#making his hair and robe sent me straight to frustration and despair

[kasha-malasha]

finally did a close, intimate friend for my little crochet boy

[cursed-ice-spirits]

You ever wonder how Duncan Ashe died? And what happened that night? You’re about to find out. Special thanks to @angrynar for teaming up with me for the @hphmbang2020! Hope you guys enjoy <3

Late. It was very late. It had been hours since he last rested and he wasn’t even remotely done. Duncan Ashe groaned and peeled his face off his book, feeling a sharp crack as he etched his head to the left. Rubbing at the dull ache that shot from his neck to his shoulder and fingertips, Duncan squinted at the spinning words in his notes, trying to force himself to stay awake. His head seemed to pound.

There was no time to rest.

He needed this done, and an Erumpent potion required all his attention.

The door suddenly opened with a loud creak, sending light into the room. Duncan lunged for his wand, grasping it around the handle and whirling around to face the intruder, but relaxed when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

“Jacob,” he said, breathing a breath of relief, lowering his wand. “Did someone follow you?”

The other boy shook his head, pursing his lips as he pushed into the room. “Snape almost did,” he admitted, looking just as exhausted as he felt. “Managed to get him off my tail, though.” Jacob shrugged off his bag and tossed it aside, ignoring his friend’s half hearted glare when it was thrown haphazardly against the table. Gripping the back of the chair, he leaned over Duncan’s shoulder, squinting at his notes. “Your handwriting is shit,” he muttered. “How’s the potion going along?”

“Not as bad as yours.” Duncan eyed the cauldron sitting against the wall. “It’s doing fine, at least I hope it is. It has to settle for…” he glanced over his notes. “Twenty more minutes. Then I’ll have to…” He trailed off when he saw the way Jacob’s face flickered with guilt. “Jacob, what’s going on?”

Jacob rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the wall for a moment, then heaved out a sigh and reached into his robes, withdrawing a note. “I’ve gotten word from R,” he said tiredly, sliding it over. “They, well, it’ll be better if you read this yourself.”

Narrowing his eyes, Duncan slowly took hold of the note and drew it closer to him. As he continued to read the note, a deep anger started curling inside his gut, rolling down his throat like red hot lava, until he was throwing the note aside and pushing himself out of his seat. He turned slightly to search through his bag. “Tell them fuck no.”

“Duncan—”

“Don’t ‘Duncan’ me!” He snapped, turning sharply. “Do they not understand an Erumpent potion? A potion containing the parts of an Erumpent requires you to be delicate and patient, and rushing it will cause it to backfire and then we’ll have to start all over again! Tell them no!”

“I already told you several times before,” Jacob said, heaving out a heavy sigh. He pushed his hair out of his face, looking exhausted. “I can’t.”

This again…. he wanted to shake him. Why can’t he give clear answers for once?

“Why not?”

“You know why!” Jacob tugged at his hair and turned away, starting to pace. “They have resources. If we pull out now, we’ll trip over ourselves and we’ll never get what we need!”

Duncan stared at him for a moment, clenching his jaw. “Do we really need the treasure from the Cursed Vaults?”

“What kind of question is that?” Jacob stopped pacing and whirled around, staring straight at him, disbelief clear in his eyes. “They want it! We want it! Of course we do! Isn’t that what we agreed on when we started this?”

“Yes, but I can’t continue! We’re risking our lives for R!” Duncan snapped. “They’re asking for the impossible! I can’t brew this potion by tonight! I know we agreed to search the Vaults together but… come on, this is too far. I can’t do this anymore — even I know when to back away.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Jacob’s gaze wavered. “So you’re just gonna leave me alone in this?”

Duncan’s throat closed up. “N-No that’s not what I’m saying at all. Don’t twist my words and stop manipulating me — I’m saying this is too much—“

“I’m not!” Jacob roared, slamming his fist on the table. “I thought we agreed we were in this together! I thought we agreed to find whatever’s in the Vaults together! We can’t just… stop. Not now…”

“Yes we can! And I’m saying we’re gonna end this together!” Duncan stepped forward, gripping Jacob’s shoulders, desperation at his throat. “Come on, Jacob, once they have no use for us, they’ll throw us away and leave us to rot. They don’t care about us. We’re nothing but tools. We’ll die if we continue. Are you willing to risk that?”

Jacob worked his jaw furiously and glanced away, something dark and cold coming over his face, something that sent shivers down his spine. Duncan’s throat dropped to his stomach. He can’t possibly…

“Come on, Jacob… say no. Come on, you can’t seriously be willing to risk that for the Vaults, come on…”

Jacob placed his hands on Duncan’s own…. and pulled them away. “I’m sorry, Duncan, but I have to do this, regardless if you’re in or not.”

Duncan gritted his teeth, tears of frustration forming in his eyes. No matter what he says or does to convince him to back out, he can never get to him. Every word he throws at his face is being hit against a brick wall.

He can’t get to him.

He opened his mouth. He could say no. He could tell him he wants no part of this anymore. He could tell him he’s out. He could leave and he could stay out of this damn mess, because there was no way he was going to convince Jacob not to go after the Vaults. He knows who’s possible to be saved out of a situation and who’s completely hopeless.

Jacob’s hopeless, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

But looking at him now…. Duncan faltered. No. No, he can’t say no. He can’t leave Jacob alone in this. He can’t let R do whatever they want with him now that he’s gone and out of the way.

He can’t. He cares about him way too much to leave him alone with R. If he leaves now… if he leaves him around… he’ll do something stupid, something that he can’t wiggle out of.

He can’t let that happen, no matter how stupid Jacob is. He can’t lose Jacob like they lost Olivia.

Duncan rubbed his thumb against the corner of his eyes and turned away. “You’re impossible. Fine, I’ll brew the dumb potion.”

Jacob blinked, the coldness disappearing. He looked dumbfounded. He didn’t blame him. Hope and relief lit up his face, and it hurt. “You… You will?”

Duncan huffed and folded his arms. “I’m not leaving you alone in this, am I? Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Slowly, Jacob’s face split into a grin, before he threw his arms over him. “I knew you’d come to your senses! I’ll go prepare for tonight. I’ll come back in a couple of hours, alright? Remember to have this finished tonight. See you then!”

Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing tears away as he hugged back briefly, before pulling away. “Yeah yeah, Whatever. Just do your thing. I’ll try my best to finish.” He paused for a moment, before insisting, “I promise.”

“See you in a few hours.”

Arms pulled away from his shoulders. Jacob lifted his bag from the table and headed off. As footsteps slowly walked out of the room, Duncan shook his head and sank into his seat, staring at his notes in despair.

There will always be something he’ll always do for him no matter what, huh? Gritting his teeth, Duncan dashed his hand across his eyes and made for the cauldron, slipping on his dragonhide gloves again.

The time was up anyway. He’ll have to finish this. Maybe it’s impossible to finish this potion by tonight, but if he pulls every trick he knows about potions...

He’ll finish it. Somehow. But he will.

He promised after all.

-

Hours pass by. A thick haze clouded his mind as his hands moved automatically. Adding ingredients, chopping them up, crushing them, measuring out the proper measurements, turning up the heat and waiting.

He lost how much time passed by.

Add 5 slices of an erumpent tail. Stir until it's dissolved. Wait. Etc…

Grind the horn into fine powder. Crush it with the knife. It’ll be easier. Measure it. Add it into the potion. Stir. Let it boil for maybe 30 minutes. Etc…

It goes on and on. Duncan’s eyes were starting to sting, and sweat drenched his brow as he turned up the heat just a little bit more, using far too many shortcuts to save time in order for it to be finished by tonight. Is it dangerous? Yes. Is it risky? Yes. But it needed to be done by the time they got to the Vault.

Duncan pushed his hair out of his face and wiped sweat off his forehead, taking a moment to himself to just breathe, rubbing aching and trembling fingers. He’s just so tired. Tired from so many sleepless nights, tired from being worked to the bone, but he promised. Swore to Jacob’s face he promised to finish the potion by tonight, and he always stuck by promises, no matter what, or how crazy it is.

Onto the last step. Duncan levitated a small vial full of yellow liquid out of his pack. It looked small, harmless, but it was the fluid that allowed an Erumpent horn to explode. One wrong move and it’s over.

Taking a deep breath, he shakingly let it out as he carefully opened the vial.

The last step: Add 10 drops of Exploding Fluid. Measure 5mg. There should be a black ring of smoke hovering over the cauldron for each drop. The liquid should bubble. This is because of the explosive fluid mixing with the potion. Wait until the smoke clears to add the next drop. Boil at 82 degrees for an hour. The potion should turn yellow.

This is… the most critical step. Exploding Fluid is something to be handled carefully. No shortcuts.

Holding a hand to the vial, Duncan carefully tipped the vial over, and watched the first drop roll out of the vial and down into the unfinished potion.

As it dropped into the potion, a ring of black smoke rose, circling over the cauldron. The liquid itself was starting to bubble, not gently, but not too violently for it to be worrisome. Duncan swallowed and set the vial down.

Now to wait.

Slowly and before his eyes, the black smoke started to disperse and rose to the ceiling, particles slowly disappearing into the air. Duncan leaned over, gripping his wrist with his other hand to add the next drop, and leaned back as the black smoke started to form again. Rinse and repeat. His hand was starting to shake and ache from working for so long. But he was so close to finishing… he can’t stop now… he promised...

It was at the fifth drop that things… went wrong. He didn’t know what went wrong. Maybe he made a mistake or two earlier and it just acted now. Maybe he wasn’t careful enough. But it did.

And it went so horribly wrong.

As Duncan added the fifth drop, the mixture suddenly turned black and fizzled violently, the liquid sloshing inside the cauldron and expanding. Pausing, he carefully set the vial down and leaned away, watching the mixture warily. By the time he realized what was happening, he only had a few seconds to dive for the table before the cauldron exploded into a literal ball of fire.

The blast exploded through the air, followed by flames, sending him crashing hard against the wall. Heat seared through his clothes as flames licked at his heels, rubble crumbling from the walls, large chunks spilling out as the flames quickly started spreading. Duncan’s gasps of pain became swallowed by smoke, ash, and soot, even as he shoved his hand to his mouth and coughed harshly, spitting and sputtering.

His ears were ringing. His chest burned with agony. Duncan crawled out from the walls of flames, doubling over in fits of coughs, eyes watering, trying to fix his vision on the door...

He had to get out. Get out…

Jacob.

Jacob.

Shouting wavered slowly through his ears outside. They hurt, but he knew help was out there. Duncan gripped his burning fingers on the ridges of the floor and dragged himself up, wrapping one arm around his burning, burning torso. Too much smoke. Too much pain. It burns. Everything hurts. He can’t breathe. He’s not gonna make it—

He’s not gonna make it.

He’s gonna die. Everything is over. He didn’t even graduate yet. He didn’t even get a chance to spend a normal life with Jacob and having fun without having to worry about stupid Cursed Vaults trying to take over their lives and now Jacob is gonna be all alone with stupid R and stupid Rakepick and stupid Dumbledore—

As he made his way to the door, flames licking at his sides and sending burns that stung as they made contact with the rubble scattered along the floor, he parted chapped lips to call for help, but the resulting noise ended up in coughing fits and wheezing breaths that rocked against his ribcage. He doubled over, curling into a ball, pain wrecking his body.

He’s not gonna make it.

He slumped against the floor, too weak to continue his journey to the door, his vision blurring at the edges. Someone was shouting orders outside. Dumbledore? Snape? He‘ll never know.

Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, smoke filling his lungs, as he took his last breath just as the door banged open hard enough to smash against the door and bounce back, voices shouting.

I’m sorry, Jacob.

-

“What do you mean something happened with Duncan!?”

Professor McGonagall hesitated. He should have taken that as a bad sign. She never hesitated. “There appears,” she said slowly, “to be… an incident, with Mr Ashe.”

“What kind of incident?” Jacob stressed, fixing the Transfiguration Professor with a look of dismay. “What happened, Professor?”

McGonagall gave him a mournful look. A look that burned into his eyes. “...it’ll be best if you see for yourself,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him to the direction of where he last left Duncan.

“I don’t understand… why can’t you explain it now?!”

