AN: Well, the one person who reviewed last chapter was the deciding vote. I'll continue this and see where it leads me. For canon timing, this fic takes place 3-4 days after the burning of Cloud Recesses in CQL/Untamed/MDZS canon and chapter 8-9 of Arrow's Fall, book 3 of the Arrows of the Queen trilogy in the Valdemar universe (near the tail-end of Herald Talia's capture) by now-King Ancar.

The Song of Rest: An Xi from The Untamed OST

Side Note: The Gift of Tongues is a legit, canon ability in the Valdemar universe and has appeared in humans. It's just very rare. After this chapter, when/if it becomes needed, I'll start differentiating between Valdemaran and the cultivator's language.

Chapter summary: In which Lan Xichen wakes up in a foreign place, learns something about himself, teaches another about himself, and allows himself to, finally feel.

3: Song of Rest

She covered ground faster than she ever had before. Her hooves devoured mile after mile as she galloped towards Haven all the while worrying about her Chosen lying limp and unconscious across her back. She could still feel him clinging to life with a fierce determination she admired and reinforced with all the mental and emotional strength she could spare.

She could feel his mind shimmering like a golden thread woven irrevocably through the intricate tapestry of her mind. She couldn't remember ever feeling a mind quite like his but she loved it nonetheless. She would not lose her Chosen so soon after finding him. She had waited for three long years before the pull of the Search finally ripped through her being with an urgency that demanded she leave now or lose everything.

She'd still barely made it in time. Perhaps he would still have been alive had she found him any later, but she wouldn't have been able to Choose him, preventing her from sharing her strength with his until he regained consciousness. Judging by how thoroughly drained he was now, even after hours of rest on her back as she sprinted across Valdemar, she could only imagine how badly he would have fared without her assistance. Maybe he would have made it.

Maybe not.

She shook her head and reinforced his shields once more. She hadn't realized he'd been leaking. Her Chosen had a powerful Gift of Empathy and without her reinforcing his shields, he leaked like a sieve. Whatever had driven him to Valdemar must have struck him at his core and she cursed it.

All while a secret, selfish part of herself thanked the Havens that he still came to her.

Then the towering white spires of the city of Haven, the capitol of Valdemar, rose from the horizon and she dismissed all other thoughts and raced to her goal. She would not lose her Chosen!

:Sayvil!: she called. :Someone get a Healer!:

:Gala?!: Sayvil gasped, the other Companion's grouchy mental voice a welcome relief. :What in Havens are you hollering about? You'll wake the entire city.:

:My Chosen! He needs a Healer!: Gala cried, glancing back at her unconscious Chosen. She projected his burned and smoked smudged clothes flapping in the wind, his long black hair tangling in her white mane, and his slack expression.

:Havens!: Sayvil's mental presence faded as the other Companion passed Gala's plea on to others. :It's been done, Gala,: Sayvil said, her steady mental Mindspeech returning. She gave a horsy snort and the impression of tossing her mane. :I've informed the Healer's Collegium. Help will be waiting when you arrive.:

The clench of worry released and Gala began to relax. :Thank you,: she said gratefully. :He might benefit from Talia's help. He's a strong Empath and he's leaking through my shields.:

She got the impression of ears flicking up in attention. :I see. I'll do what I can. What happened to him?: Sayvil pressed, concern seeping into her gruff Mindspeech. :Do you know?:

:I don't,: Gala admitted. :His physical injuries don't appear serious, but he could barely stand when I found him alone in the Pelagirs.:

:The Pelagirs?!: Sayvil gasped. :That alone explains a lot. We'll be ready.:

Xichen drifted back into awareness when a sudden influx of many intense emotions assaulted his mind all at once. His golden core pulsed heavy and leaden under his sternum. His spiritual energy was slowly returning to him after his long, desperate flight from cloud Recesses. But it would be a few days yet before it was back at full strength.

Strange. He couldn't remember ever feeling this drained after a flight to Qinghe before. Was he in Qinghe?

:No Chosen,: a feminine voice, soft and gentle as a mountain breeze, whispered in his mind. :This is Haven.:

Haven? He had never heard of a town by that name in any of the clan territories he was familiar with. There certainly wasn't any place called Haven close to the Unclean Realm. Had he drifted off course?

Fog muffled the response as the desire to sleep threatened to smother him in its arms once more. Then the rocking motion he hadn't even noticed before stopped and hands touched him. His ribbon shifted.

No!

Flinching away from the offending hand, Xichen surged to wakefulness and pushed himself away. Shock smashed into him from numerous points around him -surrounded!- a moment before he tumbled gracelessly from whatever had been supporting him.

