we cannot lose.”
The Abbot shook his bald head, but did not alter his pace. “Of all the White-Corpse Mendicants, there are none who have yet abandoned the world enough to walk within it.”
The Prince Resplendent fumed silently.
The pair reached the dungeon. From what rumors he had heard in the Underworld, the Prince Resplendent expected every weapon in the torturer’s arsenal to present itself for inspection. He thought to find wooden mu jia boards piled high, jiá gùn and zánzhǐ upon a table and razor-sharp blades for Língchí hung from a rack. But there were none of these things. The Abbot had not added a single piece to the Manse’s basic, empty basement design. Not even victims. When the Prince Resplendent commented on this, the Abbot said “The true torture is ignorance, and that can be found anywhere.”
Disgusted, the Prince Resplendent turned away from the Abbot, towards the dungeon’s one distinguishing feature: a hole in the earth, its edge bricked with red jade. Boiling up from inside was flame, the purest heat the visiting deathknight had ever known. Were he a poetic man, he would have called it the heat of a mother’s love, the heat of two lovers in embrace, the heat of the Unconquered Sun as he smiled upon children picking flowers. But the Prince Resplendent was not a poetic man, and sweat trickled from his skin with the intemperance of razor blades as he approached the edge of the pit.
Down below, he saw a wonder: a great bird, its every feather wreathed in flame. Her great wings, which would have spanned the breadth of a house had they room to spread fully, tried to beat a tempo against the air. The effort was futile, as great soulsteel manacles chained her razor talons to the floor. The Prince Resplendent thought to shield his eyes, but the flame was smokeless and, though bright, the light was never blinding. Instead, he almost wept. "Is this is a garda bird?"
“She is a bodhisattva of the Void,” the Abbot intoned behind him.
With a measured gaze, the Prince Resplendent met the elemental’s eyes; they were almost human, and had blackened over with despair so bleak it belonged in the Labyrinth. But at the root of that despair was the most profound love the Prince Resplendent had ever seen. To help him transcend hunger, she was willing to consume him, and herself, utterly.
The deathknight turned to his host. “You did not bring me here to give me her as a servant, did you?”
Again, the Abbot shook his head. “Limitless compassion, applied on too small a scale, is no better than indifference.”
“Scale…” The Prince Resplendent considered. “Yes, I can see it in her eyes; she’d burn herself out killing a single man as soon as she had a chance. You won’t turn her free until hundreds bring themselves here to fall victim to her flames.”
The Abbot smiled. “These are expeditious means.”
“But I’ve been thinking on too large a scale, haven’t I? Why use a torch when a spark will suffice?” The Prince Resplendent walked back up the stairs to Fenghuang Temple, barely realizing the wisdom he had learned.
