Engulfed in his mother’s embrace, the tremors from such an earth-shattering nightmare and his heart’s unrest from Nyima’s admonishments felt an entire lifetime away. He thought for the briefest second that the problems therein could belong to another soul. One who could not smell the sandalwood incense seeping into his mother’s robes, or feel the smoothness of her wood-beaded bracelet. 

Sonam shivered as he thought of the false elder whose image he could recall vividly, standing waist-deep within the frigid waters of the Far Shore. He pressed his head insistently against his mother’s chest, counting the lapping beat of her heart beside her breaths. For a mere instance, it nearly erased the rolling sound of the waves and the false elder’s labored breathing as he held Sonam over the foaming tides.

Then, his mother’s claws brushed over the tender skin of his wrist and Sonam’s heart lurched painfully in his chest. Ghostly impressions of the false elder’s grasp around his wrist reminded him of a manacle tethering the two together. He hadn’t the strength to free himself and paralyzed by fear, could do nothing more than dangle in his clutches. Disgust burned in his chest and pushed up against the back of his ears with harsh, stinging tears threatening to spill forth. 

Sadness coated the back of his tongue with a bitterness tanging each swallow he took, until his face felt uncomfortably hot and terribly thin. Tepid warmth slowly enveloped his cheek and he realized only after his head was tipped up that it’d been his mother’s hand holding him. Her gentle gaze settled overhead like the stars twinkling in that distant land but their comfort was not close at hand as her’s. 

Sonam held his breath when her eyes shuttered as she leant down to nuzzle his forehead and press a kiss against the damp locks plastered against his skin. When he breathed in, a treacherous quiver and a pang of guilt funneled deep within his chest to nestle deep within his ribs. Ire slipped past his lips with a sigh. His mother hooking her chin against the top of his head which allowed him to tuck his face against the opening of her robes. 

Loosely, his hand twisted in her necklace and rubbed the etched carvings in the beads. They felt smoother than when he’d last felt them.  He could imagine her seated by his bedside as still as a statue at first glance. Yet, if one looked closely, they might have noticed the way her fingertips would glide over the beads carvings while her lips moved soundlessly with prayers to Lhenma. Perhaps her eyes fluttered now and then, opening to search for any sign within her son’s still body. 

How disappointed must she have been that I had taken so long to awaken, Sonam thought with a sniffle and tried to will his heavy arms to return her embrace. His anger toward the false elder had yet to abate but he could recall the fierce mourning behind the man’s apparent madness. When he spoke of Sonam’s mother — for who could she have been but his and his siblings’ when that man clearly did not honor her nor their family in action nor word — there was an underlying of wanting.  

It reminded him of the weeping woman who bore Nyima’s eyes, and the thought of her sprang tears anew.  The urge to kneel with his head pressed to the ground before Nyima arose but he hadn’t the beginning nor end of how to explain himself to her. His weak, trembling hold on his mother’s robes eased as he withdrew from her embrace enough to look up at her eyes. 

The sharp, winged turn of them had softened with understanding as she set him back onto his bedding without ceremony.  Without the warmth of her body, a biting cold sept through the thin robes hanging from Sonam’s frame and he shivered as he reached down to pull them tauter around his shoulders. A light press to his shoulder from his mother’s knuckles guided him into laying down once more, and he sighed with relief as she tucked the thick blanket around his shoulders. 

Once the downy lining had been sealed beneath his chin, her hand settled upon his chest and patted slowly with a rhythm he had no memory of. Paired with the falling rain, Sonam’s eyelids began to feel heavy and the intervals between his blinking lengthened. Soon, his mother’s humming joined the patting beat and though the two did not match, Sonam realized as his breathing evened out that his mother’s patting matched the beating of his heart. 

His thoughts threatened to sweep away into unconsciousness when the door to the infirmary rattled open noisily. The steady beat of his mother’s hand faltered and Sonam’s brow pinched with upset. When the weight of his mother’s hand retreated, he cracked open his eyes and searched for where she’d gone. His eyes shot open at the sight of a woman dressed in jade green and white garments sewn with the relief of reeds swaying with each step she took as though the silk itself held wind within its fabric.