:Chosen!:

Intruder?! Staggering to his feet, Xichen reached for Shuoyue, his hand closing around the comfortingly familiar white jade hilt, and tried to focus his senses on his assailants.

:Chosen, stop. Wait!:

White moved before his exhaustion blurred vision. Wangji?! Why was his brother here? Xichen warned him to flee! To stay away! If his assailants were Wens-

:Don't hurt him! Wait. Just wait a moment, please!:

But they weren't Wens. There were no shades of red or black that could see, only white and blue. Lans? Had some of his clansmen survived the massacre? He blinked, forcing himself to calm his own emotions and separate them from the foreign, intrusive emotions. It took longer than it should have for him to regain a semblance of self-control and allow his vision to clear and sharpen.

Definitely not Wens. In fact, Xichen could honestly say he didn't recognize a single person. Even their facial structure was strange. Their eyes, their hair, their skin tones, their stances, their weapon designs, nothing was familiar. He had never seen such an odd variety in appearances before. It was as if a rainbow had fallen from the sky and draped itself in mortal form.

The only thing that was remotely comforting was the white and blue clothes the majority of the people around him wore. However, though they might wear Gusu Lan Clan colors, Xichen didn't know any of them. Most telling was the distinct absence of any recognition in their eyes.

He didn't know them, and they didn't know him.

Shuoyue hummed in her sheath, ready to leap to his defense should she determine it necessary. But he would not draw her of his own will unless the strangers drew theirs. Only a few of the people in white even wore swords, unlike those in blue.

:They're the Guard, Chosen,: the voice that tugged at his heart and offered him reassurance despite his hesitance said. :It is their duty to protect Haven. Those in white are Heralds, as you will soon be.:

A herald? Wait.

"Where are you?" he said, wincing at the rasp of his smoke-hoarse voice. "Why do you speak to me this way?"

:I am here.:

Living warmth that hummed with ancient power pressed gently against his spine between his shoulder blades. Despite his wariness, Xichen found himself leaning into the touch. He couldn't explain where the unquestioning trust and feeling of this is safe came from. It felt like it had always been there.

Qi that startlingly was not his own wove softly through his mind like silken threads, weaving around and through him, and he felt his mental shields solidify in place. The foreign emotions were not entirely silenced, but they were muffled. His legs wobbled in relief but stubbornly refused to give way.

Cautiously, Xichen turned to the being behind him. Eyes the purest shade of blue he had ever seen gazed into his own with hopeless adoration and trust. He felt like he was drowning beneath the azure sea. A long, equine nose covered in snow white fur as soft as feathers pressed against his chest, nuzzling him.

Spirit!

That should have evoked an immediate reaction drilled into him since he was a child. But it didn't. He found he couldn't do anything but stand and stare into crystalline eyes and feel soft fur beneath his hands. For the first time in a long time, Xichen truly felt like his title's namesake.

:My name is Gala,: the spirit in the shape of a horse murmured in his mind. :I will never lie to you, never abandon you, and never betray you. You are my Chosen, and I love you.:

Gala. A beautiful name, if strange.

My name is Lan Huan, he thought, resting his forehead against hers, mindful of his ribbon, courtesy name Xichen.

Gala hummed. :Xichen. It's good to finally meet you, Xichen. I've waited so long for you.: She nudged him, shifting her body so she formed a wall of solid, radiant white around him. :No harm will come to you here, Xichen. You have my word.:

That mean a lot. He could feel her sincerity like warm sunlight. But… where was here?

:This is Haven.:

But where was Haven?

:Valdemar,: Gala replied, easing images into his mind of grassy fields, a sprawling, three-ringed city, a palace of stone, riders in white astride even whiter mounts.

It wasn't familiar. It was all foreign and strange and fear burbled up from his gut, catching in his throat and dragging a ragged cough from his chest and smoke damaged lungs. He hadn't had enough time for his golden core to recover and begin working on cleansing his lungs or burning away the poison still flowing through his veins.

:Poison?!:

Not deadly, he thought quickly, hoping to soothe away Gala's fears. He hadn't been exposed to it long enough for it to kill him. His uncle was older, frailer, and more easily susceptible to an airborne toxin. Xichen was young and a powerful cultivator. Had he not drained himself of so much spiritual power to get here, it's possible his golden core would have completely burned the poison out of his system by now.

:…golden core?:

He felt himself nodding as he coughed. Something warm and liquid dribbled from his lips and he tasted blood on his tongue. Frowning in frustration, he leaned into Gala's body seeking her warmth and support.