“His… condition is very delicate. Please understand…”

Her voice turned to white noise. The longer they walked, the more fear started building up in his gut, hands shaking as his fingers dug into his palms, until he finally tore himself from McGonagall’s grip and raced up ahead.

He saw it before it came.

Students surrounded the outside of the room, smoke pooling up into pillars to the ceiling. The teachers were right in the middle, arguing as Snape and Pomfrey disappeared inside the room to search for something. Or… someone.

Realization dawned on him.

No…

He’s not…

It can’t be…

They went too far. He pushed him too far.

Jacob surged forward, tearing across the floor to the crowd.

He should have known, Duncan always keeps his promises no matter what, he should have never took advantage of that and now—

“Out of the way!”

He shoved someone carelessly aside and pushed past the crowd, ignoring the startled yells after him and students trying to stop him. He didn’t care. He needed to get to Duncan.

“DUNCAN!!”

He pushed past the last student and forced his way to the door and… stopped.

An explosion had completely wrecked the room. The door was wide open, revealing the damage done. The cauldron Duncan used for the Erumpent Potion had its top blown clean off, and it laid discarded against the wall, completely destroyed and unusable. The table had been blown into pieces, charred pieces laying about, drenched with water (possibly from Aguamenti), embers flickering weakly in the wreck. Soot covered the walls, and large chunks of rubble were scattered inside and outside the room. Dust filled the air.

He wasn’t focused on any of that.

He was focused on the boy being carried out in the arms of Snape and Pomfrey.

Duncan Ashe laid limp, burnt robes in tatters around him and eyes squeezed shut, an arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Burns littered his body from what Jacob could see, blistering red. Sweat and water drenched his face, smearing the soot over his cheeks and uncovering his skin. Ash and spot drifted through his hair, and his skin was colored a gray pallor.

Jacob surged forward.

“DUNCAN!!”

Hands gripped around his injured friend and pulled him out of the Potions Professor and Matron’s reach. Snape opened his mouth, a look of anger flickering over his face as he looked down at Jacob, before Pomfrey put a hand to his arm with tears in her eyes, shook her head, and led him away.

Where he didn’t know, nor cared.

He was focused on his friend.

Jacob wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him closer, using his other hand to shake him, desperation wrapping its arms around his throat and strangling him.

“Duncan…. Duncan!... Duncan, wake up… wake up please…”

Duncan’s head rolled back and forth, chapped lips gaping slightly. Jacob gritted his teeth, twisting his fist into his burnt robes. His vision started to blur from tears.

“Duncan please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I should have listened! Come on, wake up so Pomfrey can heal you up and we can quit together — come on, wake up, this isn’t funny!!”

Still no answer. He reached out a trembling hand and wiped away some of the soot on his face. It smeared his fingers and colored them black. He didn’t care.

“Duncan!!”

No answer. Why wasn’t he answering him?! He pressed his forehead against Duncan’s, tears rolling down his face as he gritted his teeth, a small cry of pain escaping. He couldn’t feel his breath against his face. He wasn’t breathing. He moved to press his head against his chest.

He didn’t have a heartbeat.

He wasn’t waking up.

There was a dull roaring in his ears as he pulled away and looked down at his friend. Duncan laid limp as always, a look of pain etched permanently on his face. Tears rolled down his face. Numbness seemed to take over.

Duncan Ashe is dead.

Duncan, I’m sorry.

He was unaware of the ghost figure that watched as McGonagall gently pulled Jacob away to let Madam Pomfrey treat the young Slytherin, only for her to give a shake of her head seconds later, a shadow of sadness crossing her face, nor did he see the look of anger on the ghost’s face as he put the blame on himself.

The ghost turned away.

Duncan Ashe is dead.

[lolmouseywritings]

Cursed Child

So this is what happens when I move, have no internet access to my computer, draw mdzs and watch Paper Dolls 2 gameplay from CJU on my phone. 

I will now go back to writing the WenWuxian Au. I’ve been working on.

I hope you enjoy this, and if you’re confused, ask away. 

P.S. I wrote this to get it out of my system. First time writing a horror story.

This will be on AO3, I also added the keep reading line

dabaizi: I think this mean brother-in-law. If I’m wrong, please let me know the correct title. I was trying to be accurate.

Summary: Lan Sizhui just wanted to run away. He didn’t realize it would drag him into a curse filled history of Gusu Manor. Running from fierce corpse’s, the ghost general and Yiling Patriarch, he could only hope he can get out of this alive.

Lan Sizhui sighed, his breath fogging up the glass window. He wasn't interested in the passing background, but it was something that got his mind off, as his cousin chastised him.

"Seriously? I know that I run away a lot, but I wasn't expecting you to do it," chastised Jin Ling tugging up his jacket. The chilly air from the mountains of Gusu was unexpected, but it was the place that Sizhui wanted to go.

Twelve years ago his parents passed away unexpectantly from the accident and he was taken in by his A-die and senior. It was fine, he guessed, but in the short while, his senior's health was failing. He was notorious for sleeping in late, but it was apparent that he had trouble getting up. Then he had trouble eating. He wouldn't even drink his favorite wine. Then one day-

He didn't wake up.

A-die didn't fare well, and now he hardly moved from Senior's side.

People called him cursed.

"Come on Jin Ling, no need to be upset, he just needed some space. Right Sizhui?"

"Yeah just ignore little mistress. He was just, if not, more worried than he let on." Then there goes. Jingyi was always riling up Jin Ling. It was a mystery to how they stayed being friends.

"Shut up, you- ZIZHEN! WATCH OUT!" Without question Zizhen swerves, hitting a tree branch and stopping the vehicle.

The boys step out, zipping up their jackets, and look around.

"Hey what the hell was that?" Questioned Jingyi looking straight at Jin Ling.

"There was a deer out on the road."

"There wasn't!"

"There was!" Ignoring the argument, Sizhui looks around and groans in despair. 'Damn the tire is out.' He looks at his phone and wonders just how cursed he is.

"My phone is out, is anyone else's phone working?" Asked Sizhui as the entire group shook their heads. All phones were out of service.

"Dammit! Uncle will break my legs!" Sizhui  patted Jin Lings back.

"It's okay.” Jin Ling shakes it off and glares at him. His stance aggressive.

"You don't get to say that, when you packed up and left. I know shit's hard for you, but it's hard on everyone else too."

"Calm down," Zizhen starts. "I'm sure none of us want to be in this situation. Best bet is to go to the nearest town and call for a tow. We can also call our families and let them know where we are."

"The nearest town is Moling. It will take us at least 2 hours to walk! And it's cold and I know that none of us want to walk for that long!" Gripped Jin Ling. Sizhui and Zhizhen shared glances, thinking little mistress.

"HEY I SEE SMOKE!" Exclaimed Jingyi. The group looks up to see what looks like a dilapidated manor. They agree to separate in groups of two. Zizhen and Jingyi at the car and Sizhui and Jin Ling to walk up to the manor and see if they could make a call. Sizhui would have honestly preferred Zizhen or Jingyi. Jin Ling, however, wasn't about to let him out of his sight. He was way too much like his uncle than he cared to admit.

Not a surprised considering how close the Jiang/Wei siblings are. Walking up the mountain was a tiring endeavor as the steps seemed to never end. It was worth it once they reached the entrance until they realized that no one lived in the house.

"I guess the smoke was just our imagination?" Remarked Sizhui.

"So the four of us imagined smoke coming out of this place." Jin Ling rolls his eyes. A nervous laughter escapes Sizhui at Jin Ling's rebuttal. With a sigh, Jin Ling walks up and knocks on the door. The icy breeze passes by, causing both boys to shiver. The door opens with a creek.

With a hesitant step, Jin Ling goes in.

"Hello?" His voice echoes into the manor. Not waiting for Sizhui, he walks in.

"Wait Jin Ling." He walks up the steps ready to follow his friend. As he steps in, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Or it would have if he didn't feel a sharp pain at the back of his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You promised me!" "W̷̧̎͌̿͌͋̀́ë̵̟́̍̈́̚i̸̩̭̤̦̱̐-" "You promised me they would be okay! AND NOW THEY ARE DEAD!" "Please, listen!" "I'M DONE LISTENING! I'M DO-" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wake up. Junior master, wake up!" Sizhui groans, placing his hand to where his head felt a throb. He felt nothing wet, so that was wonderful news. There was a however a sizable bump on the back of his head.

"What happened?"

"Quick get up!" He looks up and notices that the voice he kept hearing was nowhere to be found.

"Where are you?"

"I'll tell you but you must leave the room or else-" He hears the heavy dragging of chains. It was his only warning before he hid into an old decorative closet. He held his breath as he took a peak thru the crack.

Pale skin, clumpy lumped black hair, poor posture and old tattered clothing. The chains were black, looked as heavy as they sounded, and covered in blood. 

Sizhui had to cover his mouth to hold back the bile as the heavy scent of iron, which he was certain was not only from the chains, filtered into the air. He waited as the groans and dragging chains disappeared into the next room. He gave himself some time to get out.

"Magnificent job," he heard the voice as he looked around to discover its origin. "Take the door on your left and walk down the hallway till you reach a door. It should take you outside. Walk down the path next to the pond until it leads you to a building surrounded by bamboo,  the Hanshi. Quickly!"

Without a word Sizhui follows the directions, eyes and ears peeled for anymore unearthly beings. Thank god he didn't have to take the door that- he shivered- thing took.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man sitting before him was wrapped in gold robes with a peony emblem in front. He held a certain charisma that it almost made Sizhui want to sit down and drink the tea that was sitting innocently on the table. Prepared just for him.

Guangyao, as he presented himself, had the smile that made Sizhui want to run in the opposite direction. Especially when he told him what was happening.

"What do you mean that I'm stuck here?"

"Hm, kids these days are hard of hearing, I guess." Upon looking Sizhui's face Guangyao sighed and refilled his cup. "I mean that until you can set the resentful spirits to rest, there's nothing you can do to escape. The Yiling Patriarch has us trapped here until you can vanquish him."

"And why can't you do it?"

"I tried and failed. Now the Patriarch has me trapped here for who knows how long." Sizhui let out a breath of frustration.

Great! He leaves his home because his life is falling apart, gets caught at the gas station by his friends, their tire blows out because of a random tree branch, even though Jin Ling claims it was a dee- wait!

"JIN LING! Where's my cousin Jin Ling!" Guangyao looks at him confused.

"Jin who?"

"My cousin! He was with me!"

"Ah well, it's possible that he’s lost in the manor as you, Sizhui-er. Though I would start looking. He may end up dead before the night is over."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sizhui cursed his luck for the umpteenth time. There were zombies in here, zombies that moved faster than what he would have liked them too, and some of them liked to explode! 

They sucked! 

They sucked so hard that- argh!!!! 

He hated them!

It didn't help that he met the chained zombie, a fierce corpse, as Guangyao like to call them. He saw him this time when he opened the door, thinking the room was clear, and chased him across the manor. He was lucky enough to find another closet to hide in. As soon as the creature left, Sizhui carefully climbed out and walked to another path.

Ok, so to recap he went to the library and found Elder Teacher's Scroll. It had spells for evocation, suppression, and rest. He didn't understand it much, but once he found the other items that he requested, he was sure Guangyao could help him. He placed the scroll in his back pocket, making sure it was secure.

There was still no sign of Jin Ling increasing his worry, as he hoped his cousin did not have to face those creatures.  He kept walking until he heard nothing. The crickets did not chirp and the sound of the wind was ominous. It had a haunting tune, one that spoke of longing-

"Is that a flute? No, it's a-". He looks up to see a man in a black robe, red trim sitting on the rooftop, a red ribbon holding back his hair. It was a black bamboo Dizi, the type that Senior would love to get his hands on and play. It looked like the man did not hear him until he opened his eyes, looking straight at him. They had a red glow to them that spoke of pain and suffering.

"Sen-"

"My, my, look what the mouse dragged in! Tell me, what did you do to get trapped in here?" The animosity in his voice forced Sizhui to recoil back. The laughter sent a frigid chill down his spine.

This wasn't, this wasn't-

"No matter, let's get rid of the pests, shall we, Hanguang-jun?" With a few notes from the Dizi, the room marked Jingshi bursts open and out popped a man dressed in a white robe as if he was in mourning, a white ribbon around his forehead and his long bangs covered his face.

