Chapter Text
Beautiful, golden Jinfa. Speckled fields, painted precious silver beneath the moon and stars. Its secrets laid bare, its demons laid low, the village’s occupants gathered in the front yard of the guest house, watching the fateful hill with rapt attention.
A cry rose from one of the sharp-eyed villagers, a Liberi. She pointed up, up at the entrance to the mines. The flicker of Originium torches burst from the gaping maw of the cavern, blazing even brighter than the stars–heralds of the valiant.
The eleven of their number, who had bravely delved into the pits of hell to confront their long-buried demons, had returned. And so the rest of the rabble, previously sitting idle and nursing their cups of lukewarm tea with trembling palms, threw themselves out of their chairs. One woman’s cry turned into a chorus of bellowing cheers.
Villagers rushed to the crates that the inn’s proprietor had left for them, yanking out bundles of medical supplies, flasks of tea–anything to welcome their heroes home. Though it was well past the witching hour, the level of energy, galvanizing the people of Jinfa into action, could not have been higher. A festival! A feast! Only the warmest blankets and softest bandages for those who had saved them from the monster!
Spirits rose and soared. The most excitable of them pranced around like boys and girls a third their age, clapping their hands, whooping and cheering.
Their cheers echoed across the valley, cheers that shook the very hills.
Until an even stronger rumble surged up from beneath, like a roiling, roaring storm.
“That…” a villager frowned, turning his head towards the sea. “That sounds like–”
Thunder.
Thunder from deep below the ground.
It was felt as far as the mineshaft, above the storm of footsteps crashing over rock and stone. The fighters ran for their lives.
“...we might be cutting it close,” Leng gasped. “It was… one hundred seconds, yes?”
All Caspian could do was nod from the very back of the line. He scarcely had breath to spare of his own, and Xue was no less worse for the wear. The ten of them staggered upwards, locking arms with each other in a desperate charge to do the exact opposite of what they intended to do when they entered these tunnels: escape.
The Sarkaz leading them turned his head every so often to make sure that his brothers could keep up. Having discarded their heavy protective suits, and bringing only their torches to light the path ahead, they had a fighting chance of getting out of the mines before the chief’s sacrifice bore fruit.
Exhausted from battle, none of the villagers had prepared themselves to sprint back the way they came. But sprint they did, even as Leng cast his Arts, pulling the cavern walls down behind them, collapsing the cavern as they fled.
They ran until the winding catacombs of stone and rotting wood gave way to the coldness of fresh air.
Caspian’s eyes widened, so tempted to slow down and simply stare. The faraway window to the sky, a view of heaven itself–scattered its holy light down into the tunnel.
“...we are at… ninety… seconds,” the Sarkaz shook his head, flicking the sweat off his brow. With his free, non-casting arm, he grabbed ahold of the struggling soldier next to him and dragged him along.
Hurry. Hurry.
The Abyssal Hunter gnashed his teeth, forcing his battered lungs to choke on the dry air. He willed his legs to move, and his one remaining hand to hold Xue tight.
They ran for their lives. They ran for their futures, and left the past buried behind them. With their final spurt of energy, they spilled from the mouth of the cave, staggering into the moonlight. The yard, the dormitory, the night. These were familiar, earthly memories, and the villagers let out their ragged cries of relief.
“Barely…” Caspian rasped, his ankles threatening to sink into the ground with how heavy they felt.
He was just about to turn to Xue and check on her–like any good friend should–before a CRACK tore through the serenity of the night.
The explosion shook the very earth beneath them. Its bellowing cry echoed off the hills. The other villagers, already barely able to stand, all stumbled and fell–some right on their faces. Caspian kept his balance, clinging onto the Feline to keep her from collapsing as well. Despite Leng’s efforts to seal off the cave behind them, Caspian still heard the low groaning of dozens of makeshift stone barricades shattering, until a puff of smoke burst out of the cavern behind them. But nobody seemed to notice it; whether standing or fallen down, all who bore witness turned their eyes towards the ocean.
A column of water erupted from the lake–along with a rippling shockwave that crashed against the houses at the edge of the village. It stretched skyward, like a great hand grasping at the arms of heaven. And for a moment, it hung in the air, like a great, silent god.
But there was no god here. Only the stubborn bravery of man.
And in the face of that rejection, the hour of revelation drew to an end, and heaven closed its gates.
The spout of water collapsed, crashing back into the black lake that had birthed it. The lake crumpled at the impact, its integrity compromised beyond reprieve. Jinfa’s villagers stared, horror and reverence intermingling in their eyes, as the very waters sunk into the ground. With nothing under it to maintain its shape, the lakebed, the shore around it, and their wall of sandbags, slipped helplessly into the pothole. The crater only grew in size, as more of the surrounding area was swallowed up by the earth–until even the midnight high tide crashed over the knoll.