:We have Healers here who can help,: Gala said, genuine worry rippling through him. :Please let them.:

He should. But he couldn't. He had to reach Qinghe. The Wen Clan had finally made their move. The cultivation world needed to be warned. He would be safe in Qinghe. Nie Mingjue would help hide him until he recovered enough to hide his clan's relics and search for Wangji. Together, they could find his father and any surviving members of his clan.

Mingjue was steadfast in his opposition to the Wen Clan and would readily help Xichen. They could work together to find allies willing to fight. Nothing could stop Nie Mingjue when he put his stubborn mind into it. Xichen trusted A-Jue with his life. He was the only one Xichen trusted with his Lan ribbon.

He felt Gala's body jolt in surprise before heartbreaking understanding poured through their connection. She nuzzled him closer until he felt blanketed by her presence both inside and out, lulling him back into the state of calm serenity of a deep meditation. She would not leave him. She would stay by his side as his friend and confidant for as long as he would have her.

:Companions,: she said, a chuckle coloring her voice. :We are called Companions. Where is Herald Talia?:

Who was Talia? Such an odd name, he thought as he drifted from awareness.

He could barely make out part of the muffled reply before he gave in to Gala's comforting rest.

"She's already on her way to Hardorn with Herald Kris to…"

When he woke again, he felt whole and rested. His golden core curled in his chest, full, powerful, and restored. He felt no pain from his burned ankle, the broken rib in his chest, or the subtle ichor of Wen Xu's Red Fire Talisman's poison. His breathing was smooth and unbothered by a sore throat and smoke-clouded lungs and he no longer tasted blood on his tongue.

He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the peace and quiet. He could almost imagine he was still in his bed in Cloud Recesses. If he didn't remember the flames devouring the Forbidden Chamber of the Lan Clan's Library Pavilion, the roof collapsing in around him blasting him with fire and smoke and heat, and the vicious laughter following Wen Chao out of the Hanshi that heralded the beginning of the end.

But he did remember. It had been a nightmare made reality. Wangji. A-Zhan, please be safe.

:Who is he?: Gala whispered softly. in his mind. :Wangji. You called for him and one A-Jue often in your dreams.:

Lan Zhan, courtesy name Wangji. My brother, Xichen answered with a sigh. My younger brother. He felt Gala gently brush his mind with hers, taking care to move slowly and tenderly, as if half expecting him to stop her. Had she been anyone else, he would have. But he trusted her. She knew him like no one ever could.

It was frightening how much of his self that he trusted to this spirit. Everything he had ever learned told him to be wary, slow to trust, and attentive to mood and motive. But he trusted her with everything. Was this some kind of spell?

:It is not,: Gala said. :It is a bond between us that is soul-deep. I am your Companion and you are my Chosen. We are bound together for life.:

Why was that a relief?

Sorrow-tinged hope rippled across the still waters of his mind and Xichen got the mental impression of a horse nudging his cheek. :You are clever and see more than most,: Gala said.

He opened his eyes when he felt a small, quiet smile tug at his lips. The ceiling and walls of his room were made of a pale stone that he didn't recognize. Xichen had been in very few buildings made of stone. All of them had been in Quinghe and the stone had been a dark gray mottled with white and black, not this pale color.

The memory of the Unclean Realm brought memories of Mingjue. The Nie Clan Leader was a tall, sturdy man built for war. His stern, dark eyes sparkled with intelligence and wry amusement in Xichen's memory. His hands were calloused from labor and his saber Baxia, but gentle when needed. His voice-

Xichen cut the thought off before it could fully form and tugged his attention back to the here and now. The ceiling and walls were stone, as was the floor now that Xichen could see it. Moving carefully, Xichen rolled to his side and sat up, gazing at his surroundings in wary curiosity.

There was a large, wooden box standing longways against the wall next to the desk. He wasn't sure as to its purpose, but it must be for storage of some kind based on the two doors attached to the front of it.

On the whole, the room's design was bland and vaguely similar to a guest room or a small dormitory for an outer disciple at Cloud Recesses. The design of the furniture was significantly larger and took more space than what he was used to.

Light streamed in through two windows on the wall the top of his bed was pushed up against. Both were thrown open to let in a soft breeze that smelled faintly of rain, but only one window was occupied. Her white head poking through the window over Xichen's bed and watching at him patiently, was Gala.

He couldn't stop himself from reaching out to her and pressing a hand against her nose, pulling himself closer to her. He pressed his forehead to her nose, avoiding his ribbon with practiced ease, and just breathed. Drawing on years of training, Xichen centered himself and willed his mind and body to simply be still.

He wasn't sure how long they remained like that and he didn't care. It was calming to know he had someone who could just exist with him without expecting him to smile or speak or move. Someone like Wangji.