Sizhui moved out of the way as the blade cut thru his jacket sleeve. The sting on his arm caused him to hiss. Run! He thought. He had to run so he could stay alive.

He ran to the path towards the classroom, but the man had an unnatural speed to him. He was upon him, but Sizhui did not plan to give up. He took another direction, and he was there. Another and he too was there. No matter what path he took, he was right in front of him.

Fleeing would not work, so he looked around and found an old rusted blade. He held up to block a strike from above and fell, feeling the shock to his very bones. Such a ferocious attack!

It didn't appear, as the man walked to him slowly carrying what looked like an air of serenity, but the movement and aggressiveness of his blade was monstrous. It betrayed the strength that this fierce corpse was capable of.

Sizhui couldn't even get up. It was stupid! He thought fighting that thing was his only choice to live, and now he regretted it.

He thought of the mischievous laughter and the stern but reassuring ‘Mn' from his guardians, his parents, as he closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Wen Qing, Wen Ning, it's okay! I'll give them the Stygian Tiger Seal and I'll go to Gusu. When I do that, they'll leave you and everyone else alone."

"Ẅ̵̧̨̠͇̦̩̹͕̰͉̥͔̪̯̱̙́̉̅͛́̅̎̔̎́̐́̔̃̃́̏̍͑̀̃͘̕͜ͅẻ̷̤̼̭̭͍̮̝͎̪̯͕͈͔̻͍͐͒̾̌͊̆̂̓̿̋̇̾͊̾̎̒̉̆͜͠į̴̛̤̩͕̙̗̥̠̦̬̙͈̗̟̖̆̽̃́͂̀̏̀͒̊̎̔̇̎̈̃̿͑̋̄̚͝ ̵̨̛̘̯͈̻̔͋͒̀͌̀̌́̌͋W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠, you know we can't accept this! You paid your debt! You took us out of the camp, you brought my brother back. Don't do this!" Ẅ̵̧̨̠͇̦̩̹͕̰͉̥͔̪̯̱̙́̉̅͛́̅̎̔̎́̐́̔̃̃́̏̍͑̀̃͘̕͜ͅẻ̷̤̼̭̭͍̮̝͎̪̯͕͈͔̻͍͐͒̾̌͊̆̂̓̿̋̇̾͊̾̎̒̉̆͜͠į̴̛̤̩͕̙̗̥̠̦̬̙͈̗̟̖̆̽̃́͂̀̏̀͒̊̎̔̇̎̈̃̿͑̋̄̚͝ ̵̨̛̘̯͈̻̔͋͒̀͌̀̌́̌͋W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠ shakes his head.

"They have to, besides my control isn't the same as before. It won't be long before they break through the seal. At least this way I can save-" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CLANG!

Sizhui opened his eyes as he saw that the blade, ready to strike him, wrapped in chains. The howl sent a shiver up his spine as the chain pulled back, sending Hanguang-jun back to fight the fierce corpse that followed him.

'I guess they're not friends!' He thought as he looked up and saw that the mysterious Dizi player gone.  Seeing an opening, Sizhui runs into the Jingshi and looks for the instrument, a Guqin. It sat on the table next to two white jars covered with a white cloth. From the smell of the fermentation, he could tell that taking a sip would burn his throat.

He shook his head. He had no time to think of such things and grabbed the instrument. It would be too heavy to lug this around and heads to the Hanshi.

He forced himself to forget that Senior looked like the man from the rooftop, along with the laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He told Guangyao all about the Hanguang-jun and the mysterious man from the roof.

"Great, he knows you are here. Look if you see them again just run. When Hanguang-jun died they already knew him as one of the top cultivators. As for the man you saw, well, the Yiling Patriarch is an entirely different beast on his own. His ability to cultivate resentful energy is how he can bring fierce corpse's to life." He sips from the tea, savors it, then sets it down.

"From what you told me the Ghost General-"

"Ghost General?" Sizhui receives a silent reprimand from him causing him to stop talking.

"It's rude to interrupt. The fierce corpse with the chains. They knew him as Wen Ning, the Ghost General of the Yiling Patriarch. Though I find it odd that they would be fighting. Maybe something happened?" Sizhui shrugs. Everything was going over his head. Really, the sensible thing would be to grab Jin Ling and run to the edge of the forest and find a way out.

Jin Ling was still missing, though, and Guangyao had no way of knowing where he might be. Plus, it wasn't as if he could leave the Hanshi. He’s stuck in this beautiful and dark room, a partition serving as a cutoff from the tea table and the bed.

He notices a figure sitting slouched forward.

"So you've noticed my roommate."

"Who is he?"

"The last Sect master of Gusu, Zewu-jun."

"He's alive!"

"Hardly. He’s also afflicted by the same curse as me." Before he could ask more Guangyao smiles at him. "It's best that you look for the next items on the list."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With supplies ready, given by Guangyao, and an old rusted sword he found, which he knew he was useless with, made Sizhui felt slightly braver. Hopefully, the talisman's would be helpful.

The Library Pavilion was tricky to get to. He knew something was following him and knowing what the denizens of this cursed place was like, Sizhui was rightfully hesitant to meet this creature.

Finally reaching the place, he walks around looking for the secret passageway. Being in the library, however, he could not help but look at an open book talking about a chord assassination technique. Backing away, he forced himself not to jump when he heard whispers.

Lan-er-gege! You can't be mad! I've called your name so many times. Sizhui stops there. Lan? That's his family name. Why would he hear his family name? He thought back about his parents saying that they had an ancestral home once. But they never finished telling him anymore than that. After all, how could they when the 18 wheeler hit them, pushing their car over-

"Find the secret passage. Find the flags. Find the secret passage. Find the flags." He tripped. Face smacking the floor.

Did he mention how much he hated this place?

He rubbed his nose, checking for blood. Thankfully, there wasn't any and looked to see his foot caught on a handle. A handle that led to a door under the library. The secret passageway. He pulls it up and walks down the staircase.

Dust and cobwebs covered the entire place. Gulping he walks forward using the sword to clear the way making sure to not disturb any of the spiders.

"Well, I know that Jin Ling is definitely not here. He would just screech at this sight." He finds a stack of flags at the end of the room next to a jar. He makes a quick count and realizes he’s short one.

"Okay, where's the last one?" Looking around, he feels a sudden vertigo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Come to Gusu with me.

I can't. What will happen to the Wen's? You know that the other Sects want them dead.

I can talk to brother.

I- I

Please W̴̢̳̻̮̪̱̤̖̲̤̟̱͌̈͌̆̚͠͠ͅę̶̮͖͍̕ḯ̴̛͚͉̜̙͉̰̱͐͝ ̴̲̺̭̰̆̈́͐́͒̀̋̋̋̓̾̕͠͝W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠ come to Gusu.  I will talk to brother. The Wen's will be safe. A̷͕̯͔̖̤͖̫̼̫̹̼͛̏͆͑͆͂̏̏͊͂͂́͘-̵̡͍̗̬̯͚̹̹̱̼̰̟̘̩̖̥́̐̄̈́Ỵ̵̢̮͎͚̱̗̯̘̹̉̋̂̔̓̍̇͆͗̈̃͑̐̈́̋̋̐͊̉͛̚͘͝͝ͅu̸̧̡̖͕̼̗͓̳͙͍̠̹̙̗̙̘̥͍̯͖̫̦̣͆̊͠͝ȧ̶̡̖̳̫̟͔̣̩̋̔̀̆̀̒͠ň̸̢̧̨̛̘̠̗͍͇̭̯̪̠͕̤͈͚͔̟͕͔͖̖͕͌̇̈́̿̏̈̇́̃̏̈́̎̃̚̚͜͠ will be safe-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A hand holds him up, and he calls out a name.

"Jin Ling?"

"Jin Ling? There is no Jin Ling, though there is a bastard with that family name." Her hair was up and her dirty black robes have seen better days. It looked burnt and ashy. She had a stern face, but oddly he felt the urge to see her smile. He shakes the thought and looks back, her face familiar, though he knows he never met her.

"Who-" She shushes him as they hear footsteps from above. It was slow and methodical. He catches sight of a white robe. Eyes widening, he hopes that his heartbeat would not betray their location. They lean back against the wall, standing still as statues. She silently signals him to follow her. He watches as she walks a few steps past the bookshelf to reveal a secret door, initially hidden by the shadows of the room. He works his way towards her.

The jar, caught by his jacket, falls with a loud crash. The woman gasps and holds out her hand. He darts to the door as Hanguang-jun breaks down the floor beneath him. As they enter, the woman is quick to close the opening making a grating rocky sound. The stone door should hopefully hold off the fierce corpse. His companion seemed to think otherwise.

"Quickly! Follow me!" They run down the passageway which leads to the forest. 

"He's still following us!"

"How do you know?" The sound of trees and branches falling behind him answers his question. Leaving him to wonder if this Hanguang-jun was strong enough to cut through the stone.

He's forced to stop when the woman turns towards him. From her robes she pulls out a needle which she uses to cut his cheek. He hisses as he watches her make a sigil. Something red and hazy appears next to her.

"You go down the path quickly, I'll meet you soon!" He didn't question her and took the path she pointed. He stopped at a dead end. For once it wasn't scary, in fact there were rabbits there. Sizhui sits down by the tree and hugs himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

W̷̧̪̱͚͖̅̐̌̀́͠ȇ̶̛̹̜̐̋̀̎̈̄͝į̸̡̗̤͈̪͉̈́ ̷̟̻͔̋̋̓͂̌̋͊W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠. I love you.

Ah, L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚! Warn me when you tell me things like this.

Mn

L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚, take responsibility and hug me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wakes with a start.

That wasn't- that wasn't them.

It looked like them, but it wasn't them.

"Hey Sizhui! Wake up or I'll break your legs!" Sizhui rubs his eyes as he looks up to finally sees his cousin.

"Jin Ling, where were you?" Jin Ling scoffs.

"Looking for you! Come one let's get out of here. This place is creepy." Sizhui nods and stands up. They walk out of the grove.

"What were you doing, anyway?" Jin Ling asks, rubbing his arms up and down. Seems he lost his jacket while searching for him.

"I was running from zombies." Jin Ling stops to look at him, then laughs mockingly. 

"I'm serious! These fierce corpses were chasing me, and I had to run around getting these items. Look! I had to grab these flags to do a ritual-" He feels a sharp pinch on his arm. "Hey!"

"Can you hear yourself," asks Jin Ling as he tsks. "Zombies, rituals, really Sizhui I know you don't want to go home but stop playing around."

"I'm not-"

"Really? Then why don't you go visit jiu'jiu'-Xian? Visit-"

"I'm not playing!"

"As if! Look, I know the shit that everyone is saying. Cursed child, whatever! You just punch them in the face!"

"uh... A-die says I shouldn't."

"Your A-die doesn't even respond anymore. Coward." Sizhui turns his head sharply, eyes narrowing. Jin Ling raises his hand up. "Sorry. Low blow, but I'm serious. Everyone is worried about you and you can ignore those gossiping blowhards. They just want to say something to feel important." Sizhui doesn't even bother to get after for him.

"How did you find me, anyway? I didn't leave any notes." Jin Ling raises his eyes in disbelief.

"We sent pictures on the web and tv. Some dude caught sight of you at the gas station." Odd, he only saw granny there taking care of the counter and there were no cars around. Maybe it was a passing vehicle and the guy just saw him. It didn't matter. He tried to run because he wanted to escape. Better for everyone.

Ever since his parents died A-die and Senior took care of him as if he was their child. They still told stories about his mama and baba. A-die even taught him how to play the Guqin, though he knew he was rusty now. He stopped playing when A-die stopped responding. That was almost six months ago. Now he was the cursed kid that no one wanted to be around. Anyone that takes care of him meets a grisly end. He receives a harsh slap on his back.

"Hey, when we get back I'll stand by you and help you beat up those whinny ninnies." Sizhui snorts.

"Whinny ninnies? Have you been hanging out with Jiu'jiu-Cheng?" Jin Ling scoffs looking away, but not before Sizhui caught sight of his face turning red. It was then that they heard moans coming from one of the forked paths.

"Sizhui. Tell me you were really kidding about those zombies." Jin Ling stares at Sizhui, who shakes his head. They both turn just in time to see the fierce corpses heading towards them, now running since it caught sight of them.

