Work Text:
before;
Among the people of the Xianzhou there are tales of the beauty of the High Elder of the Vidyadhara. He’s described as ethereal, beast and human at once, for there are horns protruding from the crown of his head and an aquamarine tail winding down his legs, the latter only visible during combat.
Yingxing has seen the Vidyadhara and while they were unfamiliar at first, he has long since become used to their appearance. Some even visit the Artisanship Commission with requests. While their appearance may differ so does that of the Foxian people.
When Baiheng wishes to introduce him to Yinyue-jun, Yingxing agrees. Whenever she comes back to this corner of the galaxy, she drops by to see him. Yingxing considers her his closest friend. He is happy to fulfill a wish for her.
His master tells him of what an honor this is.
“Yinyue-jun is rarely seen among the Vidyadhara, much less among us. His duties keep him busy. Apparently he was chosen to be the High Elder before his birth and has since then received the education and instructions necessary for his position.”
Yingxing wonders what it is like to be born into your future. To have no choice in the course of your life.
It’s so vastly different from his own life.
If it weren’t for the attack on his homeland, he never would have become a craftsman. Merely the thought of revenge drove him to choose to forge the weapons that would prevent such a tragic fate for others.
Baiheng instructs him to dress in his most formal attire.
“He isn’t much for formality among friends but it would make a better impression on the Preceptors. Their eyes are always on him.”
So he dresses himself with care. Baiheng is the one to work on his hair since he usually only makes sure it’s out of his face, uncaring of the visual result.
“Look at you,” Baiheng says as they leave for their meeting, “You’ve grown into such a handsome man. Has it been so long since we first met?”
He laughs. “For me, it has been a long time. For you, maybe not so much.”
She pushes him good-naturedly while making sure he doesn’t lose his balance. He pushes back and that is how they spend the rest of their way.
When he finally sees the High Elder in person, he can only listen to Baiheng’s introductions as he takes everything in.
The High Elder of the Vidyadhara has to look up to meet his eyes, his entire demeanor cool and reserved. A thin silver chain rests on his dark hair, serving as the only decoration on his person. Most of his pale skin is hidden beneath layers upon layers of robes, his collar high and his hands gloved.
And yet he is the most beautiful creation Yingxing will ever see.
“Yingxing?” The High Elder’s voice is deep. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your craftsmanship.”
Yingxing stutters momentarily before catching himself. “Good things, I hope.”
Their meeting ends once dusk sets. As Yingxing is readying himself for his return to the Artisanship Commission, the High Elder approaches him alone, just after Baiheng's departure.
“Yingxing.”
He waits until he’s certain of Yingxing’s attention.
“You may call me Dan Feng.”
-
No one bothers him in his prison as Dan Feng awaits the final verdict.
Considering all the turmoil his actions have caused, it is to be expected. The calmness he feels now as he tries to systematically estimate how many have been hurt, how many have died because of him is a stark contrast to the grief and horror that ran its course through his veins mere hours ago. Maybe it’s acceptance of what is to come, of what he rightfully deserves.
Before he was left alone to his self-loathing, he was offered a change of clothes. A first for the Shackling Prison. Then again, never before has there been a Vidyadhara in these cells. In all his years as the High Elder, Den Feng has never set foot inside this place that reeks of almost-death and hopelessness. There was never a need for him to lower himself to witness the miserable end that the Abundance has bestowed upon the long-life species of the Xianzhou. Not when he is the scion of the Aeon of Permanence.
Dan Feng scoffs as he is struck by the question of how long he will remain so.
The clothes begin to feel uncomfortable. The dried blood —for he is certain there are stains he missed— irritates his skin, makes him want to rip the layers off his body and wash himself in the waters that he swore to protect but he remains seated, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes closed, a perfect picture of idyll. The Xianzhou honored his past conduct until today by letting him pretend to be the honorable person that he was before today.
At least he won’t meet his fate in ripped fabric that is stained with the proof of his deed.
