Bckness.

  That’s all there is. And a dim awareness that suggests I exist, somewhere within the void, but barely so. I can’t feel my limbs—which I’m pretty sure should be a discomforting indicator of a botched reincarnation.

  Great! Just great! This is the quality control you get when you skip the reincarnation tutorial.

  At least I’m not alone with my thoughts about how stupid this decision was. Wait– I am alone, and my thoughts are loud. Really loud. I try to stretch, to flex any muscle or appendage, but it’s like wanting to wave a hand you no longer own. Movement is out of the question.

  Except... hold on. There’s the slightest wobble. Victory! These existential quivers suggest I’m sentiently lodged in something. With concentrated effort, I test the boundaries. Roll left, roll right.

  Holy Jade! I’m... a rock. I reincarnated as a fucking rock.

  The absurdity hits like a celestial comet — the most feared, revered, and mysteriously weird Eternal Divine Emperor reduced to a geological nuisance. Years of cultivating unparalleled power, and I’m nestled snugly on the ground. You can't make this stuff up!

  “Alright, Emperor Shin... let’s try not to lose it.” I mumble to myself—or at least to the inner voice of rock-Self.

  Rolling reveals the oddity of the predicament. As ckluster as it might be without suitable appendages, this newfound skill suggests I possess some degree of life force. Bleak as that may be, it’s still a ticket to good old cultivation. Technically, I could become the Great Divine Rocky Emperor, a title that sings with irony. Might even get my own revered sect—the Boulder Buddies.

  Except... drinking sake as a rock? Zero stars, would not recommend. There’s no mouth to drink, nowhere to pour—and that’s not to mention the absence of other important manly appendages. Face-spping folks with geological grimness? Not happening.

  Reluctantly, I face reality: a rock-born existence abstains from all my hedonistic pursuits. Let’s table becoming the Grand Supreme Overlord of Inanimate Objects while I ponder an exit strategy.

  Time for pn B: rock-icide. Simple enough in theory, but I have no foes. No celestial beings to obliterate me for fun. Can’t even trip and break myself into the glorious afterlife. Mentally scratching my metaphysical surface, I hatch an idea.

  I roll toward what I assume is an incline. Surely, if I roll up to a peak and careen off with all the force I can muster, I’ll shatter. Finally, a pn! Maury Povich sends me reincarnation options, and I gamble for Round Two!

  Time. Time becomes a foreign concept as decades wash over my sandy pebble life like rainy seasons. Sunshine and darkness, wind and water shape my polished form, but I never stop rolling. Each revolution closer, step-by-perpetual-step. And eventually, conquest! I am THE ROCK at the mountain’s highest tip.

  I teeter, I roll... Plummeting Earthward, gathering velocity, heaven and earth blur... and—crash.

  Silence, sweet merciful silence.

  Then sensation.

  Bckness fades to greenness. Actually, a lot of greenness. Because I'm a goddamn tree.

  I've spent the st few hours—or is it days?—trying to accept my new reality as Emperor Tree Shin, Supreme Overlord of This Patch of Dirt. The cosmic joke's on me, because whoever handles reincarnation clearly skipped the "sentient beings" category and went straight for "things that photosynthesize."

  "Alright," I think to myself, because talking out loud isn't exactly an option when you ck a mouth. "Let's assess the situation."

  Fact one: I'm a tree.Fact two: Trees can't move.Fact three: I need to die to reincarnate again.Fact four: This is way harder than it sounded in the brochure.

  I try wiggling what I assume are my branches. Nothing. I concentrate on feeling my roots. Still nothing. It's like being paralyzed, except instead of a hospital bed, I'm stuck in soil that probably contains worm poop.

  "Hello?" I mentally shout, hoping some woodnd creature might respond. "Any lumberjacks in the area? I've got premium wood right here! Free for the taking!"

  Nothing but the occasional bird chirping. Great. They're probably crapping on my leaves as we speak. From Divine Emperor to bird toilet in one lifetime. What an upgrade.

  I attempt to summon my cultivation powers, reaching for that familiar energy that once let me bitch-sp gods into next Tuesday.

  Nothing happens.

  "Come on," I urge myself. "You once made the Twelve Heavenly Gods cry like babies. Surely you can make one measly branch move!"

  More nothing.