He knew from the snapping motion of her heels against the wood and the deep, earthy brown of her eyes that trouble was abound but it did little to keep him from delighting at her presence. She knelt down once she’d reached his bedside, seeming as though her knees had given out the moment she was close enough to him. Her eyes searched the length of him, stretching from head to toe, without once regarding his mother who moved over slightly to allow the woman to take her place. 

Impatiently, she fished beneath the blanket and what relief Sonam felt evaporated as he shied his arm away from her approaching touch. She went rigid for a split second as her eyes met his and the single-minded, hardened look melted into one he couldn’t quite understand. When she turned her face away to look at his mother, they said not a word to one another but Sonam was sure something had been communicated. For in the next instance, her hand receded from beneath the blanket and she busied herself with tucking it back into place with gentle strokes smoothing out the creases from her undoing.

“Aunt…” Sonam whispered in a vain attempt to offer his greetings despite his current state. The tenderness of her care moved his heart but the feeling was short-lived when she raised her head, anger etched in the rings around her irises. 

“Foolish, reckless boy,” she hissed with an enunciation behind each word that felt like knives being gouged into Sonam’s ears. “What were you thinking, ah?”

He winced, shutting one eye and tilting his head away slightly as if he could avoid her tirade. Yet, there was no use. His Aunt Tsolha was second to none with verbal tongue-lashings and he felt more than deserving of her ire after worrying her so.

“Mara dispersion is a delicate ritual where you are at your most vulnerable, not only to the world but the demon you fed,” Tsolha said waspishly, though there was an undercurrent of a tremble beneath her voice that Sonam was not sure if he’d ever heard before. “And you were going to give it all of you.”

Sonam swallowed thickly and turned his head to sink his cheek against the pillow, staring up at her anew as he tried to puzzle out the meaning behind her labored breathing. Seemingly startled by his full attentions, his aunt averted her gaze as she drew in a deep breath. The room was filled with the sound of her labored breathing, and Sonam tipped his head slightly to try and catch a glimpse of her face from beneath the shadow cast from her bangs.

A soft pat to his thigh stopped him from arching his back any further, and he glanced down at his mother who shook her head once then tapped a finger against her lips. 

That’s right, I should apologize first… 

“Aunt,” Sonam began, not expecting the dull throb of hurt when she didn’t meet his eyes or attempt to recognize him. Mournfully, he tipped his chin down with the best bow he could have given her and shut his eyes tightly though her disheartened visage was seared into the back of his eyelids. “I’m sorry…” 

Seconds flitted past, and Sonam was not sure how long he laid there awaiting his aunt’s admonishments but he hadn’t expected a heavy exhale drained of all vigor. 

“If only that would have been enough…” Tsolha started in a deep, gravelly tone. Her voice, clipped though it was, seemed miles away from where Sonam laid. “If only a demon would feel sorry for taking my nephew.”

Sonam opened his eyes at the weight of something warm resting atop his chest and looked up at his aunt whose dark hair fell over him in a curtain as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Never again, Sonam,” she whispered against his skin. “Never worry us like that again.” 

When she withdrew, her hand cupped his cheek as her thumb swept gently beneath his left eye. “Do you understand?”

Sonam sniffed, nodding wearily as he leaned into her hand. “Yes ma’am…”

Tsolha searched his eyes, and withdrew once she seemed to find what she’d been looking for. “I need to check your dantian and assess your meridians to ensure the mara is gone, will that be alright?” 

Warily, Sonam flexed his fingers and considered saying no but he knew it would set his aunt and mother’s hearts at ease. The idea that mara had flooded his body and nearly pushed him into the Far Shore was startling as well. 

Nyima said that I was nearly turned… 

His heartbeat quickened at the thought as he recalled stories of the fate befalling those who fell to the intoxication of mara. The memory of that false elder arose at the back of his mind and a flash of panic spurred him into a struggle against the blankets. He trashed, and his aunt reared back out of surprise. Yet, Sonam paid her little mind as he resisted the weight of the blankets like the waves pressing down on him from all sides. 