Eventually, Xichen sighed and sat back, feeling Gala's gaze on him as he did so. To his right, between the two windows and pushed up against the stone wall, was a simple wooden desk and chair. They were set high, clearly designed to allow a person's legs to dangle to the floor rather than merely offer back support and a comfortable place to sit on the floor.

But more important than the furniture's unusual size and height, however, were the objects sitting on the desk. Resting on top of his cleaned and folded, blue silk robes, wash Shuoyue, gleaming in the sunlight. Next to his sword was the sparkling blue-white jade of Liebing. And next to it, was his elegant, silver hairpiece and the four qiankun pouches he had very nearly died trying to fill in the Library Pavilion's Forbidden Chamber.

Releasing his hold on Gala, Xichen stood and strode to the desk. Selfishly, he focused on his personal possessions first. He brushed his fingers lightly over the subtle jade and wood of Shuoyue's sheath, feeling the sword's spirit stir beneath his fingers with a soft hum he felt in his golden core. Liebing was next. The pads of his fingers whispered over the smoothly crafted jade and silver inlays, feeling the icy coolness as the spiritual tool reacted to his own spiritual power.

Satisfied, he reached for the first qiankun pouch, undoing the drawstrings and slipping two fingers into the other space within. He felt the energy of leather-bound books, paper scrolls, and bamboo wood stick scrolls filling the entire space. The same for the second and third pouches. The fourth, however, resonated with the energy of several Jade Tokens, the Mo incense burner, several calligraphy brushes and sealed paint jars, and an old guqin as well.

He couldn't remember grabbing the paints or the Jade Tokens. It must have been when he was swiping everything he could reach from the final shelf. It was no surprise he couldn't remember all he did or grabbed at the time. He'd been half mad from fear and choking on the heat and smoke scorching his throat as the building burned down around him.

Still, he was relieved he'd been able to grab this much given what little time he had. He had given his word. He would not let any of the pouches out of his sight until they were handed to his father, uncle, Wangji, or A-Jue. He hesitated about giving them to A-Jue merely because he was the leader of another clan. Handing over the priceless ancient secrets of the Gusu Lan Clan to another clan leader, whoever they might be, rubbed Lan Xichen the wrong way.

"Was anything done to these?" he asked Gala.

She shook her head. :Aside from removing them and your clothes to reach your wounds, no,: she confirmed.

Right. His clothes. Xichen pressed a hand to his chest as he looked down at himself curiously. He wore a loose fitting short and pants made of soft gray cotton material. The style was vaguely similar to underclothes and he felt distinctly underdressed without his outer robe layers.

Then he reached up to touch the Lan Clan forehead ribbon he could still feel resting comfortingly against his skin. Thank his ancestors it hadn't been removed. That would have been humiliating for all parties involved.

He heard Gala whicker a laugh. :After your reaction when we arrived and,: her voice gained a faint tinge of shy embarrassment, :your memory of giving it to your Nie Mingjue, I warned them against touching it.:

Ah. Xichen flushed. She saw that.

:I did,: she admitted, her white head dipping slightly in apology. :You were tired and afraid of being attacked. I pushed my consciousness closer to yours as an anchor of sorts, to keep you from hurting yourself further.: Her ears folded back. :I didn't mean to see it. But you have my word, I have told no one of the ribbon's significance nor to whom you gave it.:

He nodded with a sigh. "Thank you."

:Mindspeech is a common enough Gift,: Gala explained. :Though Heralds are trained to shield themselves from anyone who might be listening and to not eavesdrop on others' thoughts without permission or if the situation necessitates it. Everyone has the right to the privacy of their own thoughts.:

"And the Companions?" he asked, turning his golden gaze to her iridescent blue. "Do you all speak mind-to-mind."

:We do, yes. We don't have mouths like you humans do, so you understand if forming words like you is a bit beyond our capabilities,: she teased, tossing her main.

"I can imagine," Xichen agreed with a warm smile. "Do you speak to everyone, or just me? You said you warned them about my ribbon."

:I am capable of speaking to people other than you, my Chosen, I just prefer not to usually,: she said. :I speak with my fellow Companions regularly though. Sayvil is a barrel of laughs. But yes, I can speak to other humans too if I so wish.:

Xichen hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly "Why do you call me that?" he asked. "Chosen. What does it mean? You said befo-"

He felt it before he heard it, the weary curiosity of someone who had been up late and wanted to check something before finally retiring for the night. It was painfully similar to Nie Mingjue when he battled his way through one last pile of unforgiving paperwork.

