Every day, Anzan patrolled the grounds of the Great Monad Temple from dawn to dusk. He started his mornings in the terraced groves and gardens that lined the boundary seal, looping his way up and around the temple, taking note of every stalk and petal along the path. He would work through the gardens till around midday when he reached the central peaks. Then he would go through the outer courtyards, and then the inner courtyards; then the halls, the dorms, and the workshops. He’d be busy all afternoon, only just reaching the temple’s Great Hall atop its highest peak by sundown. And with his work finished, he’d lay down on the steps and stare at the horizon until his eyes grew heavy. In those moments before sleep, the stale and oppressive silence always weighed on him. The lack of bell tolling or sutra chanting, the absence of hurried footsteps from junior disciples, or accompanying lectures from senior monks. Somehow, the wrongness of it all always managed to catch hold of him just before he could sleep, reminding him that the Great Monad Temple was empty. That he was alone.

It was a day like every other, and having finished his patrol, Anzan lay sprawled on the steps, watching as the drooping sun slipped under the world’s edge. After it fell away, a blanket of stars unfurled across the sky, and a deep frown settled on his face. Yet another day was done, and yet another day had passed without any sign of his masters. He’d long given up hoping for their return, but his eyes never stopped searching for them just the same. Time passed, a lonely breeze crossed his cheek, and his head bobbed as sleep started to take hold. Then his ears twitched.

He leaped up, hair standing on end as his attention zeroed in on the disciple dorms. His luminous predator’s eyes shone like great, roving lanterns, and he locked up with tension, looking and listening. But then his sleepy thoughts finally caught up to him, and he huffed and shook his head—it had to be a delusion. He knew there was nothing, that there could be nothing. His masters sealed the temple when they left, and he’d walked every inch of the boundary and examined everything inside it many times over in the years since. He sighed, relaxing a little, but he was still too alert and awake to sleep, so his eyes started to wander.

He caught something in the corner of his eye and instantly recoiled.

Off to the side, placed in a prominent but out-of-the-way position, was a statue of a fearsome lion. It seemed the very image of bestial ferocity with bared fangs and a wild mane. It was meant to be a likeness of Anzan, but he didn’t see the resemblance. It was built shortly after he was summoned, memorializing the day the Great Monad Temple gained its guardian spirit beast.

He smiled and grimaced. The statue brought back both his best and worst memories. Memories from the day he was summoned, when everyone was tripping over themselves to greet him. And memories from the day of his first fight, when they all learned he knew nothing of combat or cultivation. They had expected him to have some innate knowledge or fighting instinct, but all Anzan could muster in the face of an enemy was confusion and tail-tucking fear.

Anzan padded down to the statue, gazing thoughtfully at its base where, beneath the stone lion’s paw, there rested a resplendent necklace adorned with a large, blood-red pearl. The Patriarch had called it Anzan’s leash, and he’d left it sitting under the lion’s paw since the day of that first fight. He pawed at it, but it was stuck solidly in place. He often found himself thinking about the necklace. Was it left behind on purpose or by accident?

Suddenly, there was a loud crash.

Pulled from his reverie, Anzan’s clouded eyes widened as he whipped around and stared down into the temple complex. It sounded like the crash had come from the same dorm as before, and he was sure it was no delusion this time. For a moment, he stood still in bewilderment. He dumbly looked to either side as if to confirm that no one else was going to investigate. Finally, Anzan sucked in a breath, pinned back his ears, and edged down the steps in the direction of the dorm.

He started slow and awkward, but his footsteps grew more fluid as he went, settling into a jog as he hit his stride and melted into the shadows. A proficiency in hiding and stealthy movements were Anzan’s only talents. It wasn’t anything special—at least none of his masters seemed too impressed—but to him, it was enough that the shadows were cool and comforting during times of stress.

Anzan slithered across the temple grounds, effortlessly shifting from one shadow to the next as he approached the disciple quarters. He slunk in one of the outer dorms without a sound, his steps growing shorter and less certain as he drew close to the potential intruder. Finally, he hid just outside the door to the rear pantry where the outer disciples kept their necessities. Scrapping and scrounging noises echoed inside—a thief was raiding the disciples’ possessions. Anzan wasn’t much of a guardian, but it was time to do his duty. He wiggled his bottom back and forth as he readied himself. Then, after working up all his courage and putting on his most ferocious expression, he pounced out of the shadows and into the pantry.

He loosed a strangled cry as he raised his claws and searched for his opponent, but he didn’t see any activity inside, so he lowered them. The pantry was a crowded mess. The floor was covered with busted sacks of rice, broken ceramic shards, and pieces of fried wheat gluten. While he was busy peering around, a pudgy spirit mouse darted from under one of the sacks and raced into the hall. Anzan wheeled around after it and began a frantic chase all over the dorm. Before long, the dorm was turned completely upside down with bunks upended and lamp stands knocked over, and there was still no sign of a victor. What Anzan lacked in dexterity, he made up for with speed, but what the mouse lacked in speed, it made up for with dexterity. The two seemed evenly matched. Anzan’s frustrations grew palpable—he couldn’t even catch a mouse! Not only was he a poor excuse for a guardian spirit beast, but he wasn’t much of a cat either. Finally, irritation turned to inspiration, and he feigned a clumsy fall and hid in the shadows. The mouse faltered, seeming not to know what to do after its hunter disappeared, and that hesitation was just enough for Anzan to leap out and snatch it.

