The towering gates of the Sect of Immortalities loomed like a goth theme park with a vendetta against sunlight. Eternal life and endless power were promised for the price of constant existential dread. Elara, clutching a pamphlet titled "Embrace Your Mortality to Transcend It," had envisioned serene moonlit gardens, not this grim fortress where the welcoming committee seemed ready to collect life insurance.
Her initial reaction to morning training was a full-body shudder, and a quick glance around revealed that some disciples had already achieved a level of "inner peace" that strongly resembled rigor mortis. Elara, a planner, believed the pamphlet’s "Inner Harmony through Focused Fear" offered a loophole – avoid danger through fear.
Her first task: gather "Spirit Bloom" from a field where Elder Gaunt warned, "The Whispering Vipers are feeling particularly chatty." Whispering Vipers? Venomous? Constricting? Elara froze, mind racing. Hours were spent examining each leaf with a stick. A nearby disciple, returning quickly with a full basket, looked perplexed. "You alright, newbie? They mostly just hiss if you step on them."
Elara’s internal monologue was a frantic kazoo solo of terror. Hiss a bit? Mostly? Viper convention? Their herb quest became a life-or-death survey. After a number of questionable choices, one perfect Spirit Bloom was finally plucked as the sun climbed high.
“It’s manageable,” Elara muttered, trotting out affirmations. “Fear is just a state of mind. I am vaguely connected to the universe.” It made her feel a little better.
Then a bloodcurdling scream. An errant disciple, perhaps mistaking a Death Blossom for a Spirit Bloom, plucked the wrong flower. It immediately emitted a high-pitched shriek, attracting the attention of nearby agitated snakes that swiftly descended upon him. Elara’s single Spirit Bloom felt inadequate.
She promptly stopped feeling better.
During the midday break, Elara cautiously approached a group of disciples huddled around a cauldron that smelled vaguely of burnt rubber and desperation. "Excuse me," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "but are the Nourishing Pills generally considered reliably non-lethal?"
A burly disciple with a scar across his nose that looked like it had been acquired during a particularly aggressive game of blind man's bluff chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.
"Reliably non-lethal? Ha! Kid, in the Sect of Immortalities, the only reliable thing is that nothing is reliable. Take these pills, for instance. Fifty-fifty shot, I reckon. Either you'll feel a surge of power that'll have you cracking rocks with your pinky, or, well, let's just say the undertaker keeps a close eye on pill-taking sessions. That's the way of things here, and out there in the world too, if you haven't noticed. Nothing's guaranteed."
He gestured around the chaotic training grounds with a calloused hand. "This sect ain't about finding a comfy, predictable path to forever. It's about understanding that life, just like our training, throws death at you from every direction."
"The fear? That's your survival instinct screaming. We don't ignore it; we learn to dance with it. Feel the fear in your bones, acknowledge the uncertainty of it all, and then? Then you push through. That's how you find the meaning in an endless life – by knowing how easily it can be snatched away. So, go on. Take a pill. What's the worst that could happen?" He grinned, a flash of something that might have been genuine amusement, or perhaps just a hint of manic glee.
Somewhat convinced, Elara took the pill with a little less apprehension. First of all, it didn't carry the weight of something that could be swallowed, the minty sweet taste was a surprise, as well as the evil spirit that tried to possess her soul as she tasted the mint. The pill, despite its promising minty flavor and the pamphlet’s assurances of heavenly energy, mostly resulted in a brief but intense staring contest with a shadowy entity that seemed intent on redecorating Elara’s soul. The promised Qi boost was, understandably, a secondary concern.
Afternoon meditation with Elder Growly was less about gentle humming and more about confronting the raw, primal scream of your own mortality. He’d bellowed, his voice vibrating the very stones, "Find the stillness within the storm of your fear! For it is in that razor's edge between life and death that true awareness blossoms! All else fades when the abyss stares back!"
Elara, already teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack with each forced, shuddering breath, was finding this "peace" elusive.
Then, the ground decided to illustrate Elder Growly's point with a vengeance. A violent tremor ripped through the training grounds, sending loose rocks tumbling and disciples scattering like startled chickens. Yelps of pure terror filled the air as everyone scrambled for purchase.
But Elara, ironically, froze. Her breath hitched.
In that single, terrifying instant, the vipers, the exploding orbs, even Grok's oversized sword vanished from her mental landscape. There was only the immediate, visceral threat of the earth tearing itself apart beneath her feet. And in that petrified stillness, something shifted. The fear, instead of its usual paralyzing grip, coalesced into a single, sharp point of focus. A raw, potent energy surged through her, terrifying yet undeniably exhilarating. It was the purest form of being present, where every other worry, every abstract fear of the future, simply ceased to exist.
The next conscious moment found Elara in her spartan room, the residual energy of that focused fear still thrumming beneath her skin. For every near-death encounter, elaborate contingency plans weren't just theoretical exercises; they were the lessons learned in the crucible of the present. A sudden viper attack? The memory of its hissing spurred the frantic mental search for the quickest tree. A rogue exploding pill? The image of the swarming snakes fueled the visualization of a desperate, last-second dodge.
She began sketching out the framework for her magnum opus: "Elara's Comprehensive and Absolutely Foolproof Guide to Surviving the Sect of Immortalities (and Maybe Achieving Immortality Because You're Too Busy Not Dying to Actually Die)." The flowcharts weren't about probabilities anymore; they were about the immediate choices needed in the face of imminent peril. The risk assessments weren't abstract numbers; they were the real, heart-stopping moments of the day. The escape plans weren't fantasies; they were the desperate maneuvers that had kept her breathing.
The terror hadn't vanished, but it had become a razor-sharp focus on the immediate. No safe path to immortality was found, but the path to surviving this moment, forged in fear, was becoming clear. In the face of immediate annihilation, all else faded. The fear of future death was meaningless against the need to survive now. And in that constant, unwavering focus on the present, on the very act of not dying, lay the sect's twisted immortality.
Still acutely aware of every potential threat, Elara blew out the flickering candle. The chaotic terrors of her first day hadn't faded, they had distilled into a singular, present awareness. Tomorrow would bring more fear, and she wasn't ready for the specifics, but she understood the game now. Tonight, Elara didn't just fall asleep; she embraced the present, the only moment where death held no sway.
I Want to Be Immortal But I Am Afraid of Death
