"I request another gathering tomorrow night," Master Xing said quietly, her voice heavy with gravity. "I need time to reflect… perhaps the night after as well. By the third night—who knows what may befall this place."
Master Zhang gave a solemn nod. Li echoed the gesture, silent but resolute. Across the room, Assim and Moses moved toward the doorway, parting the curtain just enough to peer outside.
A long breath passed. Then one of them muttered,
"He's still there. Hasn't moved an inch."
"I'll return to my quarters," Master Zhang said softly. "We've stirred enough waters for one night."
Only Master Karabaw remained seated—immovable, stone-like—his massive frame lost in contemplation. A few disciples lingered, their eyes clouded with thought.
Li rose and followed Master Zhang into the night. The cool air hit him like a revelation—only now did he notice how stifling the chamber had become.
"Master Zhang," Li asked, his voice uncertain, "are the militias truly gaining this much strength?"
Zhang gazed skyward, his eyes distant. Li had heard whispers of unrest among the stars—species disillusioned with Covenant law—but he'd always dismissed them as fringe voices. Tonight's whispers hinted at something far deeper.
"Li… the Covenant has failed many worlds. I speak for change, but hold little sway. If we do not alter our course, we'll only invite greater rebellion."
"And the Vault," Li pressed. "They're connected to it too, aren't they?"
Zhang's gaze did not waver. "Deep down, your heart already knows."
Li looked skyward as well. The moon loomed larger now, its surface dotted with shimmering city lights. From here, they were pinpricks—but Li could imagine their true scale.
"Master Zhang… I can't sleep. Would you walk with me and talk a while longer?"
Zhang nodded, and together they wandered to the far edge of the Wisdom Bank—where Li had sat that very morning beside the pond. Now, under moonlight, the pond glowed faintly.
They stood in silence, the surface still. Then Li gasped.
There—beneath the shimmer—was a pale face, grinning up at them. It stared without blinking.
"Master Zhang… do you see that?"
Zhang leaned forward, peering into the water. But the face was gone—or had sunk deeper, where no light could reach.
Li turned and sprinted to the nearest guard. Moments later, the soldier returned with him, peering into the pond while Master Zhang remained unmoving, his gaze fixed on the surface.
The guard dipped his spear into the water and stirred gently. A single bubble rose—then silence.
He straightened and said, "There's nothing. Be cautious, but I see no cause for concern."
Li blinked, uncertain. He knew he had seen something. But seeing the weariness on Master Zhang's face, he said nothing.
The old Master rested a hand on Li's shoulder, leaned in, and whispered a single word:
"Song."
Li frowned.
"You mean… the Paduk's song? The one about the two boys this time?"
As they returned, Li recounted the tale, its words dancing in the quiet between them. Eventually, he made his way back to the dormitory. Master Zhang remained outside, still as the stars he watched—just like the Imbecile.
Soon enough, Li would understand what Master Zhang had truly meant when he whispered that single word: Song.