  I consider my options for suicide-by-environment:1. Forest fire (unlikely without lightning or careless humans)2. Disease (too slow and I might just lose leaves)3. Woodpeckers (not fatal, just annoying)4. Lumberjacks (where are you, fnnel-wearing saviors?)

  I can already tell this is going to be a long reincarnation. Might as well take a nap.

  ---------

  I wake up. I think. Trees don't technically sleep, but consciousness seems to ebb and flow when you're photosynthesizing all day.

  "Has it been a day? A week?" I wonder.

  The sun rises and sets. Repeatedly. Seasonal changes begin to occur. Leaves sprout from me, then fall, then sprout again.

  Holy shit. It's been years.

  "This is ridiculous," I mentally grumble as another autumn sends my leaves spiraling to the ground. "I've gone from conquering realms to... leaf dropping. What a career trajectory."

  Out of sheer, mind-numbing boredom, I start counting. Days, birds, clouds, anything. I count the rings inside myself (now that's a weird form of introspection). Fifteen rings. Fifteen fucking years as a tree.

  Right. This calls for desperate measures. If I can't move, I might as well cultivate. But how? All my techniques require things like "meridians" and "dantians" and other biological components that trees decidedly ck.

  "Think, Shin, think. You're the smartest immortal who ever lived... besides those three guys you obliterated for ciming they were smarter."

  Trees absorb. That's their whole deal. They take in sunlight, water, nutrients. Perhaps I can work with that? I focus on the sensation of sunlight hitting my leaves, trying to feel the energy being absorbed.

  For months, I concentrate on this feeling. Nothing happens except I become hyper-aware of how fantastically boring photosynthesis is as a lifestyle choice.

  Then, one day, I feel it—a slight tingle as the sunlight hits a particur leaf. I focus harder, directing all my consciousness to that single point of sensation.

  "Yes! Come to papa!"

  The energy is microscopic, barely a fraction of what I once commanded, but it's something. I direct it downward, toward my roots, storing it there like I once stored power in my dantian.

  Progress! At this rate, I'll be able to move a twig in... another fifteen years. Fantastic.

  -----------

  Decades pass. I'm not joking. Actual decades. I've counted fifty-seven rings now. I'd cry if trees could produce tears instead of sap.

  But there's progress. The energy I've accumuted has grown substantially. I've developed a technique I proudly call "Photosynthesis Cultivation: The Art of Not Being a Useless Pnt." Catchy, right?

  I've learned to draw energy not just from sunlight but from the water and minerals in the soil. I can pull in ambient spiritual energy from the air—this world has plenty of it floating around. I store it all in my roots, which have grown thick with concentrated power.

  And today, finally, something amazing happens.

  I move a root. Just slightly, just an inch, but it moves under my conscious control.

  "VICTORY!" I mentally shout to the squirrels who've taken up residence in my branches. "BOW BEFORE YOUR MOBILE OVERLORD!"

  The squirrels, predictably, ignore me and continue storing nuts in my hollows. Ungrateful little rodents. I've provided rent-free housing for generations of their family, and this is the respect I get.

  But I don't care. I can move! Sort of!

  Over the next few years (yes, more years, because trees don't exactly breakdance overnight), I gain more control. I can shift my branches slightly. I can extend roots in specific directions. Progress is excruciatingly slow, but it's something.

  One day, I realize I've cultivated enough energy to actually strengthen my wooden body. I'm no longer just a tree—I'm a tree with the density and resilience of steel. Which is great news for surviving storms, but terrible news for my suicide pns.

  "Great job, Shin," I admonish myself. "You've made yourself even harder to kill. Genius move."

  But the increased strength comes with better control. I can now move my branches with enough precision to gently brush away the snow that accumutes in winter. I can shift my position ever so slightly toward the sun for maximum energy absorption.

  Most importantly, I realize I can actually uproot myself. Not quickly—we're talking millimeters per day—but enough that I can theoretically relocate given sufficient time and motivation.

  And I have both in abundance. It's not like I have a busy social calendar as a tree.

  "Right," I decide. "New pn: Find civilization, find someone who can kill me, get reincarnated as something with a digestive system."

  I begin the painstaking process of moving. It's like watching continental drift, except I'm the continent. I extend roots forward, then contract roots behind me, slowly pulling myself across the forest floor.

  I measure progress in centuries rather than miles. Depressing, but what choice do I have? Just as I'm getting the hang of this root-walking technique, I hear something in the distance.

