Old man Jino looks up at the sky and decides, not for the first time, that today is the day he makes it. He gathers a small sack of food for the trip, and slides open his door. The air is cool, and a light breeze carries the scent of the herbs growing wild around his home. He takes a step outside, then doubles back to grab a large ornate box from his kitchen. He strides confidently out into the forest, and up the slope. He soon passes Lyle Woodcutter, who stops his work and walks the other way towards the town. Jino picks up the pace, scaling the wooded slope faster than a man one fifth his age, and within the hour he has reached his chosen spot. It isn't the tallest peak on the row of hills overlooking the town, but it is the one with the clearest view of the sky. His apprentice used to call it 'Jino's Cap', until the old man grew his hair back. He sets those thoughts aside, and instead pulls out the box, opening it to reveal a tea set.
It is his most prized possession, from his own Master decades and decades ago. The cups are fine porcelain, webbed with cracks that have been repaired many times. The teapot is silver, to purify the tea and draw out excess heat. And finally, the tray it all rests on is a hideous, gaudy, ugly flat disc of gold. Back in the old day, it might have been worth something. People used to think gold could carry a current of magic, or spirit. But nowadays, nobody bothers. A day spent focusing on the spirit is a day not spent gathering food or wood or fixing something. The townsfolk think he is a loon, but he provides herbs and entertains children so they tolerate him.
Banishing idle thoughts, he continues preparing. From his bag, he brings out dry biscuits and herbs. He lays the biscuits on either end of the golden tray, as though setting it for himself and a guest. Likewise he sets out two empty cups. He drops the herbs into the bone dry teapot in the center of the tray.
"Now, for the difficult part," he murmers, and extends his hands to the sky. He moves his wrinkled hands as though kneading dough, trailblazing a Path to water.
---
"The old man is at it again," says Lyle as he enters the bar.
Sliver Smith looks up from his untouched pitcher of beer. He glances out the door at the suddenly stormy sky. "You could have warned me sooner," he huffs, but thanks the man and rushes out. Lyle takes his seat and his beer with a self satisfied smirk.
Glad to be sober, Sliver hurries in the direction of the gathering clouds. A mile out, he can feel the gathering energy. It thickens the air, slowing his breathing and his pace. His training with the old man isn't for nothing, though. In this environment, his Path becomes clear. He hears it in his own heartbeat, the sound of metal coming into focus as he brings his footsteps into the rhythm. Every time his feet strike the ground, he folds the energy into his muscles just a little more, lengthens his stride another fingers-width. He hasn't felt his Path this clearly before, and is uncertain whether he's better at it, or if the old man is about to actually breach the Veil. He doesn't know what he wants the answer to be. The old man is his benefactor, almost like his father. He can't dwell on such things without falling off the Path, so he simply runs.
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---
Jino's Path takes the form of a snake of cloud spiralling from the sky above all the way to his hands. He caresses it and directs it to his teapot. With some effort, he wrings water from it to steadily fill the pot. There is a clanging echoing up the hillside, and he knows his apprentice will arrive shortly. He smiles. The timing is immaculate. With the teapot full, he holds the head of the snake to his forehead. His awareness traces down the Path, all the way to its tail. The Veil is so close, that silent barrier of crackling energy on the edge of the sky. The snake's tail lifts up and thrusts into that barrier. It instantly comes to life, and lashes out.
The rage of the Veil arcs down the Path, exploding from the head of the snake.
---
Sliver abruptly falls from the Path. He loses his footing and cartwheels up the crest of the hill, eventually flopping down on flat ground. He catches his breath and sits up, his eyes clamped shut.
"Master, are you there?"
"Of course. Follow my voice, the tea is almost ready." The old man's voice seems to come from a world away.
The young man shuffles across the grass until he feels heat near his outstretched hands. The tea, he thinks.
"What happened?"
"Tea's ready." He hears the rising pitch of hot tea pouring into the cup in front of him. He waits for the old man to pour for the other cup, then prods around blindly to find the cup. It's incredibly hot. But the moment doesn't allow him to hesitate. He lifts it up.
"It's too hot. Can you cool it for me?" His hand trembles.
"You know I'd never refuse you anything, lad. But I'm on my way out. I hope you miss me dearly and find happiness on your Path." The voice trails off, rising. The apprentice tips his head back to try and follow it.
"Master? Did you make it?" He asks, but he gets no response. "Jino!"
He stands up abruptly, spilling the tea. Some splashes onto his hand and he screams in anger and pain. He falls to his knees, and slams his fists into the ground. "JINO! Where are you!?" He swings his fists into the ground wildly.
----
Sliver had always had bad eyesight. Something had lodged in his eye when he was a baby and it never sorted itself out. His parents basically gave up on him, and left him with the old loon while they dealt with the more promising children. For his part, Jino was overjoyed to have someone to babble at every day.
"Back in my day, every young'n was chasing their own Path, trying to bust through to the Heavens." He lectured.
"What's the point of that?" asked the boy.
"Well... It's the Heavens, isn't it? Who wouldn't want to see what's up there?" He bubbled his lips in thought.
"I think once you know your Path you can't help but want to walk it. Nobody finds their Path anymore."
"Do I have a path?" asked Sliver.
Jino placed a hand on his shoulder. "Everyone and everything has a Path."
"I probably couldn't find mine. I can't find anything."
"You mean with your eyes? If you can't see, use your ears. If you can't hear, feel it out. You can always find your Path."
----
Sliver steadies himself, and brings his fists into rhythm. His Path is a knocking, and he waits for a response. The tray responds, revealing its location. He brings one hand down on it, and it dents satisfyingly. It feels crackly to the touch. He keeps knocking, finding the rest of the tea set and biscuits, but no old man. He looks for hours, taking breaks only to pack up the mess. But he can't find Jino. Eventually, his vision returns to a smear, and he rests his hands. The old man is really gone. And when he looks at the sky, he can barely see the bruise-colored tear in the Veil marking his departure.