“Dynamite,” Leng was the first of the villagers to stand. “Powerful stuff, that.”
“Chief…” a Perro cradled his face in his hands. “Oh, God…”
The others murmured. Some in mixed agreement, trying to distract themselves from the pain and exhaustion. Others whispered in low, pining voices–for they knew the price that had been paid. To Caspian’s surprise, Xue slipped out from under his arm. He’d thought she would be the most devastated.
“...hey.”
A few of them turned to look at her, but most of their fighting force kept staring at the collapsing lake, as though either their great chief or the horrible monster would somehow claw their way out. Both were but wild fantasies, of course. Xue clenched one of her frostbitten fists.
“Hey! What’s everyone standing around for?!”
Now they jumped, startled by her sudden shouting. The chief’s daughter was already striding to the front of the group, her father’s axe in hand.
“I know—we’re all tired as hell, but it’s not over yet! We’ve still got to get back to the village, don’t we?”
She grabbed the villager nearest to her, a middle-aged man cradling his bandaged knee–and hoisted his arm over her shoulders. In essence, dragging him to his feet.
“Grab everyone who’s injured! We still don’t know what kind of crazy infections we might get from being bitten and cut, so we have to get those wounds cleaned as soon as possible!”
She spoke only the truth. Caspian had exhausted every last scrap of Aegir salts he had. Without the technology of the great golden city to bail them out, they had to move fast if they wanted to prevent any more casualties. Shaken twice over–once from the explosion, and now from Xue’s abrupt assertiveness–the villagers staggered upright, locking arms with their comrades.
As they marched out of the yard, they saw more torches heading up the hill to meet them. The rest of Jinfa had come to their aid. The warriors shouted, in their ragged jubilation, the sight giving them the willpower to forge on ahead. They dragged their battered bodies, and their comrades alike down the road.
They were going home.
The rest of the night slipped by like a dream. Caspian remembered the blurred shapes of the Terrans crowding around them, fussing over the injured. Xue’s voice carried above all the others. She held her Uncle Leng upright on their way back to Jinfa, both Casters utterly spent. It was by her decree that cold water was splashed on all, and bandages were torn away, reapplied anew, steeped in the pungence of medicine.
Those who couldn’t walk had to be carried, and Caspian himself was nearly scooped up by a kindly old man. He had enough sense in him to gently refuse the courtesy–though it was difficult to explain that even though he was missing an arm and sported a gaping, bloody hole in his torso, he would be fine.
He’d believed their preparation phase to be the busiest of all… but the village was just as abuzz with life when their procession returned to it.
The guest house, caring little for how late it was, kept its fires stubbornly lit. Tea was boiled, and porridge was served, with thick towels laid over tables to accommodate the wounded. The village didn’t have any certified doctors, but all who knew how to help did their part. Tending to each other, even feeding each other… despite her obvious fatigue, Xue was the busiest of all. She flitted from table to table, making sure everyone was okay. She made trips to the kitchen and back, bringing warm tea each time. And they thanked her–the girl who was all their daughters.
Hmm. With his vision fading, they really did look like a big family.
He was barely aware of how much he was standing and staring until he heard her march right up to him.
“Oh, good,” she bopped him on the shoulder. “You’re not dead yet.”
He managed something that could be called a smile, forgetting his scarf was in the way. He doubted she would have been able to make out what sort of expression he was making at all.
“...anyway,” Xue turned to look back at the guest house, where everyone was busying themselves. “You’re coming with me. Cleaning you up here would just get blood everywhere.”
That wasn’t the whole truth. But Caspian met her gaze–the sorrow veiled so thinly by obstinance–and bowed his head in agreement. She needed an excuse to flee the crowd.
He might have lost consciousness at some point. Although he felt the familiar crunch of his boots landing on gravel, every time he blinked, the whole world shifted around him, falling away like snow. At first, they were near the guest house. Then, when he next opened his eyes, she was dragging him through the front gate of the Li household. The next footsteps he took landed on wooden planks–and then water.
Warm, comforting water. The kind that didn’t whisper to him in devil tongues, or try to stick a spear of bone through his ribs.
Xue didn’t have to push him down into the bath. Once Caspian’s exhausted body comprehended the blessing of life-giving hydration, he practically dove into the tub himself. His knees gave way, and the Hunter sank into the water with a long, rasping groan.
For her part, Xue let the tap run, warming her own, numb fingers in the bath.