It’s ironic that Dan Feng is so bothered by his own clothes that he barely takes notice of the chains they have secured around him. It’s a new sensation for him, entirely unfamiliar but easy to accustom himself to. The joke in this truly meaningless gesture is that Dan Feng has no reason to escape. They could have left him unchained and he would still silently await his end. He has already done the unspeakable and is ready to face their retribution. Nothing could stop him if he truly wanted to escape, if he left the Xianzhou Luofu and fled into the endless abyss of the stars that Baiheng always loved chasing.
Dan Feng feels a new wave of grief overcome him.
Baiheng.
Beautiful, tenacious, vivid Baiheng.
In her last moment she offered him a smile, so sure of the victory that would follow her sacrifice.
Jing Yuan had been the one to retrieve her body, his face stained with tears, a scream of pure agony leaving his lips after gently placing her body before the remains of their mismatched family.
Yingxing stood next to Dan Feng, a solid presence, their arms with their matching bracers brushing against another. Their grief was much quieter.
It had struck Dan Feng as incomprehensible that Jing Yuan was kneeling before Baiheng’s cold body, plagued by endless sobs, whereas Jingliu merely watched in silence, her expression cold.
Hours later and he knows what it means to be the cause of your soul mate’s passing.
Jingliu will know by now what Dan Feng has done. She will never forgive him for desecrating the memory of Baiheng.
-
When he finally receives a visitor, Dan Feng longs for his solitude again.
Jing Yuan’s appearance clearly aims to deceive. There’s the necessary armor that is expected of a lieutenant, a dark coat draped over his shoulders. His hair has been neatly tied into a ponytail by a crimson band. But his attire cannot conceal the fear and heartbreak in his face, clear to see.
Dan Feng is suddenly reminded of how Jing Yuan is their youngest. Not so much in his years because, Aeons, Yingxing’s kind can barely pass the century mark (would his Yingxing have lived that long for him?) and yet they all had doted on Jing Yuan with pure adoration.
“Dan Feng,” Jing Yuan says, voice hoarse with the barest hint of instability.
Jing Yuan deserves better. They all did.
“Were you crying until now, A-Yuan?” He hopes to ease the situation. It doesn’t work.
Jing Yuan flinches at the familiar address and his coat follows the movement, flowing to the side to reveal his hand. There is a scroll in his hand, the seal already ripped open.
He isn’t here to visit him.
He is here to judge him for his sins.
Dan Feng is at a loss for words.
“Out of all the people, why you?” he finally manages.
Jing Yuan steels himself, visible in the way he forces his frame to stand straighter and his chin up to meet Dan Feng’s questioning gaze.
“There is no one else left, Dan Feng.”
“I don’t understand.”
Jing Yuan steps closer.
Something’s wrong and Dan Feng cannot place what it is.
Everything should be clear. He broke the divine laws of his ilk. He is the villain and will face justice for all the lives he took. The elders of his kin are to sentence him.
“Jing Yuan, what have you done?” There is a slight panic in his voice now.
He looks so unfathomably tired.
They just lost Baiheng and now not even her body is left to them. There was no soul-soothing ceremony, nothing to honor her death before Dan Feng ruined everything.
“I asked for this respite.”
“This respite?”
A sigh.
“Before your interrogation.”
“But my sentence-”
Jing Yuan interrupts him. “It will follow, Dan Feng. This is the only concession I was allowed before the elders come for you.”
He steps closer to Dan Feng and lowers himself.
“Feng ge,” he says, reminiscent of his younger years, “I’m here because I owe you this much and I wish not to read you the words of another. You are my family.”
He places his hand above Dan Feng’s own hand, still balanced on his knee, and squeezes.
“Yingxing is missing.”
