Ruan opened his eyes slowly, allowing the soft light seeping through the gray mist to touch his face like a hand gently waking someone from a long sleep.
The cold of the valley no longer pierced his skin the way it had before.
Now it felt like a breeze passing through the courtyard of a home he once knew—quiet, unthreatening.
He moved his fingers and felt an energy flowing within him—not the wild, foreign force that had frightened him before, but a new kind of energy, neatly arranged, moving as though it knew him better than he knew himself.
He touched his chest carefully. Beneath the skin, he felt a pulse that was not entirely his.
It aligned with his own heartbeat, forming a rhythm that was different yet harmonious—like two ancient instruments warmed before a hearth, now beginning to play in sync.
"I feel two rivers flowing inside me," Ruan murmured softly, as if speaking to the still mist.
"And they walk beside each other without ever colliding. Is this part of the union you spoke of?"
The answer came from within his chest—from the voice that had accompanied him since he first saw that gray heart.
It was gentle, patient, like someone who had waited a long time to speak calmly.
"You feel two rivers because there are two rhythms living inside you now. One is yours. One is mine.
They will not fight. They are only trying to understand each other."
Ruan gave a faint smile.
It was not the smile of someone who had narrowly escaped death, but the smile of someone who had found a missing piece of himself in a place he never expected.
"My body feels more alive," he whispered.
"And yet I was just standing at the edge of darkness."
"Darkness did not kill you," Ashar replied, his voice sounding closer than before.
"It merely brought you to the place that has always waited to show itself to you."
Ruan slowly pushed himself up to sit.
There was no dizziness—no pain.
As if every wound he had suffered had become nothing more than a memory etched faintly in his mind.
"You said there is something I must learn," Ruan said, steadying his breath as he focused on the voice.
"What is it?"
"I want you," Ashar said gently, "to step outside your body."
Ruan let out a soft laugh—not of refusal or disbelief, but the laugh of someone hearing something so unimaginable he could only accept it.
"If anyone else heard that, they would think I've lost my sanity."
"Let others live within their fear," Ashar replied.
"You do not walk the path they've chosen."
Ruan closed his eyes, letting the valley's breeze touch him.
"Why must I leave my body?"
Ashar gave a short silence that felt like a pause meant to ensure Ruan was ready.
Then his voice flowed like a river carrying old stories.
"There are three reasons."
Ruan tilted his head slightly toward the voice, even though Ashar had no physical form.
"I'm listening."
"The first," Ashar said,
"is because your body cannot explain what has changed in you.
The body can only carry you to its limits.
If you want to see what you have become, you must see it from beyond those limits."
Ruan brushed his warm chest.
"Like seeing my own shadow from a different place."
"Like seeing your newly born soul," Ashar answered.
"I understand," Ruan murmured. "And the second reason?"
"To understand death," Ashar said,
"you cannot remain inside the flesh that covers you.
You will hear nothing of the spirit world if you remain purely human.
The body sees what is visible.
The soul sees what is hidden."
Ruan was silent for a moment before answering,
"That makes sense."
"And the third reason," Ashar continued,
"is that only outside your body can you hear the world as I hear it.
The world is not only life and death.
There are whispers between them, and you will not hear those whispers if you stay on only one side."
Ruan drew a long breath, letting the words seep deep within him.
"So I must step out… to listen."
"To listen, to feel, to understand, and to accompany," Ashar said.
"That is the foundation of the path you now walk."
Ruan closed his eyes more deeply, calming his thoughts.
"How do I begin?"
"Sit cross-legged," Ashar instructed,
"and listen to the slowest heartbeat.
That is the doorway."
Ruan obeyed.
The pulse inside his chest echoed like footsteps in a long corridor.
The fast beat was his.
The slow beat belonged to the Ancient Heart.
"I feel it," he whispered.
"This slow beat… it feels like a wave lifting me gently."
"Do not resist," Ashar murmured.
"Your body is your home.
You are not leaving it—you're only opening a window."
Ruan felt his body lighten.
His back no longer felt pressed against the ground.
Gradually, his physical form dimmed from his awareness, while his sense of self became clearer, sharper.
"I'm beginning to see myself," he said, eyes still closed.
"What do you feel?" Ashar asked.
"Strange," Ruan said.
"But not frightening.
It feels like meeting someone I once avoided… yet now face with an open heart."
"That is the first step of an Eresh," Ashar whispered.
When Ruan opened his eyes as a soul, the valley transformed.
The mist moved like water currents.
The corpses no longer appeared as lifeless objects.
Every corner of the valley emitted faint shadows—memories walking slowly toward a place they could never reach.
"This mist is alive," Ruan said, listening to its low hum.
"I can hear its breath."
"The mist is the valley's breath," Ashar explained.
"You hear it now because you are no longer looking with human eyes."
As Ruan walked as a soul, he saw strands of light flowing like small rivers through the air.
"These threads… what are they?" he asked.
"They are traces of souls," Ashar replied.
"This place is filled with stories left unfinished."
Ruan continued until he saw a figure—not a body, not a corpse, but the spirit of a young disciple who appeared lost and terrified.
Ruan approached slowly.
"I see you," he said gently.
The spirit flinched, staring at him as if witnessing light for the first time after a long darkness.
"You… can hear me?"
"Yes," Ruan answered, "I can hear you."
The spirit moved closer, its voice trembling.
"I… don't remember my face.
I only remember the cold."
"It's alright," Ruan said softly.
"You can remember slowly. I'm here."
The spirit shivered.
"I saw someone… before everything went dark.
Someone laughed at me… then I fell."
"Do you want to show me?" Ruan asked.
"Will you believe me?"
The spirit's voice was barely a breath.
"I won't reject anything you wish to show," Ruan replied.
The spirit lifted its hand, and a flash of memory revealed itself—
a glinting dagger, panic, sudden silence.
"I don't know what happened to me," the spirit whispered.
"I'm scared…"
"You're not alone," Ruan said.
"I will find out the truth of your death."
The spirit gazed at him with trembling gratitude.
"Thank you…"
Ashar spoke again.
"And now you know the deepest reason."
"Yes," Ruan said,
"If I remained in my body, I would never have seen this."
Then his physical body called his soul back.
Ruan followed the fast heartbeat and eased back into himself, like someone returning to a home that always waited.
"I feel more whole," he said as he opened his eyes.
"You accepted the part of yourself you once ignored," Ashar replied.
Ruan rose slowly and looked at the valley.
He no longer saw it as a grave, but as an endless place of learning.
"What is the next step?" Ruan asked.
"The next step," Ashar answered,
"is to look at me."
"To look at you?" Ruan repeated.
"Yes," Ashar said.
"Because now you can see what humans cannot."
Ruan smiled faintly.
"I'm ready."