With no prompting, they ran side by side to the hallways of Gusu Manor. Left, right they ran to hide from the monsters, but no matter where they went they found themselves unable to outrun them. It was as if there was a tracker on them. Letting these creatures were they were going.

Sizhui has a horrid realization.

"Jin Ling! Take this path! It should lead you to the Hanshi, you should be safe there!"

"What? No!"

"Do it! Wait for me there! I will meet you there!" He pushes his cousin and runs the opposite direction. The fierce corpses ignore Jin Ling and follow him instead.

Damn Guangyao! Couldn't he have told him that these flags were a damn beacon for these monsters! And he wanted to smack himself for leaving the sword behind. Though it would do much good since he had a horde.

He remembers the talisman and finds one that say's repress. As he runs he is quick to grab a box that was the perfect size for the flags, place them inside and places the talisman on it. It glows a light blue and slowly it appears as if he is losing them. Once he ran far enough, he found that he was further than he intended from the manor.

Luck was on his side when he caught sight of large, trumpet-shaped flowers. They were an intense blue. Finally, Sizhui was on his way to the Gentian house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the house was no trouble. It was the last item that was the issue. Guangyao had told him that at the Gentian House there should house the Stygian Tiger Seal. The only thing he found was the missing flag, which he placed in the box for safekeeping.

No matter where he looked, he could not find the item in question. Under the bed, in the desk drawer, the bookshelf with a sealed red and white urn, he even went to look under the boards, but nothing. He was about to call it quits when he heard the door open.

He hides in the closet and peeks to see the Yiling Patriarch. He looked around, confused. Crap! He’s bound to notice him.

"Aiyah! I must have left a mess. Oh, well." He sits down, pulls out a board and reaches in. From there, he pulls out a bottle that reads Emperor's Smile.

"He, he, he There's not much left so I may as well enjoy what's left." He pulls off the seal and drinks it. The fermentation strong in the air. Sizhui tries not to gag.

THUD! THUD!

He holds his breath when he sees the man stand up, angry.

"Get lost!"

THUD! THUD!

"GET LOST!" He hears the bottle of wine crash against the door, the resentful energy feeling thick in the air.

"GET LOST! GET LOST! GET LOST! DIRTY LIAR! CRUEL WORTHLESS DIRTY LIAR! MURDERER!" Sizhui almost felt faint by how much resentment was filling the air. Thick inky clouds expelled from the Yiling Patriarch. He wanted to cry, yell, anything, but all he could do was let out a pitiful sob. He sits back, upset.

It becomes quiet, the energy he felt gone. Sizhui covers his mouth. Did he hear him?

He sits still, listening. The footsteps are slow, as if trying to make the most minimal sound as possible. Maybe he heard but didn't know where the sound came from? If he's lucky he can sneak out and distract the Yiling Patriarch and maybe come back?

The door opens as a pale hand pulls him out. He screams as he's thrown to the partition.

"Oh, and look at this small mouse. Did you think I would not find you?" Sizhui crawls back, trying to get away from the man. The steps he took were still slow, but also predatory. The resentment, the ominous clouds now hung heavy in the air.

"Tell me what are you looking for mouse? Maybe I can help you?" Teased the man viciously. Sizhui is still crawling back until he finds an incense burner.

He throws it. It didn't hit him, but it gave him the chance he was looking for, which was to run to the door. As he opened the door, he barely missed being decapitated when he ducked to an opening.

"Damn that Hanguang-jun!" He doesn't turn to look back. But he could feel that they were close, which was bad. All the running was getting to him. He didn't know how long he could keep it up. He was about to trip, when he’s suddenly wrapped in chains and pulled up to the sky.

He's caught by the Ghost General. His heart, wrought in fear, goes to his throat as he faints.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stop following the demonic path

Ah, L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚, you have no-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

L̷͍̣̟̬̤̹̝̜̪̮̭̈̌̀̿̑͑̈́̐̈́̐̇ȃ̵̧̫͕̪̰̻n̴͔̳͖͗̑͒ ̸̲̖̜͕̈́̀̂͌̏̐͂̇̎̚͘Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚, than-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ẅ̵̧̨̠͇̦̩̹͕̰͉̥͔̪̯̱̙́̉̅͛́̅̎̔̎́̐́̔̃̃́̏̍͑̀̃͘̕͜ͅẻ̷̤̼̭̭͍̮̝͎̪̯͕͈͔̻͍͐͒̾̌͊̆̂̓̿̋̇̾͊̾̎̒̉̆͜͠į̴̛̤̩͕̙̗̥̠̦̬̙͈̗̟̖̆̽̃́͂̀̏̀͒̊̎̔̇̎̈̃̿͑̋̄̚͝ ̵̨̛̘̯͈̻̔͋͒̀͌̀̌́̌͋W̴̨̛̖̮̖̫̗̣̫͖̣̌̌̏̃̀̐̔̐̆͛͛̆̿͆̀̈͑͂͌͑̈́̂̓̕u̷̧̖͈͕̹̬̫͓̲̠͉̭͐̈́̓͋͐x̶̳͓̪̟̯̜̯̳͙̳͇̪̳̻̳̦̺̲̝̟̓̄͋̅̈́̑̋͜͠i̴̢̨̛̛̙̱̺͍̜͚̗̟͉̗̹̘̝̦͌͑͛̌̃̎̇̔̀̋̈́̊͊̾͋̉̓̽̚͜͠͠ͅͅa̶̹͖̤̝̗̻̹͎̦̤͚̮̯̪͎͇͕̗̫͙̠̹̹̎̇̀̈́͆̃̃̈́̈̈́̈̎͜͠͝͝n̵̳͉̤͈̗̽̏͛̈́͗̊͝͠ .

Did you forget what we promised? What's right and what's wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you hear? The Jin Sect is cursed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another vision. Great. Ever since his hit on the head he tried to ignore them as time passed, but whatever happened back then seemed to want to make itself known. No matter if the audience is unwilling or not. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes.

He awoke in what looked like a boarding room for school kids. As he got up, he’s quickly pushed down.

"You need to rest. You've had a hard night." It was the woman from before.

"No, no, I need to continue"

"And as a doctor I need you to sleep. My brother found you and saved you from those two." Sizhui’s confused.

"Your brother. He fought the Ghost General?”

"He is the Ghost General." His eyes widened as he looked around. "He's not here, but I am. My name is Wen Qing and you are?"

"Lan Sizhui." He noticed her hand stiffened for a moment, then continue with his wounds. She wrapped and cleaned his arm with a bandage and was now cleaning a wound was on the wing of his back. Funny, it must have been the adrenaline running in his system. He didn’t realize he was injured till now.

"What exactly are you doing? Running around, you should be leaving, not staying." She reprimanded as she cleaned and tidied up her supplies.

"I was told that I could not leave until I broke the curse."

"And who told you that?"

"Guangyao." Her hand freezes just as she was about to close her box.

"Guangyao? Jin Guangyao, you're listening to that beast!"

"What are you talking about?" He asked, understanding now that there was something more to his mysterious benefactor.

"He didn't tell me he was a Jin, just that his name is Guangyao." Wen Qing scoffs.

"Only because he doesn't want his crimes to be known. Listen here! You need to stay away from that man. He will only use you and throw you away once you're no longer any use to him."

"What do you mean?!" Wen Qing sighs.

"He is the reason that this curse came to be. A  long time ago our leader, Wen Ruohan, lost the war and they killed the survivors off. Only Wei Wuxian stood for us since we save him and his brother." She closes the box and puts it away.

"During the war he created the Stygian Tiger Seal. It was powerful, but it did its job, however later on he grew to fear how much resentful energy it was consuming. So he made a deal with the remaining Sects. He would give himself up and the Stygian Tiger Seal. In return, the Sects would let us live in peace." "I'm guessing that's not what happened."

"They killed us all and those remaining died without medical help. Even the smallest-" she chocked as tears fell from her eyes.

"You're not alive. Are you?"

"I died trying to hide little A-Yuan. But from what I hear, he didn't make it." She wipes away the tears.

"I don't get it. Why is it Jin Guangyao's fault?"

"It's his fault because under his father's order, he incited the other clans to attack by killing Sect Leader Nie and blaming us for it. If it wasn't for his brother, Nie Huaisang, finding out, then everyone would have believed we were guilty. I only know this because even now the remaining spirits love to whisper, but Nie Huaisang, visited  Wei Wuxian. He was heartbroken when he couldn't visit A-Yuan's funeral. They thought he was there to console him. They were friends during their schooling here in Gusu. Then a few days later he activated the curse. And now we are here, stuck in Gusu, unable to move on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

L̵̡̧̢̞̦̰͖͍͚͉̳͒͌̀͗̀â̵̧̯̫̦̳̟͉͖̣̝̄̆͑̆̾̑̈́n̶̥̔͋́̈̊́͘ ̸̢͉̬̞̲̘͎͊̐Ŵ̴̭͊̾̎̌̆͜͠a̴͍͉̳͍̐̓͜͜ͅͅͅn̴̜̺͖̰͉͖̻̆̂̾̓̈́̕g̸̗̈́͋͂̊̑͌̇͝͝j̸̢͓̣͎̟͠i̶͇̚ stood outside-

-wail in agony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jin Ling! Jin Ling! Where are you?!" He pulled open the door, not caring about the commotion he was causing.

Both of them were getting out of here, he thought. They weren't staying there a minute longer.

"Sizhui-er! What's the matter?!" Guangyao appeared by the partition as he walked over to calm the teenager.

"My cousin! I sent him here. I know it. I saw him head this way."

"No, no, no, I saw no one come by. Here," he pours a cup of tea and presents it to Sizhui. It felt warm to the touch. "Drink this. You would feel better afterwards." Sizhui stared at the cup and felt a surge of anger as he threw the teacup, not quite hitting Jin Guangyao, but close enough.

"ENOUGH! Enough with the lies! Enough with the half-truths! Tell me what do my parents Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have to do with the spirits of Hanguang-jun and the Yiling Patriarch!?"

Jin Guangyao sighed, sat down, as if he was the one who ran around this damn place, tired. He looked at him straight in the eyes.

"It took a while to find all of you, you know."

"Excuse me?!"

"Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are the reincarnations of Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun and Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch. Or rather, their half-reincarnations. So I called them. Pulled their souls over here." Sizhui punched him.

"YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT MY PARENTS ARE COMATOSED BECAUSE OF YOU!" Guangyao laughed, not a care in the world. The secret now out.

"See I made many choices, choices that led to the deaths of an entire sect, that led to the terrible descent into madness for Wei Wuxian. I didn't care. I was working my way to getting my father's approval, or at least I thought I did." He grunts as he gets up, wiping the blood from his lip.

"I was a war hero and shared the cups of brotherhood with two other known figures from the war, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen. Yet, no matter what I did, it wasn't enough." He gave an empty laugh. Sizhui felt uncomfortable as he felt the despair.  

"I ruined Sects for that man so that our Sect could stand on top. I killed one venerated brother so there would be no opposition, had the Wen-dog survivors blamed so we would kill them off. I destroyed Wei Wuxian's reason for living and relationship so we could appear righteous and powerful. Then I destroyed the one that truly mattered."  Sizhui gulped as the man in front of him reminisced.

"I didn't mean to, but I failed to see how much Huanguang-Jun loved Wei Wuxian. It was easy to see how much Zewu-jun loved his brother, and for him I made sure no harm would come to his little brother. Zewu-jun, he called me his equal. I wasn't some son of a prostitute, I was special to him. When I had the Wen's killed, the Yiling Patriarch cast his curse, which Huanguang-jun accepted... I saw how Zewu-jun broke down to see his brother give up, be taken willingly."

“Hanguang-jun blamed himself.” Stated Sizhui. Jin Guangyao nodded.

"Yes, and maybe he wanted to show that he would stand by Wei Wuxian's side. Who knows, that man didn't speak much, always keeping his thoughts to himself. Like I said, I didn't care about anyone else except for my father's approval and... Zewu-jun, Lan Xichen." Sizhui looks back at the man sitting on the other side of the room, hidden by the partition.