  Voices. Human voices.

  After more than a century of solitude, the sound is so startling I almost drop all my leaves at once.

  I strain to listen. There are shouts, explosions, the unmistakable sounds of a cultivation battle. I mentally salivate at the thought. Combat! Drama! Entertainment that isn't watching moss grow on my north side!

  I abandon my tortoise-like migration and focus all my energy on extending a single root toward the sounds. It stretches through the soil faster than normal, my eagerness accelerating the process.

  The root reaches a clearing just in time to witness an epic battle between what appears to be two rival sects of cultivators. Spiritual energy crackles through the air. Swords fsh with magical light. Someone just turned into a giant phoenix.

  "Now THIS is quality programming!" I think gleefully, extending my root-sensor further to get a better view.

  Through my connection with the soil, I sense every footstep, every person who falls to the ground. And that's when I feel her—a female cultivator who's just been knocked down. She's bleeding profusely but already starting to heal herself with cultivation energy. Even through my limited root-perception, I can tell she's beautiful—the kind of jade-skinned, willow-waisted beauty that would have definitely made it into my harem back in my Emperor days.

  Her companions seem to be winning the battle, driving back the opposing sect with overwhelming force. The woman on the ground is trying to stand, to rejoin the fight despite her injuries.

  And suddenly, I have an idea so brilliant it would make even the Demon Emperor slow-cp in appreciation.

  With all the energy I've accumuted over my century-plus of tree life, I focus on the roots nearest to the fallen beauty. In one quick movement—the fastest I've ever managed as a tree—I shoot tendrils up from the ground around her, wrapping them securely around her limbs and torso.

  "What the—" she gasps, the first human voice I've heard clearly in over a century.

  "Sorry, gorgeous," I think, knowing she can't hear me. "Just business. Nothing personal."

  I lift her slightly off the ground, making sure her fellow cultivators can see. As expected, one of them notices immediately.

  "Senior Sister Liu!" a young male disciple shouts, his voice cracking with the pubescent distress that only comes with seeing your crush in mortal danger. "Something's got Senior Sister Liu!"

  I mentally roll my eyes. Of course her name would be Liu. Probably Liu Something-Something, where the Something-Something is an elegant pairing of characters meaning "Jade Blossom" or "Divine Elegance" or some equally pretentious bullshit. These cultivation world naming conventions are as predictable as the "young master gets offended, proceeds to threaten entire family lineage" routine.

  "Help! These... these things!" Senior Sister Liu struggles against my wooden embrace, her slender form twisting in ways that give me a full appreciation of her cultivator-toned physique. "Demonic flora! Attack!"

  The battle around us pauses as both sects turn their attention to the spectacle I'm creating. My woody tendrils continue to rise from the ground, encircling her limbs with increasing firmness. I make sure to snake one particurly thick root between her thighs, earning a startled gasp that sends tingles through my entire treely being.

  "UNHAND HER, DEMON PLANT!" bellows a barrel-chested cultivator with a beard so magnificent it probably has its own cultivation technique. Must be the token sect elder. There's always one—white beard, permanent scowl, and the disposition of someone perpetually constipated from eating nothing but "spirit herbs" for the past century.

  I ignore him completely, focusing instead on Senior Sister Liu. Now that I've got her secured in my grasp, something unexpected happens. My tree-body begins to tingle with an unfamiliar sensation, centered where my roots contact her skin. It's like drinking the world's strongest spirit wine after a century of sobriety.

  "What the fuck is happening?" I wonder, feeling a surge of energy unlike anything I've experienced in my arboreal existence.

  Suddenly, knowledge floods my consciousness. It seems my old Gluttony ability has activated! I can actually absorb her cultivation energy through direct contact! The revetion hits me like a ton of premium fertilizer – this isn't just a suicide pn anymore; it's a power-up opportunity!

  I focus harder, channeling whatever remains of my Divine Emperor techniques into the absorption process. A soft golden glow emanates from the contact points between my roots and Senior Sister Liu's increasingly pale skin.

  "Elder Wei! It's... it's draining my cultivation!" she cries out, her vibrant eyes dimming slightly as her spiritual energy flows into me. "I can't circute my Heavenly Azure Lotus technique!"