In the archives, one short-life species described the Vidyadhara as the rulers of weather and water, fascinated by their ability to stay afloat among the clouds, by their parting of the seas. This species had no means of rising into the skies without technical aides and even then they would be encased in metal, never able to touch the air in the heights that the Vidyadhara ascended to. Instead some individuals even experienced a peculiar sensation which they called vertigo. They feared the loss of solid grounding and exceeding heights which affected their vision and sense of balance.
Dan Feng thinks this is what vertigo must feel like, robbed of your footing and stability, on the brink of tipping into the yawning chasm of the unknown.
He moves before his thoughts have a chance to catch up: he buries his hands in Jing Yuan’s clothes and pulls at him, trying to find something to hold onto.
“Yingxing,” Dan Feng gasps, pained and desperate, “Yingxing, what happened to Yingxing?”
Jing Yuan moves his hands to settle around Dan Feng’s shoulders, gently presses him back to sit down without much success.
“Dan Feng, calm down, Jingliu, she-”
Power surges through Dan Feng in a rush and his shackles tremble once before cracking open, unable to fulfill their purpose. His skin gives way to scales, rough and much more durable than the human mimicry. A current crackles between his thorns and his fingers bury themselves deeper until he can hear the telltale sound of fabric ripping beneath his claws.
“Dan Feng!”
Jing Yuan tears himself away and watches in horror as Dan Feng’s form loses its humanity.
“My beloved,” he growls, howls, sobs. “My beloved Yingxing.”
Jing Yuan attempts to speak once more but the door to Dan Feng’s prison is ripped open and all hell breaks loose.
-
His respite is over. He is subdued much faster than he anticipated and for the first time he realizes that his sin has left its mark on him.
As the elders have him moved, he hears Jing Yuan furiously arguing against the elders. They do not listen.
Instead they burrow those cursed nails deep into him, their sharp tips passing through skin-scale-muscle and finding their home in his bones and organs. There are chains again, stronger this time, and they hold him aloft as they question him.
Dan Feng stays silent.
Instead his heart aches and bleeds and yearns for its other half.
He hears the waters of Scalegorge Waterscape, the raging tides disregarding the moon to ravage the sacred lands, rocking Dan Feng into a fitful dream.
-
He dreams of a smile that grows wider as more folds settle into the skin.
He dreams of dark hair graying until there is more white than color.
He dreams of capable hands, their calluses increasing as burn scars and cuts settle into the skin.
He hears his voice, not yet settled into the deep timbre that would follow puberty. Hears it again as vows are said, lifetimes promised, jade pendants sealed with their essences.
-
He wakes and the interrogation continues once more.
“How dare you defile the Transmutation Arcanum?”
“Where is the dragon heart?”
Dan Feng closes his eyes.
-
Once upon a time, there were five individuals.
People would call them a team, a group of friends and companions, colleagues even. But these words failed to encompass what these five individuals meant to one another.
It began with the swordswoman. No one could face her sword for her strength and speed were unparalleled, her gift for the blade continuously honed through sheer tenacity. But such a powerful existence bore loneliness. So the swordswoman decided to search for the likes of her.
The pilot’s head was always looking up, up, up towards the sky for her true love were the stars and planets that waited for her. Deep inside, she longed to belong but nothing and no one had been able to earn her loyalty the way her dear stars had.
The craftsman, then still just a boy, was the sole heir to a homeland that was no more. So he swore to become the apparatus that would craft weapons for the awaiting soldiers. He wished for no child to remain without their blood and earth, the way he had.
The dragon was born into immense power. He was made to protect and defend, for it was his purpose to serve his kin, his back bent to shield his kind. The dragon was sacred and so the people forgot that the dragon had a human heart.
The lion tamer chose the wooden sword and sealed his prophecy. He undertook his training and the lion tamer became the lieutenant destined to defy his family's wishes for all his life. The lieutenant trained and trained and searched for the meaning of his love for the blade.
At last, the five individuals came together to become, not companions or warrior-in-arms, but instead a family that would eradicate their loneliness.
-
Dan Feng wakes and is alone.
All he can do is wait.
And wait.