"Discovering what I did, Zewu-jun immediately blamed himself, for without his blessing's and his help, I would not have been able to do the things I did. When I tried to break the curse, the reason we couldn't was because of me. Zewu-jun could no longer trust me. So we- I failed. The only thing we did was just forcefully subdue part of the spirits." Jin Guangyao clenched his teeth, holding back the tears that threatening to spill from his eyes.

"My betrayal was too much, the pain that it wrought was too heavy, that he just shut down. I don't care wether any of the spirits here can find healing, but for Zewu-jun I want to break this curse and maybe he can finally move on." Sizhui sighed.

He just wanted to find his cousin and get the hell out. However, hearing what happened to the Wen siblings living the half cursed life. The memories of Lan Wangji sitting outside the Gentian house when he wanted to get Wei Wuxian to at least talk to him, hear him, see him. The pain when Wei Wuxian wanted to save little A-Yuan only to die. He never even got to see his body to mourn properly. Damn his bleeding heart.

"Fine, let's get started."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Mingshi was musty smelling, perhaps from the mold, dark and littered with cobwebs. They worked quickly to clear it with only the light of the moon, from the broken ceiling, to guide them. Though ominous, Gusu must have been a beautiful place. He could almost imagine the foliage from the outside, how the ponds and rivers would have trickled and the birds singing.

But it wasn't. He would need his friends' hands to count how many steps he broke from him just placing the slightest pressure. He picked up the scroll and read the evocation and rest. As he told Guangyao it had been a while, but he hoped he could remember the hand placement to play these scores.

A nagging question had been on Sizhui's mind. Would the ritual work? And why? Figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask, Sizhui turned to ask Guangyao the nagging question.

"Sizhui-er, I have every belief that this ritual will work."

"And why is that?"

"Because, you have Wen Yuan's spirit." Sizhui's blank face caused Guangyao to sigh heavily.

"Part of the reason for Wei Wuxian's madness is that he blames himself for his adopted son's death. When he realizes that you're the reincarnation of Wen Yuan it may settle him down enough to allow us to play Rest for the peace that he denied himself." With all the cloak and dagger from Guangyao, his word was useless. So why go along with this?

"And if that does not work?"

"In the words of today's youth, we are totally screwed" Sizhui snorts. Guangyao side glances at him questioningly.

"You are out of touch."

"Shut up." Odd how that reminded him of Jin Ling. That is the most frustrating part. He met his cousin finally only to lose track of him.

He's startled when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"I have it on good authority that your cousin is fine." Sizhui felt a familiar course of anger but was too tired to act on it.

"Is this something you've known for a while?"

"Not until I had confirmation." Knowing the man by now, that could have been a few hours ago or maybe right from the beginning. It was no use now.

Quickly they set the Spirit Flags and drew the sigil for evocation from the Elder Teacher's scroll. He pivots to see Guangyao holding the flute, Liebling as he called it, touching the mouthpiece, his lips pursed.

"Will you be able to play it?" Guangyao snaps out of his trance and nods.

"I've practiced, just not with this instrument, but it should be no different." Sizhui nods and takes his place.

"What do we do about the Stygian Tiger Seal?" That had been the only thing he hadn't been unable to bring with him since he had to run for his life. Really, he would do anything to not get near the madman.

He... he wanted to go home with his A-die and Senior.

"He'll bring it with him. There is no way that he would leave without it." Guangyao ignored Sizhui's glare as he puffed in indignation.

"Then what was the point of me going to the Gentian House?"

"To let him know that I haven't stopped."

Lan Sizhui had to count to twenty in order not to kill Jin Guangyao.

"You are the most aggravating man I ever met."

"Yes, Dage would tell me that often." He was not laughing. He wants to go home. Wants to find Jin Ling. Eat Lotus Pork Rib Soup and forget that this night ever existed. Sadly, he let himself get duped, he realized. He should have grabbed his cousin the first chance he found him and just ran the hell out of this place. Now he’s stuck here, baiting a madman who apparently had every right to curse this place, who held... Senior's soul. 

He realized the implication now. Did Senior not wake up because now, in his previous life, Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch held his soul. It would make sense, weirdly. The doctors could not find out why he refused to wake up. There was no brain damage, no previous health problems. He was just asleep. A-Die is like that too. They had trouble waking him up, and now his appetite was non-existent.

That broke him.

He couldn't see him go down the same path as Senior. He was the one lifeline he had against, the vicious rumors that sprouted. Cursed child.

He left for that reason.

His parents died trying to get home quick to surprise him. A-Die and Senior are now dying because Guangyao called their spirits back and the only way to save them is to put the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-jun to rest. The doors open and the few candles that Guangyao lit flicker off, one by one. Sizhui follows Guangyao's lead as he plays Clarity. He did not understand what was happening, but he could feel the coaxing influence as Guangyao directed the energy to circle around them.

"My, my Lianfang-zun, you're still here? I would have thought you'd have wasted away," joked Wei Wuxian as he walked through the door. He wasn't alone. Behind him were scores of fierce corpses in faded blue and white robes marred with dirt and blood. They stood there as if in attention.

It became apparent why, when the Stygian Tiger Seal is pulled from his sleeves, floating in his hands.

"If I recall correctly, I wounded you."

"Yet here I am."

"Yes, very interesting. Anyway's give me back the Wangji. That Guqin doesn't belong to you." All this time Sizhui hadn't stopped playing as instructed, but felt nervous. The Guqin, called Wangji, trembled in Sizhui's hand. He didn't see how this could be a weapon, but right now he had no choice but to trust Guangyao. He played the notes on and on, concentrating on the music, trying to listen to the scene happening before him.

"Wei Wuxian, you know that it's time to stop."

"Time to stop? Funny, the time to stop should have been when I gave myself and the Stygian Tiger Seal up, the time to stop was when we locked ourselves up in Burial Mounds, the time to stop would have been after the war when the Wen's gave up. But you didn’t, did you?" He plays a harsh note and sends a red and black energy towards them.

The sound of Clarity encircling them dissipated the attack.

"Oh, and I guess you learned some new tricks? Then again, you always were so good at twisting something so good for your benefit weren't you?" Guangyao growled as he prepared to send an attack only to stop when the Yiling Patriarch moves to the side.

Lan Xichen was supposed to be in the Hanshi. Yet here he was floating, held by the dark resentful energy that the Yiling Patriarch exuded.

Lan Xichen dropped to the floor, shoulders slumped.

"And here is the other culprit."

Guangyao stilled. With a quick movement, he motioned for Sizhui to be ready to be on the offensive.

"Seriously dabaizi, how naïve could you be. Oh, wait you weren't, you were just willfully ignorant. You know Sang-Gongzi was kind enough to tell me how many times Dage tried to warn you about Jin Guangyao? He's a liar. You can't trust him outright. He's up to something. And what did you do?" He lifts the other man's chin up.

"You gave him the very thing he needed to kill him. Your action allowed him to pin the blame on the surviving Wen's and kill them. Tell me, why were you allowed to mourn for A-Yuan when your actions had  a hand in killing him." He could not see an expression from Zewu-jun, but Sizhui could see the tears.

"Tell me Guangyao, will you be willing to save Zewu-jun or will you let him die just like Sect Leader Nie?" The horde of fierce corpse's ran in and Guangyao’s forced to work double time. On one end he played Liebling to continue the surrounding shield, on the other he helped Sizhui to direct the attacks to the fierce corpses.

If they had more time. More chances to work together, their teamwork would have been possible.

It failed as a demon corpse plunged a blade into Lan Xichen's back. His body dropped.

"No!" Guangyao ran hoping to catch Zewu-jun as Sizhui let out one last attack, pushing back the fierce corpse's back. It broke the connection. Red eyes narrowed in irritation.

Guangyao held Lan Xichen's body as he wept in agony, trying to stop the blood. It seeped his beautiful white robes.

"Zewu-jun! Zewu-jun! Xichen!" Cried out Guangyao, his voice breaking in pain. Sizhui allowed himself to become distracted, not realizing that the Yiling Patriarch was right next to him. He stood up in fear only to feel him ram his hand to his chest.

It was odd as he looked down. There was no blood, in fact it didn't go through his chest, but he noticed a red energy where the hand went through. It wasn't until he felt a squeeze to his heart that he realized the terrible implication.

"I don't know how you broke the connection. A lucky strike, perhaps? It matters not, why don't you make your last amends, eh?" He squeezes his heart and Sizhui could only scream in pain. His mind blacks out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I can't-" "You should take him. He see's you as his father" "..." "A-Die! A-Die!" "A-Yuan! How is my little turnip!" Sizhui can feel himself carried and as he squeals into the air. A-Die is so fun! Alway's burying him in dirt to make him grow like the turnip he is, taking him to the market and let him play with the toys. Although he never bought him any, he never thought to beg him to buy it. He's thrown up in the air, enjoying the excitement. He could hear Wen Qing chiding him and uncle Wen Ning moving around to make sure he didn't fall. No worries. A-Die will always protect him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Yiling Patriarch let's go as Sizhui falls back gasping for air. He didn't believe Guangyao's remark, but he could feel A-Yuan's feelings and how safe he felt. Tears fell from his eyes as he tried to get ahold of the turbulent emotions within.

"A-Yuan? A-Yuan is that you?" Sizhui looks up and see's the man in utter happiness. He looked so young, so joyful. Like he had committed no atrocities in his life. He tries to back away, but frozen from the frenzied look of Wei Wuxian. The man hugs him, his shoulder becoming damp with tears.

"A-Yuan! You're back, you're finally back! Please tell me you're here to stay. I'll protect you. This time I'll protect you from anyone that wants to harm you! No one will hurt you here. I promise! We'll stay in the Gentian House, plant potatoes and radishes, I'll play the Chenquing for you, no nightmares. Maybe if I'm in a pleasant mood, if I can trust him, I can let that man play on his Wangji. Stupid man, naming it after himself, ha, ha, ha!" With each word the Yiling Patriarch hugged him harder and harder, his nails digging into him deeper and deeper to his sides.

He tried to push him back, but he just refused to let go. It was becoming harder to breathe. The sound of the iron chain was the only warning they had before the Patriarch pushed him away.

"Wen Ning... why are you stopping me? I get it now, why you did what you had to do. You knew he was little A-Yuan, but now you're trying to take him away from me? Why?"

"Because A-Yuan died and moved on!" All occupants looked back to see Wen Qing, holding a red and white urn, the same one he saw in Gentian House, standing by the doors.

"He's A-Yuan reincarnated, but he's not our A-Yuan anymore. Wei Wuxian let it go. It's okay. You did your best." Wei Wuxian shakes his head in anger.

"No, no, no! It wasn't my best. I trusted the wrong people! I thought I was doing the right thing. I had the best intentions, and you died, granny, uncle four, everyone died. A-Yuan died!" He makes way to grab A-Yuan only for Wen Ning to get in the way. Hanguang appears and sensing Wei Wuxian's intention runs to grab Sizhui, but the extensive range of the Ghost General's chain cuts him off.

He does a sweeping arc to the two men, who’re forced to step back. Lan Wangji however changes his momentum forward when the chain passed by him, intent to accomplish the new goal.

Sizhui grabs Guqin and plays more notes, remembering how Guangyao guided him. He plucked the strings towards Hanguang-Jun. It wasn't strong, but it caught him off guard. He picks up the instrument and runs towards Guangyao and to pull him away from this place.

They failed, but they can come back and make an alternative plan! Something that'll free his guardians, free the spirits!

He forgot how fast Hanguang-Jun could be when he appeared by his side and used his long legs to trip him. His face smacked against the floor and he’s forced down when a foot pushed into his back. The Guqin landed far from him. Guangyao was not idle, though, as he pulled his blade out.

"Get Zewu-jun out of here!" Sizhui nods as he attempts to pick up the body. He didn't know if Guangyao noticed or just ignored it, but already Sizhui could tell his body had lost its warmth.

Sizhui attempts to move the man's body, but he was tall and he had trouble moving him. He looked to Wen Qing to help him, but she just stood there.

"Wen Qing! Help!" But she shook her head.

A misstep happens as the chaotic resentful energy acts up and crackles in the air. It nearly hits Sizhui, which causes the Ghost General to change tactics and steps in to protect him and Zewu-jun’s body.