But this was not Nie Mingjue. It was an emotion belonging to someone Xichen did not know. He felt no threat from the person nor did he expect an attack. He had been treated well since his unexpected arrival. Still, he shifted uncomfortably where he stood to a more rooted stance, he felt the lack of his usual layers distinctly. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly as the door to his small room opened.

The woman who stepped in was shorter and older than Xichen by many years but carried herself with the aire of wisdom earned throughout those years. She wore a pale green dress in what was likely this land's preferred style and had her hair pulled back into a bun that was probably tight and orderly when she began her work shift.

When she noticed him standing there watching her, she jumped and gasped. Her bright green eyes -green?- immediately narrowed as she gathered herself and approached him sternly, every inch the healer she must be.

"Why are you out of bed?" she demanded, her words odd sounding and clipped to his ears. It was certainly not an accent he had ever heard before. It didn't sound like Gala's mental voice, Mindspeech she'd called it. Weird.

"You've only just woken," the healer fussed in mild annoyance, waving a finger at Xichen in a manner he had grown to expect from healers dealing with troublesome patients. "Do you want to undo all of the hard work I've done, young man? Gala, why did you let him get up?" she demanded of Xichen's Companion.

Gala reared her head back in guilty surprise. :Well, I…:

Biting back a grin of amusement, Xichen stepped smoothly between the healer and Gala, brought his hands up, and bowed formally to the woman as patient to healer. "I am most grateful for your efforts, Lady Healer," he said politely. "But I can assure you that my injuries are fully healed and your efforts would be better spent on those who truly need it."

He straightened from his bow and clasped both hands behind him in a calm, peaceful stance and waited patiently. The stunned silence filled the air but he paid it not mind. The healer's shock and faint embarrassment fluttered against his mind like feathers, quickly shifting to charmed delight.

"My, my," she said, patting her cheek as a smile blossomed across her face, "aren't you a polite young man. Such manners. And your accent is lovely."

His accent? Bewildered, Xichen simply smiled and nodded, wondering why she hadn't bowed to him in return. A cultural difference perhaps?

"Gala, dear," the healer called, "you told me he didn't speak our language."

What?

Confused, Xichen turned to Gala behind him, but the Companion was staring at him in equal confusion and he could feel surprise radiating off of her.

"Gala?" he said, his brow furrowing slightly in worry. "What does she mean?"

"Oh, what a lovely language," the healer murmured.

Gala blinked then her pride like a brilliant sun warmed his mind. :Well, this certainly makes things easier,: Gala said, whickering a horsey laugh. There was a new, odd quality to her voice, as if it had been spoken in a large chamber for many listeners rather than just whispered in his own ear. :I knew you had a strong Gift of Empathy, but I didn't realize you had the Gift of Tongues as well. Aren't I a lucky girl,: she crowed, shaking her mane.

"Gift of Tongues?" Xichen repeated, sounding out the words with care. It honestly sounded more like a curse than a gift. He could think of several ways a curse by that name could come to a dreadful end for its victim. He sincerely hoped he was mistaken.

"Oh!" the healer gasped, her hands covering her mouth as her green eyes darted between Gala and Xichen. "Now that's a rare Gift indeed. Now come, come, young man," she said, catching Xichen's arm and bustling him down to sit on the bed. "Let me have another look at you."

Puzzled but not sensing a threat, just pride, amusement, and businesslike contemplation, Xichen allowed himself to be guided down to the mattress. The healer then studied him with a trained medical eye before placing her hands just above his heart, not quite touching his clothes. A faint green glow emanated from her hands and her eyes became unfocused like a young cultivator focusing on a new spell.

Again, Xichen felt no threat from the woman, although his golden core did twitch when something like pins and needles brushed over it. The sensation never actually touched his core. It didn't even pause in its vicinity. It simply moved right past it as if the core of spiritual energy hadn't been there at all.

Which was unusual. Most healers who cultivated their spiritual power to heal, as Lan Xichen has been taught, reached directly for the patient's golden core, sharing their own spiritual energy with the patient to boost the natural healing process. What was this healer doing?

:What is a golden core, Chosen?: Gala asked.

What was the Gift of Tongues?

:The ability to speak any language you hear fluently as if it were your own,: the Companion replied readily, her pride and excitement sparkling delightfully in his mind. :All Companions have it, but it's very rare among Humans. I've only ever heard of two other Humans who had the Gift.:

Ah. So then, this woman is not speaking the same language as we are now?