  The sensation is EXQUISITE. After a century of nothing but dirt, water, and photosynthesis, suddenly I'm feasting on premium, grade-A cultivation energy. It's like going from instant ramen to a five-star banquet. I can feel her Heavenly Azure Whatever-The-Fuck energy merging with my own, strengthening my wooden form and, more importantly, giving me greater control over my movements.

  "Senior Sister Liu's cultivation is being suppressed!" shouts Captain Obvious, the young disciple from earlier. "The demonic flora is absorbing her Primordial Yin energy!"

  Primordial what now? I mentally pause mid-slurp. These cultivators and their obsession with virginity is honestly weird as hell. In my day, I collected beauties for my harem based on their wit, cultivation potential, and ability to appreciate a good rice wine. The whole "pure yin" thing always seemed like some creepy old patriarch's fantasy.

  But hey, whatever this energy is, it tastes AMAZING.

  With my newly enhanced control, I extend more tendrils, thinner ones that can slip beneath the fabric of her flowing blue robes. The sensation of touching actual human skin after over a century of only feeling dirt and rainwater is mind-blowing. I swear, if trees could get erections, I'd be giving these cultivators something to REALLY worry about right now.

  "AIEEEE!" Senior Sister Liu shrieks, half in terror, half in... something else? "It's... it's going under my robes!"

  I've wrapped tendrils around her slender waist, others curling gently around her graceful neck, and several more exploring the contours of her legs. With each passing second, I absorb more of her energy, and my control grows more precise. I can now move my roots with the dexterity of fingers, allowing me to appreciate the softness of her skin with an arborist's thoroughness.

  "Jade Clear Sky Sect disciples! Formation Twelve! We must save Senior Sister Liu's purity!" Elder Constipation roars, organizing the young cultivators into what appears to be an attack formation.

  Twelve cultivators arrange themselves in a circle, drawing spirit swords that glow with various colors. Show-offs. In my day, we just stabbed people without the light show.

  "Do these idiots seriously think I'm some kind of tentacle monster from those Japanese scrolls?" I muse, internally cackling as I deliberately tighten my hold on Liu's struggling form. "Although... now that they mention it..."

  Why not have some fun while I'm at it? If they're going to kill me anyway (which is the goal), I might as well enjoy this rare opportunity for entertainment. I've been BORED OUT OF MY MIND for a century. A little tentacle action seems like fair compensation.

  I spiral one particurly dextrous root up Senior Sister Liu's inner thigh, moving with deliberate slowness. Her cultivation techniques give her enhanced sensitivity—I can tell from the way her qi flutters beneath her skin—which means she's feeling EVERYTHING in high definition.

  "N-no! Not there!" she gasps as my tendril brushes against the junction of her thighs. Her face flushes crimson, visible even through my limited root-perception.

  "ATTACK THE DEMON FLORA!" Elder Beard commands.

  The formation of cultivators unches their first assault, sending bdes of spiritual energy cutting toward my roots. The attacks slice through some of my smaller tendrils, but thanks to the energy I've absorbed from Liu, my main roots have hardened to the consistency of divine metal. Their spiritual bdes barely scratch the surface.

  "It's too powerful!" one of the disciples cries. "Our Heaven-Splitting Sword Qi isn't working!"

  I mentally snicker. Heaven-Splitting Sword Qi? More like Paper-Cut Causing Minor Inconvenience Qi. These juniors wouldn't have sted five miliseconds against me in my youth.

  Meanwhile, I continue my exploration of Senior Sister Liu's body, extending finer and finer tendrils that wrap around her limbs and torso with increasing intimacy. I snake one particurly ambitious root between her breasts, earning a strangled gasp that doesn't sound entirely like protest.

  "Elder Wei! The... the flora demon is... AHHH!" Her sentence ends in a moan as I squeeze gently.

  "I apologize for the impropriety, Senior Sister," I think wryly, "but after a century of celibacy, a tree has needs."

  The absorption of her energy continues, the golden glow intensifying. I can feel her cultivation level dropping as mine rises. With each passing moment, my control grows more precise, my movements more fluid. I can now manipute dozens of tendrils simultaneously, each one moving with purpose and intent.

  "S-stop! This is... this is indecent!" Liu protests, though her body's reactions tell a different story. Her spiritual energy pulses with each touch, almost like it's responding to my manipution.