-
A pair of hands weaves hair streaked with white into a neat braid.
“There’s more now.”
“More?”
“More white.”
A chuckle.
“I am aging every day. I hope you can forgive this old man for losing his beauty.”
“You think you’re losing your beauty? Do I not show you my appreciation each night?”
A light slap to reprimand, followed by embarrassment.
“Last night was not that long ago, please stop.”
“Let this Lord enjoy his husband’s presence in this life.”
Wine sloshing as it is poured.
“A drink to my aging beloved. May you find me once more in another lifetime.”
A single laughter follows as two cups clink together.
“A-xing?”
“I will.”
Clothing rustles, skin meets skin. The wine lays there, forgotten.
“I will find you. I promise to give myself to you. In this life and my next. For as long as you will have me.”
A soft gasp.
“And if it’s every single one?”
A kiss placed on the back of a hand.
“Then I will spend each as Yinyue-jun’s consort. So that he will never have to be alone as he drinks the moon.”
-
Dan Feng wakes.
The judges come.
They want his death.
His Yingxing is still missing.
-
For the first time he dreams of the day the end of everything began.
Defeating Shuhu took its toll on all of them. Even Dan Feng wasn’t able to retain his usual magnificence as the High Elder, untouchable and celestial. Instead his armor is cracked, his breastplate barely held together. There is blood, so much blood, soaked into his clothes, smeared onto his skin. He doesn’t know whose blood it is, not that it matters. His body had continuously healed itself during the battle; the injuries he sustained already knitted closed, the bones he broke set straight. He has no memory of the physical pain, his mind focused on a different agony.
Defeating Shuhu took Baiheng.
She has already passed on, her body cold, and only Yingxing and Dan Feng are there to honor her in death. In a better life, it would be all four of them. In a better life, there would be no burial.
As Dan Feng works, he ignores the dragon heart inside him. It speaks to him, is vicious in its demands. A Foxian may never taint our sacred grounds. Dan Feng almost revels in how simple it is to silence the voice.
A martyr has rightfully been entombed in their sacred grounds. That is all there is to it.
He looks at Yingxing, bruised and bloody, beloved and breathing. There is a sword in Yingxing’s hands and for once he is in a stance to wield it. Jingliu always insisted he hone his skills more if he was already so adept at forging weapons but Yingxing would always laugh and say that he had no need for it. His family would be enough to protect him. At the time, he was already wearing the hairpin that signified his engagement to Dan Feng. Now here he is, ready to risk his life for the protector of the Vidyadhara.
And yet Dan Feng has failed to protect so many.
War takes and takes, its gluttony for bloodshed and rampage consuming them all until it will consume the world.
Dan Feng finally rises and meets Yingxing’s eyes.
“Shuhu is dead…” Yingxing’s words, damning them all.
There is a solution and he is the one privy to it. What are the rules of his kin to all the lives saved, to a vision of peace, to the promise of a sanctuary?
The dragon heart takes over, displacing his self. Dan Feng, the High Elder, ceases to exist and is merely able to watch as Yingxing dies and resurrects. His hair darkens, his skin smoothens and his wounds heal, leaving behind scars. It’s grotesque to Dan Feng whose skin has never been marred by any proof of vulnerability. The scream of agony that leaves Yingxing’s scarlet stained lips is both his death and rebirth.
(It’s his curse, it’s his curse, Dan Feng cursed his beloved-)
In the end, all that is left of Baiheng is another sacrifice; blood and hair on the sacred grounds.
-
Dan Feng wakes.
Jing Yuan comes to visit him at last. He looks tired, dark shadows beneath his eyes and a sharpness to his jaw that ages him.
“I could not bear to lose another friend,” he admits.
Dan Feng cannot follow. Days have passed. He knows nothing beyond these walls.
“I pushed for negotiations. There will be no execution.”
Jing Yuan’s eyes are glassy but he does not cry.
“This is the last time we will meet like this.”