It could have been minutes, it could have been months of them simply sitting still, letting the events of the past few hours truly seep into their consciousness.
The trepidation. The violence of battle, and the cacophony of sea terror screams that wormed their way into the recesses of their minds. The horror that awaited them in the darkest depths of the cavern.
And the cost of victory.
Caspian sank deeper into the water, letting it lap gentle waves over his face. He took no shame in gulping down an indulgent mouthful of bathwater. If he took one more dry breath, he feared his throat might begin to bleed.
“So… who were they?”
The Hunter stared up at her. Xue wasn’t looking at him, and contented herself with wiggling her fingers beneath the surface of the water. She watched the deathly grey coloration fade away, replaced once more by the pinkness of health. Her blood mingled with his.
“Those shapes that the monster was fighting you with. They had funny hats like yours.”
Had? Caspian raised his hand to touch the top of his head. He scowled to find his fingers touching stringy, damp hair–rather than the familiar, sleek fabric of his bicorn. He didn’t even remember when he’d lost it. Going back to the cave to retrieve it was useless now, though.
“Other Hunters,” he sighed, lowering his hand to cover his eyes. “They were my comrades. The monster plucked their forms out of my memory.”
“...huh,” she swished her hand around, splashing water over his chest, and watching the rivulets run down his skin. “It can read minds?”
He would have believed Xue to know better, what with its spectacularly haunting impression of her drowning sister.
“To be honest… I devoted little thought to that. I only cared about hunting it down.”
“Haha. Guess it must’ve found that empty head of yours a pretty uninspiring wellspring, huh?”
He coughed.
“Shut up, you.”
That was one way to put it. The powers of seaborn often seemed beyond reason to laymen. All manner of fantastical mystics from stories–flight, body-snatching, telepathy–found their homes in the myriad beasts he’d slain over the years. He really never cared. The only thing on his mind was whether it was breathing or bleeding.
But he knew even that innocuous question was a way for Xue to distract herself, yet again. When she splashed her own face with water, so all of it was indistinguishably wet, she couldn’t hide her eyes. Blue as the morning sea, and swirling with pain.
“Xue.”
The tone of his voice let her know he’d caught on. The Feline kept her silence, but he saw her tense her jaw.
“Are you alright?”
The more stubborn she acted, the more she raised her voice and pretended she was the queen of her world, the more she bled.
“I can bathe myself,” he continued, brushing his hand over hers. “If you need to be alone for a while…”
“Ah… no, it’s okay. I’ll stay right here.”
She squeezed his hand. Her fingers were warm again; just as warm as the water.
“I’m not fine. But… I will be.”
Neither of them was fit to orate a eulogy for him. A father, a friend, a chief; he had lived and died doing what he loved.
Protecting his family.
However much he’d argued with his daughter, and butted heads with her on every matter under the sun, there was nothing that could truly break the bond of blood they shared. Now that he was gone, she was feeling it more keenly than ever–a hollow in her heart that once held a full household of laughter and life. Xue let out another deep, longing sigh.
“You never know the worth of the water till the well runs dry,” she murmured. "Fuck me, for never taking him seriously. God.”
The ice had all but melted off of Caspian now. His shoulder stump no longer bled, though the wound remained throbbing with soreness. He suspected it would continue to do so for many days to come. His chest had largely reformed, though the mauve splatter of pinkish skin in the middle of his ribs was painful to just look at. The rest of his bones would grow back, sooner or later.
“Anyway. I’m leaving.”
So she spoke, but still she stayed by his side, playing with the water. It took a moment for him to realize she wasn’t referring to the washroom.
“Truly? After everything?”
“Especially after everything,” she scowled. “You saw that explosion, didn’t you? After all that fighting, Jinfa’s a damn sorry sight.”
In the end, fighting for her future in Jinfa had only sealed her fate. There was no way she could stay now, was there?
“But I’m not leaving forever,” she smacked his cheek. “Don’t with at me with those sad eyes.”
Caspian declined to respond, still trying to process the fact that she had actually slapped him. Three days ago, he would have thrown her through a wall for that transgression alone.
“This story needs to get to Shangshu. First things first.”
Xue leaned back, retrieving his shirt off the floor; at least, what little remained of it, now barely retaining its original colors under the bloodstains, dirt, and assorted gore.
“Something like this can’t just be swept under the rug. I’m going to make sure people hear about it. There might be a whole handful of small villages out there hiding sick monsters like this one.”
So she hadn’t lost her original vision of her future. Although, Caspian did not want to ponder how well a Terran news agency would react to the sheer horror of a shapeshifting seaborn monstrosity. Widespread panic would be the least of their worries. He decided not to rain on her parade for now.
“And after that?”