  The Jade Clear Sky Sect disciples continue their attacks, now joined by several members of the enemy sect who apparently decided that saving a damsel from tentacle flora takes precedence over their previous blood feud. How touching. The power of horniness truly transcends sectarian conflicts.

  "Convergent Heaven-Earth Formation!" Elder Constipation commands, and the disciples rearrange themselves into yet another fancy pattern.

  This time, their combined attack actually manages to sever several of my rger roots. Pain nces through my wooden form, but it's a minor inconvenience compared to the pleasure of absorption and tactile sensation.

  "Senior Sister Liu! Hold on!" the young admirer calls out. "We'll save you!"

  Liu doesn't answer. She's too busy gasping as my tendrils work their way under her inner robes, exploring curves and hollows that haven't seen daylight in years. I find myself genuinely curious about human anatomy after so long in pnt form. The softness, the warmth, the little movements as muscles contract beneath skin—it's all fascinating from a scientific perspective.

  Yeah, scientific. That's what we'll call it.

  "Disciples! The demon flora is feeding on Sister Liu's vital essence! We must act quickly before she is defiled completely!" Elder Beard's voice rises to a thunderous pitch.

  Defiled? Please. I prefer the term "botanically appreciated."

  My absorption rate increases as I make more contact with her skin. The golden glow has now spread throughout my entire root system, making me look like some kind of festival decoration. Liu's cultivation continues to drop, and I can sense her strength failing. Her struggles grow weaker, though her gasps grow louder as I discover particurly sensitive spots.

  "I-I can't..." she moans, head falling back as my tendril wraps around a particurly intimate area. "Elder Wei... they're... everywhere..."

  The disciples redouble their efforts, sshing madly at my roots. A few of the smarter ones have started targeting the ground around me, trying to dig up my main trunk. Not the worst strategy, though they'd need a cultivation level about ten times higher to make any real progress against my now-reinforced body.

  "The main body must be nearby!" shouts one of the quick-witted cultivators. "Search for an unusual tree!"

  I mentally scoff. Unusual? I'm the most ordinary-looking oak in this entire forest. The perfect disguise for a former Divine Emperor—hiding in pin sight.

  With my enhanced control, I begin vibrating some of the tendrils wrapped around Senior Sister Liu's more sensitive areas. The effect is immediate and dramatic. Her back arches, her mouth opens in a silent scream, and her qi fluctuates wildly.

  "N-no! Not like this!" she gasps, but her body betrays her. The conflict between her outward protests and physical responses is honestly hirious from my perspective.

  "If only my old harem could see me now," I think wistfully. "Tree Emperor Shin, Master of Woodpy."

  The absorption continues, and I can feel myself approaching a threshold. With each passing moment, I grow stronger while Liu grows weaker. Her once-vibrant spiritual energy is now barely flickering, like a candle about to gutter out.

  Suddenly, there's a disturbance in the air—a pressure so intense it makes even my hardened roots creak. A new presence has entered the clearing, radiating power on a completely different level from these junior disciples.

  "ENOUGH!" thunders a voice that actually makes the ground tremble.

  A figure descends from the sky, surrounded by swirling clouds and crackling lightning. Talk about an entrance. This guy definitely practiced that in the mirror.

  "Grand Elder Yun!" the disciples cry in unison, relief evident in their voices.

  Oh shit. This isn't just any elder—it's the Big Boss, the true powerhouse of the sect. I can feel his cultivation level from here, and it's... significantly higher than my current tree-state. Like, "could-uproot-me-with-a-thought" higher.

  Grand Elder Yun is ancient, with a beard that reaches his knees and eyebrows so long they could double as whips. His robes are impossibly white (how does he keep them clean in a forest?), and his eyes glow with inner power. Cssic top-tier cultivator aesthetics. Probably spends his spiritual energy keeping his appearance on point.

  "A Demonic Flora from the Ancient Abyssal Forest," Grand Elder Yun pronounces, as if reading from an encyclopedia. "These parasitic pnts feed on cultivation and vital essence, particurly from young female cultivators."

  I mentally roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised my leaves don't shake. Ancient Abyssal Forest? I'm from a random mountain where I committed suicide as the Divine Emperor, thank you very much. But sure, bel me some exotic demon pnt if it makes you feel better about getting your ass kicked by a tree.

  "Release the disciple," Grand Elder Yun commands, pointing a bony finger at me.