He hit the wood floor with a thud, and the mouse squeaked frantically as he pressed it between his paws. Anzan looked down with a predatory grin at first, but then his expression soured. He lifted one of his paws. The mouse was scratching hysterically at the wooden floorboards. It looked pitiful. He lifted his other paw but slapped it back down as the mouse tried to run. What was he supposed to do with it? He supposed the obvious answer was to kill it. He unsheathed one of his claws, felt sick, and re-sheathed it. That was another defect of his, one that seemed to offend the Patriarch more than his lack of skill or knowledge—a lack of killer instinct.

Anzan hemmed and hawed over what to do with the mouse. He waited till it stopped struggling and removed his paws. It lay panting in exhaustion. He prodded it, and it jerked upright, but he waved it to lay back down, and the spirit mouse obeyed. It sat shaking like a leaf till Anzan nuzzled it, and then it seemed to calm down a little. That gave him an idea. Maybe he didn’t have to kill it to prevent it from running amok. Maybe he could just train it and keep an eye on it? That thought brought a smile to his face, and for the first time in a long while, Anzan felt hopeful. He didn’t know where it came from, but at least now he finally had some company.

***

“Alright, Pilgrim, follow me!”

Anzan marched down the garden path at a steady pace, checking over his shoulder every few steps. Behind him, the newly named spirit mouse, Pilgrim, followed in a desultory fashion. It was midmorning, and Anzan was only just starting his patrol. He hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, but his face showed no signs of fatigue, only a wide smile.

As it turns out, training Pilgrim was a task easier said than done. The spirit mouse was intelligent but skittish, and he’d proved a handful thus far, skittering off several times in the night and leading Anzan on wild chases all over the temple. It took him till morning to get the hang of it, but now Anzan could give him a head start and still track him down anywhere in the temple. And after being caught time and again—and with a bit of breakfast as bribery—the spirit mouse finally seemed to warm up to him. Anzan snuck a glance at him. Pilgrim had perked up and was keeping as good a pace as his little legs could. That was good because, as glad as Anzan was to have his new companion, he couldn’t just stop everything and miss his patrol.

The duo made slow progress down the dusty garden path, cutting a gentle curve around the temple through endless fields of herbs and flowers in full bloom. The breeze sent sparkling waves through the fields as the dew-laden flowers swayed and fluttered, and the air was thick with their heady floral fragrances. Over time, Anzan checked on Pilgrim less and less and settled into his usual rhythm. He stopped, scanning the fields, his gaze drifting out past the scenery, away from the temple.

The gardens ended abruptly a ways out on one side of the path, as though someone had taken an enormous knife and cut off a slice of the temple with a single stroke. Everything beyond that slice was hazy and indistinct—only the sun was bright enough to come through clearly. Anzan got closer, wading through a sea of purple flowers and stopping just shy of it. He habitually stretched out one paw and immediately touched a translucent barrier—the boundary seal. In the early days after the temple was sealed, he’d walked the boundary around and around, feeling for some way out, some way to communicate with the outside, something. He had been certain there was no way in or out, and yet the appearance of Pilgrim made him wonder. Could there be something he missed?

There was a sudden retching, and Anzan whipped around.

Pilgrim had lagged way behind and was retching and coughing as he dangled on the stalk of a large bent-over flower. Anzan surged toward him, plucking the spirit mouse from his perch as he spat out a wad of half-eaten flower petals.

“That’ll teach you,” Anzan said. “None of these are edible—they’re…I don’t know what they’re for exactly. Something, Medi-cincal purposes?” Anzan said as he tried to recall what the junior disciples had told him. A spike of terror shot through his gut as he remembered something about them being toxic if eaten raw. He set Pilgrim on the ground and started examining him, but the mouse didn’t seem any worse for wear, aside from a bit of sheepish nausea. He tucked Pilgrim away in his mane, promising him food when they returned and started pawing at the soggy petals on the ground.

Either Pilgrim had an extremely impressive constitution, or he was very lucky. The disciples had warned Anzan profusely about the dangers of even a few leaves or petals—and that was to a creature as large as himself! So, given the potency of the herbs, he couldn’t imagine the little mouse could survive any at all. But as he looked at the half-eaten petals closer, he realized that something was off about their color. They seemed different compared to the ones in his memory.

He checked some of the intact flowers, and sure enough, they were discolored. Anzan checked all around, but no matter where he looked, every herb and flower had lost its luster. He puzzled over whether the change was recent or if he’d ignored them out of complacency. While Anzan was lost in thought, he was struck by a heavy blast.

He staggered, his ears ringing. He looked around, but he couldn’t find what hit him or where it had come from. Everything was shaky. His hearing came back in a heavy drone. Then there was a sudden shattering sound, and he looked up.

Ethereal cracks spidered all through the air, originating from a massive clear fissure. Anzan stared in awe, and for the first time in countless years, he saw clear sky and open lands stretching out before him. The boundary seal was broken.