“Well…” Xue rubbed her chin. “Maybe I’ll start saving up money while I work.”
Not just for herself, she went on to explain. Though she didn’t expect to get rich by any standards, she wanted to help any of those still in Jinfa move to Shangshu’s greener pastures, if they so wished. At the very least, if she couldn’t stay in the village, she didn’t want it to die a quiet death while she was away. With his limited knowledge of Terran mobile cities, Caspian tried his best to keep up with her. By the time she started going into detail about her rental apartment in Shangshu, and their various subsidies for senior farmers, the Abyssal Hunter could barely force his eyelids to stay open. Eventually, the haze settled in.
Golden cities, black blades, and the color of the ocean’s blue. In the air, the tingling scent of wine, dumplings, and floral tea. The ebb and flow of reality itself dipped him into the dungeons of eternity; a corridor of time for him to dream in. Under the drumming song of a heartbeat slowly healing, he counted fish. Soon, all he was conscious of was the sound of the waves, the hypnotic lull of the lightbulb’s warmth, and the tenderness of a hand intertwined with his.
A slam had both of them shrieking themselves awake.
“Ow!” Xue was the first one up. “My leg!”
“Sorry, sorry–” Leng’s stuttering came from behind the bathroom door–evidently, he’d just flung it open onto her outstretched ankle. “I had no clue where you were, Xue, and you did not answer when I called your name, so… I feared something had happened to you.”
“Ow…” Xue recoiled from the tub, grabbing at her foot. “God… urgh. Sorry about that, Uncle Leng. I think I just fell asleep.”
“Well. That is a relief,” the Sarkaz sighed. He had yet to fully open the door to let himself in. “May I ask, where is our Hunter friend? He disappeared just as abruptly as you did last night.”
Last night? Xue shot a sideways glance at Caspian, one twinged with equal parts surprise and embarrassment. She held a finger to her lips, wincing at him to emphasize her desperation. Whatever for, he wondered?
“...um. Uncle Leng? What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock in the morning,” he responded smoothly. “Did you… spend all night in the bathroom?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
And then, with less confidence.
“I just came in for a bath. Yeah.”
“We are both well,” Caspian spoke up–ignoring the way Xue whirled around to shoot him the iciest glare he’d ever seen. “She has been helping me clean up.”
There was a beat of silence. The door creaked shut, until it was barely ajar. Leng let out an audible snort, and then a hmmm that lasted a few seconds too long to be innocent.
“...well!” he could imagine the Sarkaz blinking in amusement, for whatever reason. “That is a relief to hear, it is. Take good care of her.”
The door now slammed shut, just as quickly as it had opened. Caspian opened his mouth to thank Leng for his kind concern–only for Xue to blast a sheet of ice over his entire face.
“Mmm–?!”
“You goddamn idiot!” Xue lunged at him, all but jumping into the bath. She seized his head with both hands and, for lack of a better word, started shaking him like she wanted to kill him. “Oh my God– Caspian, have you any sense of delicacy whatsoever?!”
He made a futile attempt at apologizing, but his sentiments would not carry through the ice covering his mouth.
“You could have just kept quiet! AAAGH! Ah…” Xue’s rage dissolved into despondency, and she gave him a headbutt–hard enough to crack the ice. “God… do you have any idea how sketchy you made it seem?”
No?
Absolutely not… but whatever it was, Caspian decided to give up on digging out an excuse. She took one look at the stupefied, clueless look on his face, and decided that she didn’t have the energy to force it out of him. What she did have the energy to do, however, was freeze the entire tub of water solid around him and storm out of the bathroom.
Xue at least had the kindness to duck back in and throw him a shirt and pants as he struggled to fight his way out of the ice, but no more than that.
It took him more than a few minutes to stumble out of the bathtub. With one less arm to work with–his sword arm, at that–it was more difficult for the Hunter to exert himself. He doubted he could still call himself one, though. His uniform was a miserable mess to look at. His cloak had a hole punched through it, and his shirt had been practically shredded to ribbons. Caspian salvaged the medallion and wiped it clean with his fingers. That was one thing he would never leave behind.
He dressed himself in the set of clean clothes Xue had tossed him. He could always return later to get his pants and belt cleaned off, since they remained fairly intact. But otherwise… there was little left of his outfit to mark him as an Abyssal Hunter.
He sighed. It was a comparatively small price to pay in exchange for his life.
Caspian gathered up his spirits and left the washroom, where the burst of moisture from the humid bath followed him all the way down the stairs. It was there that he found Xue lugging something out of her father’s room–a bulky metal box, secured by a padlock. She saw the question in his eyes before he needed to ask her.