The negative energy pours into Wen Ning, who lets out a howling growl. Seeing Sizhui endangered Wen Qing is quick to throw the urn passing through him. He shivered, cold and confused. Why did she pass through him? Wasn't she a fierce corpse? Was she a ghost?

He hears a scream and turns to see Hanguang-jun cut the Ghost General into pieces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Lan-er-gege! You can't be mad! I've called your name so many times." "Shameless." The innocent sound of laughter is heard in the air of the Library Pavilion. Lan Wangji lips tilt in a smile. He hides it before Wei Wuxian catches sight of it.

***********

The Wen's took so much and now Lan Wangji’s left to wander with Wei Wuxian’s brother to look for him. He could only hope they weren't too late.

*********** "Stop following the demonic path," he laughs, surprising the occupants in the room. "Ah Hanguang-jun, right? You have no right to tell me anything. This is Jiang Sect's business." Lan Wangji leaves confused. What happened to him?

*********** "Lan Er-ge-ge, thank you for playing for me." Lan Wangji smiles and thinks everything would be okay.

************ It wasn't okay. It stopped being okay, and he didn't know what to do. "Wei Wuxian." "Did you forget what we promised? What's right and what's wrong?" That promise, they promised to protect the weak.

************ He'll protect them. He'll uphold his promise like he should have when We Wuxian first left. "Come to Gusu with me." "I can't. What will happen to the Wen's? You know that the other Sects want them dead." "I can talk to brother." "I- I…" "Please Wei Wuxian come to Gusu.  I will talk to brother. The Wen's will be safe. A-Yuan will be safe." "Can you promise me that?" "Mn." He will make the promise again if it gives him the chance to protect him and the others when he should have.

*********** "A-xian. I love you." He murmurs as he held him close. They couldn't bring A-Yuan yet, seeing as the Lan was in discussion with the Jin Sect about this. It should be fine though, as his brother promised to see things through. "Ah, Lan-er gege! Warn me when you tell me things like this," giggles his love. He looked better now. His face didn't look as pale, and though he found out his golden core’s gone, it still wasn't impeding his recovery. "Mn." "Lan-er gege, take responsibility and hug me." He does, and so much more. This moment and all other moments would become so precious to him.

*********** "You promised me!" "Wei-" "You promised me they would be okay! AND NOW THEY'RE DEAD!" "Please, listen!" How could it all go wrong?! The Wen's killing Nie Mingjue. He still couldn't understand how such a thing could happen, but all evidence pointed towards them. "I'M DONE LISTENING! I'M DONE! WHY DID I EVER LISTEN TO YOU! I SHOULD HAVE STAYED AT THE BURIAL MOUNDS! At least-" He sobs and he could only watch in pain. "At least-AT LEAST THEY WOULD BE ALIVE. WEN QING... WEN NING... A-... A-YUAN!"

********* They found A-Yuan, hidden by the tree trunk and sneaked him back here. They were too late, and they prepared a private funeral. The elders however had stipulations. "Never! His outbursts are too dangerous. Did you not see the resentful energy around him! It would only agitate the boy's spirit. It's sad that we were too late to save him from the fever, but we cannot allow him to partake in the mourning ceremony! The poor boy's soul would be endangered." Lan Wangji stood outside as he heard Wei Wuxian wail in agony. He wouldn't even answer his calls. He stood there, like he did when he was younger for his mother, but now for his A-Xian.

********* "Did you hear? The Jin Sect is cursed. Many of the main family are dead. The young madam had to move back home to protect the heir. How sad that her husband did not survive. Some say he had a hole in his ribs." He ignored the rumors, when all he cared about was whether his love would open the doors. He sat there on his knees, waiting. Waiting. He never noticed when the Stygian Tiger Seal flew into one of the opened windows.

********** Jin Guangyao arrived, claiming that Wei Wuxian stole the Stygian Tiger Seal. Lan Wangji didn't care.

********** Lan Wangji can only watch in despair as the Gentian House, the home of his late mother and now of his love, surrounded by resentful energy. The others begged him to move, to stop the Yiling Patriarch, but he knew he couldn't. He didn't trust him. Wouldn't open the door. He didn't even want to talk to him anymore. He lost that right when he could not protect the Wens. 'If I gave you my life.' He thought as he stood there ignoring his brother's call. 'If I gave myself to the curse, would you please look at me? Just once more.' Tears slid down his face, his throat closing up. 'Please look at me once more.' Jin Guangyao had to pull Lan Xichen away as he watched his brother give himself up to the Yiling Patriarch's curse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Hanguang-jun stood still, surprised that Wei Wuxian was looking at him.

"YOU DID IT AGAIN! GET OUT OF HERE!" Without a word he leaves, but not before grabbing his Guqin, Wangji. The Yiling Patriarch surveyed the area, ignoring the longing look from Hanguang jun.

The ashes were scattered across the floor as Wen Qing held her brother's corpse cut into pieces. She wept as Wei Wuxian landed on his knees.

"Wen Qing," he sobs. "Qing. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He kowtows before her. Wen Qing grabs his arm and shakes her head.

"It's okay. We've suffered enough, you've suffered enough. Let it go, it's time to rest," she utters as a golden light circles around her. Wei Wuxian could only cry as she disappears.

Both Sizhui and Guangyao leave with Xichen, allowing the Yiling Patriarch to mourn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They arrived to the Hanshi in a somber mood.

They didn't succeed and Zewu-jun, who somehow lived all this time, was finally dead.

He was still curious how such a feat was possible, but Sizhui didn't even had the energy to sate his curiosity. The latest visions left a sour and bitter taste to his mouth. So much good intentions and it all lead to this hell.

Jin Guangyao fell. He waves off Sizhui.

"Go take him to his bed. I'll- I'll sit here and then join you for a bit." Sizhui nods and proceeds past the partition.

Odd that he never really walked passed here. Then again, he was never invited to the private room and with Lan Xichen mourning... it really wouldn't be appropriate.

He steps in and takes in the sight. The place was tidy. The books were in their place. A broken Guqin rested in one corner of the room with blood on its strings. It must have been Guangyao's as he remembered the conversation from earlier. The event must have been bad since it stained the wood.

Sizhui turns and finds a sight that should have terrified him, but after tonight's events he felt numbed. There on the bed was a dried up corpse. He wore the same clothes as Jin Guangyao but where the peony emblem should be, was nothing more than a hole, dried blood staining the fabric.

Jin Guangyao was a ghost too, huh? Odd how he felt real to the touch. Then again, so did Wen Qing. He wondered how that was possible, when she just passed by him, except for the urn holding the ashes. Were those her ashes?

He settles the last master of Gusu Lan to the bed, next to Jin Guangyao. Funny that Zewu-jun looked like he was sleeping peacefully. He wonders what his visions would have been. Did he and Guangyao share tea in this room? What was the relationship between him and his brother to fully entrust the safety of the now deceased Wens? He must have been a man of great integrity to have everyone trust him undisputedly.

He walks out of the room ready to face Guangyao's ghost, only to see the Yiling Patriarch standing over the fallen form of Guangyao.

"Stay away-" He stops short when he sees a sight for sore eyes. On the floor wearing Guangyao's clothes was his missing cousin, Jin Ling.

"This makes little sense."

"It does to me. I knew I killed him, I was just confused about how he could wield Liebling. After all, ghosts have no corporeal forms, so for them to hold on to anything they would need a relative or someone with a weak spiritual constitution to possess. Let me take a crack at it. A Jin? He has the same haughty look that all Jin's carry." Sizhui stood still, ready to grab his cousin to safety.

Wei Wuxian smirks.

"Don't worry, no more blood will be spilt. We have enough tragedies as it is. Question though. You are Lan, but you're not bound here. You could have left anytime you wanted. Especially when you found this one, so why are you still here?" Sizhui clears his throat.

"I can't leave till I free my A-Die and Senior. You have their souls"

"Let me guess. Guangyao? Here's the truth. He lied. Go ho-"

"You have their soul's! Their names are Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. Your laugh sounds almost like his if it didn't sound cynical and Hanguang-jun," he pauses. Unsure to tell him about the visions. "He is just as intimidating." Wei Wuxian laughs.

"Well, it makes sense why I felt out of it. It's only till recently that I feel coherent." He walks around the room taking in the sight and stops.

"You know that empathy can go two ways, right? It's hard for those that start off in the beginning, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes easier to look at the other side." He see's Sizhui's face and laughs.

"You know the visions you had. Tell me why did you run away?" It stuns Sizhui. did he know, no wait what did he know? Lying wouldn't get him anywhere, so he might as well be truthful.

"I'm cursed, or at least that's what other's say. My parents died when I was five and A-Die and Senior Wei took me in. After a while Senior Wei fell ill, with A-Die following along after that."

"Hm... and you thought running away would help?" Sizhui feels ashamed for the first time since he ran. Why did a man who placed a cursed, who almost killed him, wanted to kidnap him, now appeared to be admonishing him as if he did nothing wrong in his life? His mood was all over the place.

"Look kid you had good intentions right? Follow my advice, then. Running won't do you any good, it'll just make things more complicated. I ran instead of talking to others, confiding to others, and look where it took me." He gives him a grin, eyes appearing to water. "How about you go home and let those that love you help?"

"But the curs-"

"I'll take care of it. After all your what 15?"

"I'm 17!" He laughs lightly, painfully reminding him of Senior Wei.

"Take your friend home and leave. By the time you are walking down the mountain, we should break the curse. I just need to collect someone to help me."

"And you could have done this all this time." The devil may care smirk seemed to be a favorite face that Wei Wuxian loved to wear.

"Rule number one of a curse maker. Always know how to break said curse." He walks away, heading down the path that lead to the library. Sizhui wastes no time and wakes up Jin Ling.

"What the hell am I wearing?" As he takes it off, revealing his shirt and pants underneath. Sizhui finds his shoes and jacket in the closet, mindful to keep Jin Ling out of the room with the two dead occupants. No way would he be able to calm Jin Ling. 

Leaving no room for argument or questions, he pushes his cousin out of Hanshi and down the path that would take them down the mountain. Along the way, they met Jingyi and Zhizhen.

He answered their questions the best he could without revealing the horrors he faced. It was especially helpful when Jin Ling could not recall what happened at all. He saw Jin Ling look at him suspiciously, but figured he would explain to him at a later date. Now though was the time to leave this damn mountain.

Zhizhen was the first to hear the distant sounds of Dizi and Guqin playing.

"Wow, that sounds beautiful! Hey, are those fireflies?" The group looked around as orbs of light floated the night sky. Sizhui could feel it. They broke the curse.

Thank Jingyi who did not believe they were fireflies and urged them down the mountain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tow truck came and took them to Moling, where they called their Jin Ling's uncle Jiu'jiu'-Cheng. They could hear him threaten to break his legs if they moved from the spot.

Apparently the boys didn't ask or tell anyone they left to pick him up. He could only imagine how Jiu'jiu'-Cheng would react with him. He was always cautious about how he interacted with him, treating him like he was some porcelain doll. He didn't think that would last long after his latest stunt, though.

The next day, after a vigorous shower and thorough checkup, the injuries he had horrified his friends. He went to the hospital. The place was busy, but not as much as the one coming from his parents' rooms. Nurses were coming in and out, getting things and chit-chatting in excitement.

"What's going on?" he asked gu'gu'-li. Jin Ling's mother Jiang Yanli smiled, the joy reaching her eyes.

"Why don't you see?"

Lan Sizhui walked up to the room. It was a lot to take in.

Last time he was in this room Lan Zhan would just not move. Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying's brother, had to always come in and forcefully move him. Didn't work for long, as he always returned, until he could no longer move. He came to occupy the bed next to his beloved. He stopped coming in after that.

'That goes to show how much he loves Senior Wei.' He thought mournfully.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but the moment he came in heard  the rustling of the bed. It's been so long since he saw those grey eyes filled with mischief and glee. Tears erupted from his eyes.

"Well, there's our little rabbit." Commented Wei Ying, laying back comfortably on the pillow, his voice hoarse from disuse. He held back his gasp with a choke, foot pace quickening as he went to hug him. He felt so frail, and if he hugged him any tighter, he was sure to break him.