:I am using Mindspeech to read your thoughts, Chosen,: Gala explained patiently, :and no, neither your nor Healer Tabitha have the Gift of Mindspeech. But yes, she is speaking Valdemaran and, except when you spoke to her directly, you were speaking your native tongue. It truly is lovely to listen to.:

He felt her smiled fondly as she continued. :Mindspeech is not words alone so much as words bound up in emotions and memories. That's why it's nearly impossible to lie when speaking this way.:

Interesting and useful. Although he could see how such a skill could be detrimental, it truly was a fascinating concept. To talk with someone like that sounded and felt like a very personal experience. He flushed at the idea of someone other than Gala, Wangji, or Nie Mingjue sensing his thoughts in such way. If Wen Chao had had such a Gift-

Fires. Hot. Everywhere. Always listening Always watching. Wangji!

:Xichen!:

Startled, Xichen blinked and instantly examined himself. His face felt like it hadn't shifted expressions, his hands were exactly where he had placed them, and his meridians were clear and flowing freely. But his heart was pounding in his chest and he felt slightly lightheaded.

:Xichen, are you alright?: Gala called, worry flooding his mind like a river seeking to fill every crevice.

I am well, he thought back to her. Just bad memories.

A hand under his chin lifted his face just enough so Healer Tabitha's green eyes could glare at him. "Fully healed, indeed," she snorted indignantly, crossing her arms and glaring at Xichen as if he were an errant child. "Almost had my fooled by those manners, that you did. I'll give you some credit, you control it better than almost anyone I've dealt with. But I know a panic attack when I see one."

She pressed two fingers against the side of his throat. Instinctively, Xichen breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, drawing spiritual energy from his golden core and circulating it through his body in an effort to calm his spirit.

He would need the practice anyway. If Cloud Recesses was anything like what the Qishan Wen Clan had in store for the cultivation world, then Lan Xichen would see more than his fair share of fire, violence, and death very soon. He could not afford to fall apart just from a memory. He had a duty as the Lan Clan Heir to fulfill his oath to love, protect, and watch his people before all else.

Xichen needed to go to Qinghe. He needed to find Wangji. He would not stand by and hide if the Wens attacked. No other clan would suffer the same devastation as the Gusu Lan Clan. He prayed to every ancestor he could think of that his messenger butterflies reached their intended recipients. Hopefully the forewarning would help mitigate things until Xichen could get back.

Healer Tabitha finally stepped back and hummed. "Well, you were half right. Your physical wounds are fully healed and your clean of any poison as far as I can tell." She pursed her lips. "The burn on your ankle was minor but the broken rib came perilously close to puncturing your lunch. We had to maneuver it back into place. When one of my apprentices came running back to tell me they'd removed your bandaged this morning because the bone was fully healed, I didn't believe him." She shook her head, and Xichen felt her reluctant amazement. "Apparently, he was correct." She eyed him. "You heal much faster than I expected."

Xichen smiled politely, subtly using his Empathy to drape calm and acceptance onto her like a thin, silken veil to forestall any further questions or curiosity. He felt Gala's presence in the back of his mind, observing with wary fascination. She didn't interfere or comment on his actions, she simply observed.

After a few seconds, Healer Tabitha sighed. "Fine," she said gruffly. "But I highly suggest you see a Mindhealer about that panic attack just now. It might have been minor, it might even have even been nothing and I'm overreacting. But better safe than sorry. Gala," she said, deliberately looking at the Companion, "see to it he doesn't avoid a Mindhealer forever. For my own peace of mind if not his own."

The Companion bowed her head respectfully. :I will endeavor to do so,: she said sincerely.

Please don't.

:I promised to try, Xichen. That's all,: Gala said calmly, a sly snicker echoing in his mind. :I do think it would be a good idea, but I won't force you.:

Thank you.

"If it pleases you, Healer Tabitha," Xichen said, stumbling over the pronunciation of her name and odd, clipped syllables and interesting word choices of the… Valdemaran language, "is there a garden nearby? Or a stream or place where nature still holds sway?"

The older woman chuckled, the worried frown easing from her face replaced by fondness. "It does please me," she replied in kind, "and yes, there is a garden. You'll have to walk a bit to reach the stream though. The Collegium might still be visible from there, but it's a nice place for a walk and some quiet time alone. There's also Companion's Field." She nodded to Gala. "Your Companion knows the way to both options."

:I would be happy to guide you, Xichen,: Gala said happily, her ears twitching.

Xichen stood and offered another bow to Healer Tabitha before turning and bowing to Gala as well, this one slightly deeper. "I would be most grateful for the assistance."

Which is how he found himself wearing his freshly cleaned blue robes, the qiankun pouches tied securely to his belt, Liebing gripped in his right hand and pressed to his stomach, and Shuoyue clutched in his left hand by his side. Gala's hooves chimed as she trotted next to him at a slow, even pace. She made no effort to encourage him to speak or nudge him into interacting with others, many of whom stared at him as he passed.

