EPISODE 16: The Monk
In the year 604, in the Zhangzhung kingdom, on the edge of the Tibetan plateau, peace reigned gently across the farmlands and quiet towns. But beneath the serene veneer, darkness crept. A moon-whisperer named Zhi Na, part of an ancient tribe of shapeshifting Nyalmo, Or what we in the west, now refer to as Yetis -- was on a blood-thirsty rampage.
Nyalmo’s were humans who tread the fine line back and forth between the natural and supernatural. Able to harness elemental powers connected to the pulse of the Earth, creating a purer form of magic than nearly any other in the universe. Her tribe were sworn protectors of the surrounding villages, and hunters of things that stalked the darkness
But Zhi Na, being a shaman in her human form, was performing a complicated fire ritual one night, and she drank a dangerous and corrupted substance called bloodsoil. Consuming the compound left her vulnerable to be possessed by a demonic spirit.
Her mind twisted, her body infected with evil. Turning into her beastly form, she wandered down from the hills, stalking, killing, and feeding on the people from the very farms and settlements she swore to defend. Her nighttime raids would sow chaos, as she’d remain a creature, becoming a horror haunting the countryside.
The province had no formal military presence. So justice, mostly consisting of territorial or livestock disputes, fell upon the benevolent ears of the monks who resided in a nearby Shaolin Monastery.
But when Zhi Na’s spree of terror overwhelmed the villagers, they looked to the Bhante for help...though pacifist by creed, the monks were trained in the ways of kung fu decades before by the legendary Bodhidharma. All were highly skilled fighters harmonizing body and spirit with their physical existence.
But the monks were no match for a blood-thirsty Nyalmo possessed by a demon. They suffered heavy casualties...but in the defeat, a young monk named Heng Shao, discerned the demonic influence.
Heng, only 27 at the time, was revered at the monastery for his deep wisdom and enhanced perspective. He’d traveled the world in his youth, studying religion, mysticism, and human nature in Eastern Europe, and North Africa, before choosing a life of disciplined solitude amongst the monks. But he also was gifted with supernatural abilities at birth, something called movement transcendence or motion magic, able to distort the flow of time around him, to move quickly, nearly unseen.
Heng Shao lures Zhi Na out, in her Nyalmo form - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
From his travels, Heng was also well-versed in enough of the old legends and lore he devised a plan to defeat the demon. Offering himself as bait to Zhi Na, as she closed in to seize her prey, he unleashed a fast offensive, moving like the wind...stunning her, she reverted to her human form long enough for Heng to lure the demon out. Then, Heng dropped to his knees and recited an ancient Hero Prayer.
Riding a mighty bolt of lightning from the sky, cloaked in storm, the paladin, Kharos, appeared. Broad beyond mortal reckoning. Mantled in a dark raiment that shimmered like the molten sun. In his grasp was a blade not of iron nor of any earthly forge, but a living flame, shifting as water, yet fierce as a temple’s great bell when struck in anger. With but a single stroke by Kharos, swift as the bolt he rode in on, the demon was unmade -- scattered like shadow before the rising sun.
And before vanishing, the immortal one turned and whispered in the young monk’s ear, then he was gone. That moment changed Heng forever as he later discovered the paladin’s words made him Eternal.
He remained in the monastery, becoming a fixture, a quiet legend through the centuries. Word spread. Scholars, historians, theologians, even kings sought him out. Asking him of the Hero, and of what was whispered, but Heng refused, going so far as to take a vow of silence that would last enough lifetimes for him to be forgotten. But remaining outwardly taciturn, Heng developed a telepathy, communicating only with those close, through his mind.
The year, 1901. Gérard Roux and Broderick Zayne were on a mission. Two outcast, both many centuries old. The French Crusader, and the religious alchemist, headed East. Roux carried his age with a soldier’s ease, but for Zayne having spent all that time in the Abyss, then sequestered in the bowels of the Vatican to train with Roux, life still seemed hard to reconcile. He remembered a world that only moved as fast as a horse could run. But now hurled itself forward on rails, steam, and oil.
But no matter how quick things felt, the journey would still take months...Roux encouraged Zayne to try and see the world through a different lens. Becoming an Eternal, he’d been bestowed a gift. Able to take time unlike others and watch life unfold through antique eyes. And so, with time on his hands, Zayne wrote of his journey...
ZAYNE: We boarded a steamer bound for Alexandria. The smoke of its stack rolled black over the harbor, and the decks throbbed with an unnatural heartbeat. There are too many people for my taste. Gérard calls the ship a “triumph of industry.” I find it ugly, but swift. Perhaps that is enough.
Zayne’s Sketchbook “El Kahira” - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
ZAYNE: The city is a crush of languages and odors...spice and salt, camel dung and incense. It’s hard to bear. We take the train to Port Said, boarding a ship that passes through the Suez Canal. I watch the desert slide by in narrow bands of yellow and ochre, the horizon unbroken save for the wind’s restless ghosts. It’s bloody hot, even at night.
Zayne’s Sketchbook “View of Port Said” - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
ZAYNE: The crossing to Bombay has been a trial. Storms everyday, and the air so thick with heat it’s felt like breathing stagnant water. Gérard regaled me with stories of the Crusades to pass the time. Though he’s experience pain and hardship through battles, it seems pale beside my time in the Abyss...but he means well.
Zayne’s Sketchbook “Gérard watching the rain” - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
ZAYNE: Calcutta...Here the air is sweeter. India has grown since I last stepped foot. It’s railways snake across the landscape, its cities hum with British ambition. Yet I feel watched, despised, perhaps the Book left more marks than I knew. We turn north toward Darjeeling, climbing from the steaming plains into mist-wrapped hills. Thank the Lord.
Zayne’s Sketchbook “Misty hills” - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
ZAYNE: The mountains rise like the walls of Heaven, peaks gleaming in the sun. Gérard speaks with traders who can guide us towards Tibet, foreigners aren’t welcomed there, but gold is.
Zayne’s Sketchbook “Majesty of the Himalayas” - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
ZAYNE: We travel now on foot and by yak, the air thinning, enough to kill the untrained. And while my breath grows ragged, my body is unwilling to die. Still, I feel the weight of these heights. Nights are cold as the grave. My dreams more vivid here. Seeing the man in the field, the sky raining blood. A curse like those in the Order of Wormwood. But in the dream I hear the man utter a word “Spellbinder”. What that means, I haven’t a clue. Gérard isn’t familiar with the term either.
Zayne’s Sketchbook “Who is the Spellbinder?” - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
ZAYNE: We find the Monastery at last, perched upon a cliff as if clinging to the edge of the world. The monks welcomed us. The one we’re here to meet, Heng Shao, though Gérard spoke of him as an old man, he appears much younger than either of us. Eyes like melted gold, small in stature. He doesn’t speak words, but I feel a strangeness around him, as I can hear him in my mind, conversing in open ended thoughts. He tells me I’m here to train to fight...someone should inform him Englishmen are known for their brains, not braun. I have a feeling I’m going to hate it here.
Zayne’s Sketchbook “The Monastery at last” - © 2025 Headless Horseman Productions, LLC
TO BE CONTINUED…