The sob came out, but he didn't care. He wasn't embarrassed, he just wanted to make sure that this moment was real. That the nightmares from Gusu manor were long gone. Senior Wei, he wasn't cold; he wasn't menacing and most of all broken. He was here alive! Living, breathing, and so warm. It was just so hard to let go. But he did when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back and seeing those tired golden eyes.

"A-Die." His father turned him around.

"I'm sorry." Why was A-Die sorry? He didn't have to apologize. He was heartbroken. Lan Sizhui knew how much A-Die loves Senior Wei.

"Ah Lan Zhan, take responsibility and hug our little rabbit. Don't you see how worried he must have been." Lan Zhan agrees and hugs him tight. Lan Sizhui's eyes widened, then softened as he returned the hug.

"Don't worry about it. I know how much it hurt."

They stayed at the hospital room the entire day, reminiscing about the past and planning for the future. Jin Ling and the other's would join along. Almost caused them to be expelled, only to be kicked out when Jiu'jiu'-Cheng threatened to break his legs for his stunt. Running away had now permanently put him on the same list as Jin Ling, which said cousin cackled. Traitor.

Needless to say, Senior Wei forced him to stay the night to keep his adorable rabbit and show him all the love in the world.

Sizhui was okay with that as he slept on the couch happily. He was ready to welcome the many more days to come.

[notsissannis]

—Some Mystery Lost and Died Alone

Sirius Black x Tom Riddle

one-shot: complete

Rated: T

Read on [AO3] [FFN] — Thank you to my favourite girl for fixing my mess, @honeyweeds

This is a birthday gift for my beloved @synoir my Slytherin wife and my crazy Sirius/Tom lover! (We have so many plans, Su! Where them at?!) I'm sorry that this came out so late. Life's been taking over me and I believe your man has made sure you've enjoyed your birthday, so thank you, Durul!

This is for you, love! Our babies! Love you, Su!

Sirius stopped writing, snapping his quill into two in frustration. He cursed under his breath, trying his hardest to ignore the prickling sensation of being watched, again.

He swirled his head toward the source. He was right. It was the third time of the day he saw him watching him. He tucked his most cherished journal away carefully as it could have been one last gift from his brother.

“Prongs, tell me you can see him now,” Sirius half-begged his friend, hands waving to the young man standing at the hall’s door.

James looked up to where the boy was. His eyebrows knitted together before he faced him, rolling his eyes. “You tryna prank me one final time, aren’t ya?” He took a bite of his dinner, mouth full as he continued, “Not gonna work, Pads! I figured you out! Because…” His hands cupped around his mouth and he whispered, “I’ve prepared one for you, too!”

“C’mon, mate. Just tell me you can see him,” Sirius said exasperatedly, then he quickly added, “I thought we had a plan for graduation tomorrow! Leave with a bang kinda shit!”

“Yeah, but I’ve also prepared individual prank for each of you, Marauder’s honour.” James pushed his glasses up as they slid down his nose, “And I told you for the hundredth time—”

“Third,” Remus corrected between bites. “And I’ll kill you if I get pranked.”

“—I see no sort of boy,” James glanced to the door then to Remus, “And I love you more, Moony.”

Sirius ignored the spectacle boy and turned to his two other friends for support.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t see shit,” Remus said.

“Neither do I,” Peter admitted regretfully.

That did it. Because there was no way Peter wouldn’t take his side. He brought his head to the gigantic door again to make sure he was still there before he scanned around the hall, hoping that he would catch at least one girl drooled over the dark haired boy. Because as much as he hated to admit it, he was one good looking bloke. Snake or no snake.

His admittance itself started to creep him out.

“Well, third time's a charm.” Sirius pushed himself up, cracking his neck side to side. “I’m gonna drag him here myself and we’ll see if you fuckers continue with this half-arsed performance. As a self-proclaimed critic, let me tell you this: it sucks!”

It didn’t suck. It was very convincing. Very real. And as Sirius walked briskly to the door, he started to get goosebumps. Because what if, what if, they — everyone in the hall — really couldn’t see him?

He didn’t get to come up with an answer. Before he realized it, he was standing nose to nose with him.

Sirius once again scanned the hall for any drooling teenager. Still none. He cleared his throat, brushing the unease away as he looked down to the shorter boy.

“Come with me,” he said.

The Slytherin raised an eyebrow. His lips pulled into a smirk as he spoke, eyes gazing over his shoulder to the Gryffindor’s table. “Pardon me, Mr. Black. But I’m not interested in mingling with that merry band of yours.”

Sirius turned to his friends. Their attention were still on him. Only him. Alone. He was about to call them when he felt a warm breath on his neck.

“Meet me on the seventh floor at midnight,” the boy said. His voice was soft, a gentle wisp against his neck.

It sent chills running down his spine. “Seventh floor.”

“Across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy,” He added.

Sirius nodded his head. He was certain it wasn't a good idea to see this invisible boy later, but there was something captivating about his voice. The old, posh accent over his subtly demanding tone grasped at Sirius.  

So he nodded again and confirmed, “Midnight.”

The boy smiled. It was the most pretentious smile Sirius have ever seen.

“Alone.”

Sirius studied Barnabas the Barmy’s attempt to teach trolls ballet. He shook his head, erasing the absurd image off his brain. The night was quiet; except for the faint whispers of prefects walking down the stairs after their last round on the seventh floor.

He has been stood up, he surmised.

He chuckled humorlessly, turning his feet to the stairs. “What was I thinking?”

“Hopefully of me.”

Sirius whirled his head back to the tapestry and dropped his jaw open. Where it was Barnabas and ballerina trolls, now it was a big, wooden door. The boy stood straight in front of it with hands behind him, chin tilted up.

“What the fuck? I swear it wasn't there before,” he said, making his way toward the door.

“That’s because it wasn’t.” He shrugged nonchalantly — elegantly.

“So, what? It just appeared out of thin air?”

“I know. Wonderful, isn’t it? Magic, that is.”

Sirius’ heart skipped a beat. Magic, he repeated in his head, mesmerized by the way the ghost boy's eye lit with wonder at his own statement. The torch’s fire reflected in his eyes, making it seem like they were literally burning in curiosity, eagerness, desire.

Magic.

He could feel a bead of sweat trailed down his sideburn. “What’s inside?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

The boy pushed the door open. Sirius winced as the creaking sound echoed the empty corridor, a reminder that they were alone past curfew. Filch could be anywhere.

As if he could read his mind, he spoke. “No one can find us once we’re inside,” the boy told him. “Come. It will only be the two of us.”

Sirius halted. He turned to the stairs, evaluating his decision. The silence felt heavy around him, swallowing him whole. He turned his back toward the stairs, running his hand through his long hair as he made his decision.

This was his last night in Hogwarts. After the graduation ceremony, there was no certainty he could explore the castle again. He managed to convince himself.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

The boy smirked when he heard him, bowing his head down as his hand gestured welcomingly toward the room. “After you.”

Sirius walked past him. There was nothing wrong with being curious. He would tell all about this room to the others later. It was just another night of exploration and mischief. He didn’t expect to see Gryffindor’s common room on the other side of the door, though. Not from a Slytherin.

The boy stood proudly in the middle of the room in his green robe. The picture was wrong, as though he tried to rob the Gryffindor in him in every inch of the way.

“I could ask for Slytherin’s common room. But your comfort is my priority.” His words were those of snakes — a string of silky lies.

Sirius nodded amicably. Despite it all, it did bring comfort to him amidst the strangeness of the night. He took a seat in the armchair nearest to him, watching as the boy roamed about — his fingertips trailed along the line of the fireplace, the couch, and the back of his seat. He rounded him smoothly, his robe billowing as he crouched down between his legs.

“Now that we’re alone,” he began, his fingers tapping on Sirius’ lap, “Let’s talk about the great, unavoidable war.”

Sirius’ mind churned from nothing to everything. He thought of the Order, of his friends, of his bike, of his brother.

His grin seemed misplaced on his handsome face. “I know your brother quite well, Mr. Black.”

Sirius met his eyes, his breath hitched when he watched them blazing red. He blinked, trying to get a clearer sight, only to see them look perfectly normal. The familiar sound of woods’ cracking from the fireplace was a solace he held desperately close.

“Young Regulus is simply doing everything to survive,” he continued, his thumb circling on Sirius’ inner thigh. “He doesn’t have friends like yours, Mr. Black. He doesn't have the luxury of an older brother either.”

The words pierced through his heart.

“He’s afraid. Alone. With no one to turn to.” He stood up, standing behind his seat.

His arms circled around him, enveloping him like a spider web, trapping and wrapping him until he felt suffocated by the warmth of his common room.

“I feel sorry for the young gentleman. He’s a good boy, you see? Thrown right to the center of this chaotic war. He just wants to please his parents in place of his brother’s failure.” He whispered to his ear, “Whose fault do you think it was, Mr. Black? Whose role was it that our innocent Regulus had to fill on the eve of his sixteenth birthday?”

Sirius shut his eyes, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. He knew the consequences of leaving the house would fall on his brother. But he saw how his mother has been dotting Regulus in ways she never did to him. He thought it wouldn’t be as bad as what he had endured before.

His body shook as the despair washed over him. The lost of his brother’s innocence, the fact that they would fight against each other in this war, the youth that he had robbed from him.

He felt a set of cold fingers lightly scratching his scalp. “Let it all out, Sirius. We are all too young for this fight. We are nothing but pawns: expendable and worthless piece on his chess board.”

He pushed him away, jumping off his seat. His breaths were short and heavy. Rage ran through his veins as he spat, “You know nothing about Dumbledore. He’s a great wizard!”

The boy’s dark eyes darkened. He looked malicious but just like his red eyes, it was replaced with his controlled, handsome face in a blink. He sat on the armchair, crossing his legs with his two hands laid upon the armrests. “Have you seen the latest model of Triumph motorbike?”

The sudden change of topic threw him off. “What?”

He conjured a magazine, pale fingers flipping through the pages and stopping at one to his liken. “Personally, I loved this one.”

Sirius peered down to steal a glance of the image. It was the same one that he had been dreaming to own after he’s graduated.

He uncrossed his legs, urging Sirus to sit on the floor between them. Sirius complied. His back rested against the chair as he snatched the magazine from the snake’s hands. Thin arms cocooned him, humming as Sirius flipped through the pages, commenting lightly on each model.

He was doing nothing wrong. He was only talking about the war, about his brother, and about motorbike. It was a normal midnight conversation between two young men. He did nothing wrong.

So why? Why did it feel as if he has betrayed his friends? As if he has betrayed the Light?

“Another!” Sirius slammed his glass on the bar top.

“Sirius, honey. Don’t you think you’ve had enough for the night?” Rosmeta asked as she topped his glass of Firewhiskey.

Sirius barked out a laugh. The sound attracted every patrons of the night to him. “Rosmeta, honey,” he mocked, “It’s a night of celebration!”

“Of what?” She asked, exposing her cleavage as she leaned forward.

Sirius twirled the glass in his hand, hypnotised by the small swirl of his drink. “My brother,” he mumbled sadly.

The news had been late to arrive. His cousin, Andromeda, had written months ago to tell him, but the Order had kept the missive for fear that it was a threat. They knew not to put anything past a Black.  

“To your brother,” Rosmeta lifted her own glass.

“To my stupid brother.” He downed his drink in one go. As he predicted, the journal was his last — parting — gift from Regulus. A memento, weighing a ton in his jacket pocket. A heaviness he never thought he would carry. A burden Death left him with.

Meanwhile, presently, the whisky left him with a fiery trail down his throat. Burning him inside.

The fire sent his mind wandering into the night. Was it real? Had it really happened? Sirius never did tell anyone about him — about that night. Never even told James — about his cold fingers on his scalp, about his wondrous dark eyes, about his smooth words. A snake.

He caught a hint of movement from the corner of his eye. Shiver showered all over him as he felt it once again, just when he thought of him, the same sensation as he was being watched; by him.

His feet started to catch up to his brain, to his darkest thought. Follow him, find him, follow him, find him. The clanking sound of his motorbike key loud in his ears. The creaking sound of one of Rosmeta’s inn door called for him. The cracking sound of firewood transported him back to the common room.

He blinked.

And he was there.

“I’m sorry about your brother, Sirius.”

The door locked itself behind him.

“He was so young.”

“Who are you?”