From what he had seen, Lan Xichen's physical appearance and clothes were not typical in Valdemar. Then again, the physical appearance and clothing styles of Valdemar were just as foreign to him. More than once, he caught himself staring at someone's choice of shirt or dress or hair color. He didn't even know red hair was possible, and it had been such a vibrant shade.

He didn't just spend his time observing the people. He also observed the land. Birds sang unfamiliar songs, squirrels darted from branch to branch, and white horses he assumed to be other Companions strolled through the garden often by the side of a person dressed in either gray or white.

:Heralds,: Gala informed him. :Herald Trainees wear gray as you would if you so chose, and full Heralds wear white.:

What do they mourn? He wondered.

:Mourn?:

Xichen considered what Gala told him of Mindspeech and drew up memories of his mother's death. The white robes he, Wangji, Lan Qiren, and many of the Lan Clan wore for forty-nine days afterwards. White robes Wangji still preferred to this day.

:White is the color of mourning for your people?: Gala asked, intrigued. :Black is typically the color Valdemarans wear for mourning.:

"Indeed?" he murmured, his native language rolling comfortably off his tongue as he glanced at the Companion. "For us, black is the color of the night sky. Many humans sleep during the night, but many others, animals and cultivators alike, do not. It is not an inherently evil color." Except when associated with the Qishan Wen Clan. "White is the mourning color because it is the lack of color," he explained. "It is clean, untouched, and reflects both the loss of this life and the start of a potential new life. The dead are dressed in white before they are buried. Or," he added thoughtfully, "burned if the dead was a cultivator."

One of Gala's ears quirked in his direction. :A cultivator?: she asked. :What is a cultivator? What makes them different enough to require burning instead of burial?:

Xichen breathed a small laugh. "A cultivator is someone who cultivates their Qi through different forms of meditation, martial, and mystical arts to manipulate spiritual energy, among other things. It's a bit more complicated than that but…" He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It's best to burn a dead cultivator's body for many reasons."

:Does that have to do with the… golden core you spoke of?: Gala pressed, interested.

"A golden core is what allows a cultivator to cultivate spiritual energy in the first place," Xichen said. "It's best to develop it young, but it can be developed at an older age. Though golden cores created later in life tend to be weaker."

Gala hummed.

Xichen allowed her to process his words. :Could… Could you show me?: she asked after a few minutes of silence.

The qiankun pouches hung heavy from his belt, their secrets a burden on his mind. He could not share their secrets to anyone outside his clan. But the cultivation style of the Lan Clan of Gusu was no secret and well respected in the cultivation world. The Song of Inquiry was specifically written to summon and speak with spirits and required a guqin to be played.

And Gala was a spirit within a horse's body.

"I can," he replied.

He paused and lowered his shields, reaching out with his Empathy as far as he could reach. Dozens of individual emotions danced through his senses from all directions, clustered primarily behind them at the Collegium. Some were alive and very much human. Others felt like Gala, living spirits. But other than Gala herself, there were no pinpricks of emotion of any kind in their immediate vicinity.

So he moved to one of the stone benches and sat, crossing his legs and pulling one of the qiankun pouches into his lap. Opening the drawstrings, he reach into it with his Qi and pulled out the guqin. The stunned astonishment from Gala at the instrument's appearance was a splash of cold water he wasn't expecting.

Pausing, Xichen placed a hand lightly on the seven stringed instrument and lifted his gaze to the Companion. "Is something wrong?" he asked, reaching out with his Empathy and his strange, new bond with Gala to understand what had shocked her so.

:Where…? How did-: The Companion took one cautious step forward and snuffled the guqin with awed interest. :I have never seen something like that before.:

Sensing his confusion, Gala merely shook her head, excitement spilling into him through their bond. She clomped her chiming hooves happily. :Show me more!:

Looking down to hide the proud smile that threatened to overwhelm his control, he simply tied the qiankun pouch closed and let it dangle in his lap. Then his fingers plucked the guqin strings, testing their sound and tuning them as needed. He hadn't been as careful with it as he normally would have when he'd grabbed it and jammed it into the qiankun pounch back in the Forbidden Chamber, after all. Correct musical notes were important to Lan Clan musical cultivation.

Gala didn't seem to mind though. She was clearly enjoying listening to him just tune his instrument. Her chiming hooves sometimes tapped what almost sounded like a half-hearted harmony. A smile came unbidden to his face and his heart swelled with pride and love.

The last chord reverberated through the garden as he pondered that word. Love. Swallowing thickly, Lan Xichen took a deep breath and felt the mask of Zewu-jun fall easily into place. His shoulders lifted, his back straightened, and his fingers rested delicately on the strings.