“...Papa’s,” she set it down on the table with a thunk. “Uncle Leng gave me the key on his behalf. Said it was as good a time as any.”
Caspian kept his distance. This was a family matter, and it would be disrespectful of him to intervene.
Click.
She unfastened the padlock and slid it aside. With a creaaak, she tugged it open.
“Oh, wow…” Xue sighed. “No way.”
She reached into it, and dug out a stack of blue paper notes. While less resplendent than the coins of Aegir, Caspian recognized their value. Xue pressed her thumb into the stack, leafing through to count her inheritance. She set that down with a thump as well, right beside the padlock.
“Urrrgh... you should’ve said something,” she gave a sad chuckle, wiping at her eyes. “God. We both suck at expressing ourselves, don’t we, Papa?”
The box contained two more items. A framed photograph, and a letter. She pocketed the photograph, patting it down into her jacket, and held the letter up to read it.
“Live free, and be happy,” she fought to keep her voice from cracking. “Your Papa loves you, Li Xue.”
She sighed, her voice trailing off into a soft whine. Caspian turned away to give her some space.
As he walked closer to the door, he picked up on a distinct chirping–as shrill and clear as the morning light itself. He remembered being startled by it when he first arrived in Jinfa. This was… fowlsong. After days of deathly silence, the fowlbeasts had returned to the village, bringing life and joy in their wings. They bathed in the warmth of the sun, and sang in merry choruses that carried even into the dusty old house. A house that had loved him dearly. Caspian acknowledged that he would be sad to leave it behind. As much as he acknowledged Jinfa as a second home… he was unsure if he could truly remain here for the rest of his life.
He placed his hand on the doorknob.
“What? Don’t act like you’re going off on your own.”
“Hm?” the Aegir turned back to stare at her.
Xue was busy tidying up her purse–slipping in both her inheritance money and her father’s final letter. She gestured behind her at the pile of luggage.
“Someone’s got to help me with this, right?”
Even with one arm? What a cruel mistress she was. But more than that, Caspian frowned at her proposal.
“You wish to… take me to Shangshu?”
As much as she’d prattled on about it, Caspian had always assumed it was her future. Her dream, and her thriving career in the big Yanese city.
“Yup! You’re coming with me, Caspian!”
Never, for one second, had he considered that he would–or could–be a part of it. But then again, he hadn’t so much as given an ounce of thought to life after the Jinfa incident. He’d never believed he would have a life after the Jinfa incident.
Xue didn’t seem to notice him being frozen in shock. Or perhaps it was precisely because she knew he was hesitating that she shoved one of her suitcases into his grip. Tied to the handle was a cloth sack–a last minute addition to her packing list. He only had to peer into it to see the teapot, along with all its little teacups, cushioned generously by more clothes that she couldn’t bring herself to part with.
“I didn’t take a single photo of the Tar. Nobody’s going to believe my scoop if I show up with just my notes. That’s why I need you as an eyewitness! A bona fide Abyssal Hunter, fresh out of Aegir!”
“I am… not exactly fresh.”
“Oh, shut up, you,” Xue slung another bag around his neck.
She was intent on taking him along on her journey, and it was hard to deny that her obstinate enthusiasm was contagious. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the bright-eyed chatterbox he’d woken up to on the first day. It was refreshing to see her unbound–free from the shackles that had chained her heart for years. Even if this was the price she had to pay.
“But other than that, I just know you’ll love Shangshu,” Xue zipped up her purse. “Even after our scoop, I’ll make sure you stick around, okay?”
“Ah. I see,” he scratched his head, still trying to come to terms with the revelation that he was about to lead a new life altogether–as a civilian.
The very notion had him daring to dredge up all manner of fickle felicity from the corners of his mind; ideas, wishes, and desires that he had kept suppressed for his entire life as a soldier. Maybe a degree in literature was not beyond his grasp.
It was not just Xue who was diving head-first into newfound freedom. Perhaps the lights and sights of Shangshu would overwhelm him. Or, perhaps, he would grow to enjoy it. He saw no harm in trying.
“In that case… I would be happy to accompany you, Xue.”
She stepped forward, grabbing his hand with hers. She flashed him a beaming smile, with all the radiance and promise of the morning sun upon the sea.
“So? Shall we get going?”
“If the lady so insists,” Caspian returned her smile, and opened the door for her. “Then I have no objections.”
“Don’t make me smack you again, fancy fish man.”
Together, they stepped out of the house into the sparkling light of a new day. A fresh, hopeful breeze blew in from the coast, carrying the salty scent of home.
Ah, but home was everywhere. Home was anywhere–as long as they had each other to lean on.
THE END