The grin still looked misplaced on his handsome face. “How are you faring? With the war? A little bird has told me something disconcerting.” He passed the fireplace to the study, running his hand along the table’s gilded edge. “How’s young Potter doing?”

The effect was instantaneous. Sirius pointed his wand toward him. His fingers curling around it so sure that his knuckles turned white. “What do you know?”

“The only thing that matters: you.” He locked his eyes with him, “They’re an open target, Sirius. And as much I commend the brilliant idea of using Fidelius Charm, I condemn the moronic idea of using you as the secret-keeper.”

His wand didn’t waver despite of the sudden stop of his heart.

“Potter and Black. Black and Potter. Brothers in every way but blood. How foolish of you children to assume this puny deception could save you from Lord Voldemort?” He spat viciously, strutting toward him until his wand positioned right between his brows.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sirius stressed each of his word. His eyes lit manically, a reminder he did carry the insanity of a Black.

The Slytherin hissed. And hissed some more. And more. Until the journal hissed to him back.

“I believe you have something of mine,” he said, his palm spread open to accept the book as it zoomed out from his pocket. The leather bound journal fit him perfectly.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle?” Sirius asked. The name has engraved permanently in his mind as it had on the leather bound.

“Do you not know who I am?”

Sirius tried to recall if he ever heard of the Riddle from his Pureblood schooling. “Riddle’s not a wizards name.”

“You don’t know,” Tom concluded, his voice was soft and sympathetic. “Oh, Sirius. You’re fighting a war you know so little about.

“Please, change your plan. I want you to survive.”

“We’ve only met once!”

“But I’ve known you for years.” He set the journal on the table. “Everything you’ve written, all of your heart’s content that you had poured into this, I know.” He was suddenly in front of him, their noses brushing against each other. “I know you, Sirius Black. And I want you to survive this war. Please.”

His wand hand limp to his side. A bubble of laughter ready on his throat at the ridiculousness of the turn of event. What was it with this boy, shaking his belief, his core, his sanity?

“I have changed the plan,” he finally said. He could feel a gust of air hitting his chin. “I am not the secret-keeper anymore.”

Tom staggered backward. “Stop talking.”

But he didn’t hear the warning as he continued talking over it. “It’s Peter. It’s bloody brilliant! No one would have thought of him. He’s laid low the whole war. They would come after me. A perfect deflection to steer their attention away from Peter.”

“Enough!”

Sirius’ brows furrowed in confusion. “You wanted me to change the plan. I got it! I’m not that stupid!”

“Sirius! That’s enough!” Tom held his shoulders, his head tilted up for his forehead to meet Sirius’. “You fool. He now knows.”

“What?”

Tom inhaled deeply, seemingly to savour his smell. Sirius mimed the action. It was both intimate and sorrowful. He could already feel the emptiness it would left him with after.

“Go, Sirius. Maybe no one has to die on this Halloween night. Save your friends.”

As he fell back into the mysterious arch’s curtain, he was reminded of the invisible boy that he had met only twice in his life.

He had learnt about his journal being one of Voldemort’s horcruxes. He had listened to the story of Harry’s bravery — fighting the embodiment of Voldemort’s young soul, Tom. He had accepted the sin he’d committed unto James.

He had, after all, as good as killed them.

The torment never left him even after he closed his eyes into the eternal abyss.

[vivikawidow]

The gulls cried and the waves crashed. The island kingdom of Alnwick had been consumed by two weeks of mourning. King Robert had passed and now his eldest son Malcolm was the rightful ruler. Malcolm was preparing to abdicate his throne. His birthright was a burden he had never wanted. In the cover of darkness he would depart to the East to live in quiet simplicity with Mae Ling, the woman who had stolen his heart.

Malcolm was strong and kind. He had all the attributes of a great king but since he wasn’t fully committed to his duty he felt the task lay better with his younger brother, Edmond. Edmond was equally as kind but he was but a boy of sixteen and not ready to rule a kingdom.

Malcolm looked out onto the sea. The salty air washed across his face.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Edmond.

Malcolm lay a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The throne of Alnwick should only be occupied by a ruler who is wholehearted. My mind is constantly driving me elsewhere. I can think of no one better for our people than you, little brother.”

Edmond had always looked upon Malcolm with admiration but his decision to abandon his people was difficult to understand.

“If you leave you can never come back,” Edmond reminded him.

Malcolm offered a smile, filled with warmth but lacking in intensity. “I leave today because I never wish to come back.”

Edmond opened his arms, wrapped them around his brother and embraced him. He lowered his voice and whispered in his ear. “You are a coward. You are running away from your responsibility and I will never forgive you. The moment you leave these shores you become an enemy of this real and as its king I will bring you to call.”

Malcolm stepped back, pushing Edmond away from him. He seemed a little shaken at first but then he laughed. “Save some of that fire in your belly for your council. You are going to need every last drop of it.”

Mae Ling approached them. “We have to go,” she urged. Her long emerald robes trailed in the soft white sand. A boat lay in wait for them.

Malcolm embraced his brother again. “Forget your childish tantrums,” he said. “If this is to be our last, we will not part in such a way.”

Edmond’s shoulders depressed. He clasped his hands together in front of him. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”

Malcolm sighed. “You will be king. You apologise to no one,” he said. “Learn that and you will be a greater king than I would ever have been.”

“Will you not change your mind?” asked the younger.

“The time for that is gone. For us this is goodbye.”

Mae Ling kissed Edmond on both cheeks. She took Malcolm’s hand and they crossed the beach to their waiting vessel.

Edmond returned alone to Eccleshall to face his people and accept his new place as king.

***

When Eccleshall was alerted the abdication of Malcolm, the mother of the princes – Jane – wept herself dry of tears.

“I have buried a husband and today I lose a son,” she had said to her youngest, clutching his hand gently. She had aged rapidly in a short space of time. Deep lines had formed around her eyes which leaked despair. Her copper coloured hair had dulled.

“You still have me mother,” Edmond kissed her hand. “You will always have me.”

The Queen Regent took a sharp intake of breath. She caressed her cheek. “You are a darling boy Edmond,” she said. “ Alnwick needs you.”

The Royal Council of Alnwick brought together noblemen from all round the island to the capital city of Harborough where Eccleshall lay. Not crowned yet, Edmond had chosen not to occupy his father’s throne but instead sat on a high backed wooden chair next to it.

“The behaviour of Prince Malcolm is disgraceful,” uttered Lord Miley, a very stern man from the upper shores. He took no notice of Edmond. Edmond sat quietly and allowed the Lords to conduct their conversation.

“We need to make this change as quickly and as smoothly as we can,” stated Lord Pilrick of the lower coast.

Lord Miley rang his hands in frustration. “What will the people say when it isn’t Malcolm occupying the throne?”

An argument erupted. Edmond stood. The Lords were too busy bickering over something they had already agreed they couldn’t change.

“If I may,” Edmond called over them.

Lord Pilrick rubbed his ample stomach and bowed low. “Of course, his Highness must have his say.”

The Lords of the council stared at at them. Most of them had known him as a baby in his mother’s arms. He was an adorable, fair haired prince who they enjoyed seeing playing in the yards of Eccleshall and learning the princely traits but they would never see him as more than that. He was much beloved but none of the Lords took Edmond seriously as a king. Now that he had their attention Edmond had forgotten what he had wanted to say, if he had had anything to say at all.

“I’ll do my best,” he muttered and sat back down.

Lord Miley said, “Of course you will.” His condescending tones where as good as a roll of his eyes. He was disgruntled that the little boy would play king whilst the adults attempted to conduct the true business of Alnwick.

Edmond had watched his father conduct the council before. Robert would never have allowed them to rattle on they way they were. Edmond knew he was failing before he had even been given the crown. He cursed Malcolm for his selfishness. He cursed his brother for even thinking he deserved to leave. Mostly, he cursed Malcolm for not taking him with him.

A heavy bell chimed alerting the council to a visitor. It was only with that the Lords silenced. An Alnwickian guard pushed open the door. He stood tall, stared straight ahead and bellowed, “His Grace, Justus Vosoloo, Royal Council of Navaria!”

In stepped a man with a looming presence. His fingers were laced in gold and his towering, muscular frame was clothed in the finest of red and black fabrics. His strong, square jaw was set in bemusement.

“Alnwick welcomes Your Grace,” began Lord Miley, “But I must say, your timing doesn’t serve you well.”

Justus removed a golden handkerchief and wiped his forehead. The warmth of Alnwick bathed his soft, black skin in the dew of perspiration. “King Roman of Navaria has requested my presence here. He received word from Prince Malcolm that he no longer wished to be king of this great realm. He was instead leaving the duty to Prince Edmond.”

Lord Pilrick’s brow had knotted in a severe frown. “With respect, Your Grace, but what business is that of Navaria?”

“None,” replied Justus. “My king just wished me to offer respect to His Highness. He was concerned that in the bounds of great knowledge of this council his little cousin may find himself overwhelmed. I’m here to observe and offer advice if called upon, nothing more.”

Lord Miley grunted. “This is a very difficult time for Alnwick. We do not need some foreign devil making it worse.”

Justus raised his voice slightly. His resonating tones danced around the walls of the hall. “I beg to differ, My Lord,” he answered. “This situation will only be difficult it you allow it to be. Of course I can only go by what I hear but I’m sure Prince Edmond will make a fine king.”

Justus crossed his arms over his chest, observing closely. Edmond stared at a portrait of his father that hung on the wall. It had been created early in his reign. Robert was a pillar of masculine strength. He was broad shouldered, strong armed and with a full beard. Edmond pushed himself to be something of the man his father was.

“I want to speak to Justus,” he cried out. The Lords slipped into stunned silence once again. “Get out!” he called.

The looked at each other for approval before finally granting the prince his request. When they were alone Edmond gasped, the pressure from the council lifting from his chest.

“I can’t do this,” he admitted.

Justus pulled him from the wooden chair and onto his feet. “Of course you can,” he said. “It’s in your blood.” He pushed Edmond onto the throne. “Don’t let them bully you.”

“I still can’t believe what Malcolm has done,” Edmond stated.

Justus took the wooden seat. “Sometimes we take a path different from the one others think we should. A lot of responsibility has fallen on you but I’m here to help, Your Highness, or should I say, Your Majesty.”

***

The Alnwickian Lords did what they could to keep Justus at bay. His powerful presence at Edmond’s side had made things difficult for them.

With Malcolm gone they would have Edmond as a suitable figurehead on the throne. He would smile and wave at the people whilst they made the true decisions. Justus was encouraging Edmond to have more opinions of his own which was dangerous.

Edmond had been summoned to the hall. He tried carrying an air of superiority but it only resulted In his shoulders hunching. He tried to keep strong eye contact but every time he was addressed he would tremble. As a prince he had had no fear. He had given public addresses and he had held the crowd to his opinion but as a king it was more difficult, more real.

He noticed that Justus was absent. “Where is His Grace?” he asked. Some of the Lords looked up but none of them answered.

“His Majesty would like to take a walk,” said Lord Miley.

Edmond had not made any such request, “Would I?”

“Of course,” Lord Miley insisted. “It’s such a nice day and we would love to hear your thoughts on the future of Alnwick.”

Edmond was flattered. He was making progress with his council. Their true intentions were not apparent to him.

“If he can form opinions, let him form ours,” Lord Pilrick had said earlier that morning.

They pulled the boy away from his Navarian guard dog. They were confident that by the end of the day they could have Edmond dismiss Justus and have him sent back across shore where he belonged.

As they were heading towards the gardens a young girl tried to push through. “Your Majesty! Your Majesty!” she cried, waving a note above her head. “I must give this to you,” she insisted.

Edmond felt a sharp tug on his arm. He was dragged away from the girl. “Who was she?” he asked.

Lord Miley and Lord Pilrick shared a stare.

“She’s no one, Your Majesty,” said Miley.

Pilrick dismissed it as though it were of no consequence. “Just a silly girl, nothing to be concerned about.”

The reign of the puppet boy king began. Edmond never forgot the girl. She wasn’t seen around the castle and he worried that he would never learn the urgent message she carried until the of her return when the kingdom of Alnwick would erupt into war.

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The Unwanted Throne (A Red Snow Tale) The gulls cried and the waves crashed. The island kingdom of Alnwick had been consumed by two weeks of mourning.