It was all foreign and strange to the boy, though he had been doing his best to learn their ways, the gods they revered. He had practiced the hymn so that, in theory, he could pass through their Field of Reeds. His voice had joined those of those around him, and even though it was all foreign to him, Xingyu felt as if a spell was being cast over him. His breathing slowed, his heart slowed, he felt apart from his body, he felt at one with everything, and then he was back, thrust into mortal flesh.

Xingyu opened his silver eyes slowly. He seemed disoriented as his head lifted from the strange land, strange smells. The strange feeling remained inside of his chest, spreading outward through his limbs, vestiges of feeling detached from his form. Time… Images… His gaze was as faraway as his mind.

He flexed his paws, then looked to the young princess—Goddess. She seemed alright—voice joined in a new hymn. Their strange, hooved guard, Nahktmin, also seemed well, and of course, the Divine Ones. A few others also seemed to be stirring.

Slowly, Xingyu stood and shook out his white fur.