The Student (there can be no masters) just sat atop the wall. As a true bodhisattva, he had attained satori many times; yet chose to retain connection to the realms of duality and physicality, to aid others to enlightenment. Ones such as her. As he just sat and watched the pupils ascent, he was also the coming storm, and the wall.
The rope continued to snake upward, though no mechanism was apparent but The Student. In anticipation of monkey mind he severed his connection with infinity and returned to the duality of human mind. He did this by allowing a brief memory to affect his attention.
The Student's memory was of the rising pupil. Terrible. Always leaping around as though on ADD meds. Flying high kicks here, flicking paper stars over there. Constant noise. At least fourteen dead servants, replaced by ten times as many robots, all quickly decommissioned.
The fish she caught with her bare hands in the atoll, she brought back uncleaned, still flopping, only to descale and gut them on the communal breakfast table. The other pupils, young as they were, either ewwed at the guts or admired the grossness (all based on typical gender stereotypes, even inside the wall on the other side of the world). It never appeared to be malice or intent. She simply enjoyed the unscheduled disassembly of objects and life.
As she grew older, no signs of compassion were apparent. That she was Shiva as avatar, indeed the matted hair and blue throat, would be unquestioned--were she to show any hint of transformation. Of paradox, hers was the lack thereof.
With a subtle inhalation, The Student exited time to confer. Is this the only option? He asked. We must know, and soon. She grows stronger daily, but this challenge should exceed her limits. It is unfortunate to sacrifice one as this, but the alternative, that she survives and thus proves our suspicions, is too terrible for this Cycle to face. It is an End.
An exhalation and time resumed. The rope continued to snake upwards through air, bearing the Last Pupil.
Word is: Apple.