When Aksai lifted the brush, the boy was yanked towards it like a magnet, his small form clinging to the brush's other end.
"Let me go!" the boy screamed, his voice rising in pitch.
But as he tried to free himself, a sudden wave of memories crashed into his mind. He winced in pain, clutching his head as fragments of his original life as Mao flooded back to him. The boy's eyes widened in shock and realization.
"You... you're the one who killed me," he whispered, staring at Aksai with a mixture of fear and recognition. "What have you done to me? Why am I... like this?"
Aksai's expression remained calm, almost amused.
"You were clever, Mao, but not clever enough. You wanted to implant your consciousness in me, to take over my body slowly. But now, you're just the spirit of a talisman brush. Your own techniques turned against you."
Sometimes we can only find our true direction when we let the wind of change carry us.