His mother reached out to him just as he’d managed to raise his shoulders, breezing past his aunt to kneel by his side and undo the blankets from his body. Once he was shivering in the open air, he felt himself being lifted up and half-propped with something warm and soft at his back. It didn’t take long for him to know that it was his mother holding him up, her hand combing through his hair and her lips moving with words he could not hear over his panting breaths.

“Calm yourself, Sonam,” he heard his aunt say over the roar of blood pounding against his eardrums. “You are safe now. We only need to ensure the mara has been dispersed.”

He knew she was right, and took deep gulps of air to steady himself as she reached for his wrist cautiously. Her first two fingers wrapped around him in a loose hold and Sonam flexed his fingers cautiously, testing the strength of his grip as he managed to shift himself in her grasp. Relief flooded through him and he sagged against his mother, resting his head on her stomach as he waited for his aunt to release him. 

When at last she did, the look in her eyes was one he couldn’t quite place. She shared another quiet conversation with mere glances toward his mother before regarding him again.

“Sonam, until you are sufficiently healed, you’re forbidden from cultivating.”

The relief Sonam felt evaporated in an instance, replaced by the hot vapors of indignation as he nearly bolted upright with a startled, “What?!” 

A sudden dizziness causing him to waver and his mother’s arm tucked around his chest was the only thing to keep him from falling entirely. The degree of gratitude he felt was bellied by panic as he turned his head back and forth.

“Aunt, Mother, please! I can’t sit and do nothing. Brother Tsering—” 

“Sonam…” Tsolha interjected crisply, and the look in her eyes brokered no argument whilst sealing his mouth shut. She whipped her finger at him, glaring over the length of it. “You are fortunate that I do not seal your meridians this very second. Your soul has been parted for nearly five moons. After a Calling, your soul must acclimate to its vessel or it will repel. Heavens, Dalha, the tea leaves for that child alone—” 

“Sister, enough.” Dalha — Sonam’s mother — quietly reproached.  His aunt fell silent and lowered her eyes under his mother’s gaze. When his mother followed suit, Sonam looked up to her in desperation but found no reprieve. 

Instead, his mother stroked her fingertips along his cheek, wary of her claws against his skin.

“My son. Do not allow what you’ve heard to burden your spirit. There is no short path to strength, and certainly not one you should walk alone. You needn’t fear falling behind your brother, for you will never be alone even though your paths take you in separate directions. Sonam, you, Tsering, and Pema are the blood of my blood. Pieces of my heart given life outside my chest, none lesser and none greater. Though I wish for your dreams to be achieved, know that after five moons without you, my only wish is that you will remain in this realm with us.” 

The lapse into silence allowed the sound of the falling rain thudding rhythmically against the rooftop, and plink-plopping against the wind chimes outside the window to fill the silence. Sonam could hear his breathing, and the weight of his despair set upon his chest like a stone since he’d awakened began to shift.  He had always heard his mother speak fondly of his siblings and himself but not once did he take it to heart as deeply as he did now. 

In the past, he’d believed she would speak of him kindly simply because she was his mother. Her love for him was without question and without equal, but also without apparent value. 

How foolish could he have been?

Pressing his arm down beside him to lift himself up with a straining huff, Sonam clutched his empty hand to his chest after Tsolha released him to return his arm to his body. He couldn’t bear to look at either of them as he drew his legs beneath his thighs and bowed his head. 

“I’ll do as you say, Aunt. Mother. This nephew…” He swallowed hard, forcing back the tears climbing up to his eyes. “This son begs forgiveness and asks to be left alone to reflect.”

He heard one of them take a breath - likely his aunt, to refuse his request - but she said nothing more. Sonam stayed still and quiet, waiting until the soft shifting of his mother’s robes and the quieter flap of his aunt’s neared the doorway. Only once it rattled on its hinges, and snapped shut against the frame did he let the tears begin to fall.

He thought to the lonely man on that shore. The one who lamented all the things he had lost, and wept the tears he seemed unable to cry.