  "Or what?" I think defiantly, tightening my grip on Senior Sister Liu. Her weakened body responds with a shudder that's definitely not from fear alone.

  Grand Elder Yun's eyes narrow. "So be it."

  He makes a single hand seal—just one, the show-off—and the air around him distorts. Suddenly, a massive pressure bears down on my entire being, threatening to crush my trunk and roots. This is serious spiritual power, the kind that could actually destroy me.

  Which is exactly what I want, right? This was the pn all along: find someone to kill me so I can reincarnate again, hopefully as something with legs next time. Mission accomplished.

  But...

  There's something immensely satisfying about the position I'm in right now. After a century of boredom, I'm finally having FUN. I'm absorbing cultivation, feeling human touch, and generally causing chaos. Do I really want it to end so quickly?

  Plus, there's the matter of Senior Sister Liu. My tendrils have worked their way into intimate contact with her most sensitive areas, and I can feel her qi responding, building toward something despite her weakened state. It would be a shame to leave the job unfinished, so to speak.

  "Tell you what, Gramps," I think, knowing he can't hear me but enjoying the mental dialogue anyway, "how about we compromise? You get your disciple back... eventually. After I'm done with my botanical examination."

  I pour more energy into the tendrils wrapped around Liu's body, causing them to pulse with golden light. The vibrations increase, and her already-weakened state makes her hypersensitive to every movement. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and a sound escapes her that definitely isn't pain.

  "E-Elder Yun!" she gasps, mortification coloring her features as her body betrays her. "P-please... it's... I can't..."

  Grand Elder Yun's face darkens with fury and—is that embarrassment? The ancient cultivator actually looks uncomfortable witnessing his disciple in such a compromising position. How adorably prudish.

  "Close your eyes, disciples!" he commands the younger cultivators, most of whom are staring with expressions ranging from horror to fascination to poorly concealed envy.

  "But Grand Elder, how will we assist if we cannot see?" asks one particurly bold (or stupid) young man.

  "CLOSE THEM!" Grand Elder Yun roars, and the disciples immediately comply, though I notice several peeking through barely-closed fingers.

  Meanwhile, I continue my arboreal exploration of Senior Sister Liu's body, focusing particurly on areas that elicit the strongest reactions. Her cultivation might be suppressed, but her body's responses are becoming more and more enthusiastic. Each touch sends tremors through her slender form, each squeeze draws out a sound more wanton than the st.

  I'm not even absorbing energy anymore—I'm just having fun. After a century of sensory deprivation, this tactile feast is too delicious to rush.

  "Grand Elder," Liu moans, her head falling back as my tendrils work their magic, "it's... it's making me... AHHH!"

  Her back arches violently, her whole body tensing as pleasure overwhelms her cultivator's discipline. The spiritual energy remaining in her system fres wildly, creating a dispy of light that would put a fireworks festival to shame.

  "Did I just make a Jade Beauty orgasm with tree tentacles?" I marvel to myself. "That's definitely not in any cultivation manual I've ever read."

  Grand Elder Yun has had enough. His face is now the color of a ripe tomato, whether from rage or embarrassment is hard to tell.

  "HEAVENLY PUNISHMENT PALM!" he roars, making a crushing motion with his hand.

  The sky above literally tears open, revealing a glimpse of stars despite it being daytime. A massive golden palm, easily the size of a small mountain, materializes and sms down toward my position with the force of divine judgment.

  "Now THAT'S more like it," I think appreciatively. "Go big or go home, Grandpa."

  In the split second before impact, I give Senior Sister Liu one final, comprehensive squeeze with all my tendrils, eliciting a cry that will probably feature in the dreams of every male disciple present for years to come. Her eyes roll back, her body convulses, and her remaining spiritual energy surges in a spectacur dispy.

  "Worth it," I think as the Heavenly Punishment Palm crashes down.

  The impact is... substantial. Grand Elder Yun's attack obliterates not just me but a good portion of the surrounding forest. My consciousness splinters as my wooden body is reduced to atoms, the absorbed energy dispersing in a shower of golden sparks.

  The st thing I perceive is Senior Sister Liu colpsing into the arms of her fellow disciples, her robes in disarray, her face flushed, and her expression a fascinating mixture of relief, exhaustion, and something that looks suspiciously like satisfaction.

  "Goodbye," I think as darkness cims me once more. "It's been... stimuting."

  And then there's nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  Until...