Love. Lans only love once. It wasn't just a saying, it was a truth. Familial love and the love they had for friends was only human. But the love for that one person or persons that was unique, special, romantic or platonic, and that typically resulted in those involved becoming Cultivation Partners… Lans only felt that once.

For Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue was his Cultivation Partner in every way that mattered. Lan Xichen had given Nie Mingjue his Lan Clan forehead ribbon and Nie Mingjue had tied a Nie clan braid into Lan Xichen's hair the night they swore their vows alone with only the stars and their ancestors as witnesses. But A-Jue had returned Xichen's ribbon and Xichen had undone A-Jue's braid the next morning. They were Cultivation Partners, but Clan Leader and Clan Heir first.

Clan always came first.

The love Lan Xichen felt for Gala wasn't like that. It was almost familial in nature, like the sister he never had and hadn't realized he'd wanted or needed. He loved her and it didn't frighten him as much as it probably should.

Still, he loved her. And because he loved her…

"You are a spirit in the flesh of a horse," Lan Xichen said, holding her shimmering blue with his own gold and reinforcing his desire for to understand. "My Clan specializes in using music to communicate with spirits of both the dead and the almost dead who can no longer speak for themselves. The Song of Inquiry is, by far, one of the least harmful. I ask a question, the spirit answers. They cannot lie nor can they avoid answering."

She hesitated and he let her. He had no desire to harm her or make her feel compelled to answer. He could play the Song of Rest instead. Or, if she wished for it, he would simply play a song and funnel his Empathy enhanced by his spiritual energy into it rather his spiritual energy alone. It wouldn't be what Gala had asked for, but it wouldn't be harmful in any way either.

Eventually, Gala lowered her head, her tail swishing. :What would you ask of me?:

"The first two questions taught to every disciple who chooses to cultivate this skill are these: 'Who are you?'" Xichen felt his heart clench, "and 'Who killed you?'"

The Companion's tail stilled. The silence hung between them, heavy and unbroken. Thunder rolled in the distance and Xichen felt the pinpricks of emotion begin to move further away, back towards the buildings. The smell of rain filled the air as the wind began to pick up, bending the trees above their heads and stirring the leaves at their feet.

:I… I don't want to answer that,: she whispered, heartbreak, guilt, and loss in her voice.

Xichen nodded in quiet understanding, softening his gaze. Removing his hands from the strings, he swept his hand over the instrument, dismissing its energy into the qiankun pouch.

"Then I could play the Song of Rest," he offered, drawing Liebing from his belt and holding the xiao out for Gala to examine. "It soothes spirits and temporarily placates resentful energy. It will do no harm to anyone or anything."

Gala hesitated.

"Or I can simply play for you," Xichen said finally. "Just a song, no power behind it save what the music itself invokes within. Or," he looked up at the rain-laden sky, "we could just sit in silence. Whichever you prefer, Lady Gala."

Gala held her silence as the first few drops of rain began to fall. Lightning flashed, jagged and spidery across the sky followed seconds later by thunder. It wasn't the same as the storms in Cloud Recesses, when the very air itself dances with lightning, the rain envelops the Hanshi, and the wind howls a mournful song.

Xichen rolled the recent events over in his mind. He was vaguely certain he was handling all of this a tad too well. A part of him wondered when the next chopstick would drop and everything would come crashing down around his ears like it had when Wen Xu invaded and burned his home.

:Would you tell me about it? Or… show me?: Gala asked tentatively, careful curiosity and interest coloring her words. :Your home, I mean? You don't have to, if you don't want to,: she amended quickly. :It's just… Whenever you think of it, you see fire and I… It hurts you and I want to help.:

He could. The memory of the burning was fresh and would be forever scorched into his mind like a scar. But it would never ruin his memory of Cloud Recesses, even if it still ached like an open wound.

:You could… play Song of Rest,: she offered, leaning so her nose brushed his chest. :You said it soothes spirits. It might help.:

It… might. He dropped his gaze to Liebing and sighed. Lifting the jade xiao to his lips, he played the soft, plaintive notes of Song of Rest and thought of Cloud Recesses. He thought of the stars falling through the sky like heaven's tears. He thought of little Wangji's wonder when the first firefly flashed in his palm. He thought of his first kiss with A-Jue under the blooming plum tree by the back mountain stream. He thought of the first time he entered the Cold Pond Cave and felt the spiritual energy moving in the very air. He thought of his mother and her gentian flowers.

He thought of Wen Chao and his whispered threats to Wangji. He thought of Wen Xu and the poisonous flames he brought to Xichen's home. He thought of what he believed would be his death and played Song of Rest.

And wept.