Dan Feng’s brain catches up at last, stringing words into sentences and placing those into a context. The verdict is merciful and unforgiving.
After days of silence, his voice cracks on his first word when he begins to beg.
“Jing Yuan, what about Yixing? What about my husband?”
He trashes against his restraints, tries to free himself.
“Dan Feng, he’s gone, you have to think of yourself! Jingliu took him away, we don’t know where he is or what has happened to him. There is nothing you can do for him.”
But this isn’t about Dan Feng. It’s about Yingxing. It has always been about Yingxing, in this life and every other that will follow.
“I did this to him, I killed him, I brought him back, I cannot leave him alone, I can’t reincarnate-”
The sobs that wreck Dan Feng’s body are painful, his entire torso moving in his effort to fill his lungs with air.
Jing Yuan has to know what this means.
A forced reincarnation cycle will affect his everything; his body, his memory, his self.
There is no guarantee that he will remember Yingxing.
after;
Jing Yuan gifts Dan Heng four things on the day that his status as a prisoner is revoked.
“They’re not gifts,” Jing Yuan says, rolling his eyes. “They belong to you.”
Dan Heng raises an eyebrow. In the years since his reincarnation, he’s grown used to Jing Yuan and his regular visits. Yet he failed to mention that he was allowed to keep anything from his past incarnation.
They pass multiple rooms until they arrive in what Dan Heng assumes must be Jing Yuan’s office. There are already soldiers lined up, ready to escort him away into his exile. Among them there is a youth, blonde hair tied up neatly. The general doesn’t pay them any mind, shoving Dan Heng into the room and closing the doors for good measure.
“Will I die now? Very anticlimactic if you ask me.”
“I could have done that just as well inside the prison, now shut up.”
To Dan Heng’s astonishment a spear is placed before him, the first character of his name engraved on it.
“You had this made for me?”
“Off to a wonderful start, I see. Nope, I didn’t.”
A bracer follows. (“Don’t they come in pairs?”)
Then a phone. (“I’m deleting your number, why would I need it if I’m exiled anyways?”)
At last, a piece of jade is dropped into his hand. It’s beautiful, artfully crafted. The surface is smooth and cool to his touch.
“A jade pendant?”
The moment he voices this, Dan Heng’s entire demeanor shifts. Gone is the expression of apathy he forces everyday. Instead he lets his hesitation show.
“But I’m not Dan Feng,” he tells Jing Yuan.
“And he isn’t Yingxing. Not anymore. I told you everything I know. It’s up to you whether you wish to use the jade pendant or not.”
Dan Heng hums.
“I’m not sure but I might remember some of Dan Feng. He was crying. Because of you.”
Jing Yuan chuckles.
“You’re mistaken. How would I make the High Elder of my time shed tears?”
“He was begging for this, I think. To make sure he would find… that other man.”
Dan Heng has yet to speak his name, a fact that both men are aware of.
“But you’re not him, right?”
Dan Heng doesn’t react to this, waiting for a proper answer.
Jing Yuan sighs and places a hand on his desk.
“At the time, I felt like it was the right thing to do,” he amends. “Dan Feng was in so much pain, haunted by what he had done. I wanted you to have the choice of receiving that burden. Which meant that I had to take his choice away in turn.”
Dan Heng nods, his fingers tracing the patterns on the jade.
“I don’t have any memories of this man,” he finally admits into the quiet. “I don’t know who it is that my former self loved.”
Jing Yuan nods and Dan Heng is surprised by how hurt he seems by his words.
“I am not him,” he says once again.
“I know, Dan Heng, better than you think. I’m the only person in our cosmos who had the honor of meeting you in two lifetimes.”
Dan Heng doesn’t scoff but the breath he lets out is a near thing. “You think it’s an honor?”
“I have cherished you each time. I hope you will be happier than he was.”
Dan Heng hesitates at this. “I don’t think he was unhappy. His beginning and end were but in between there was genuine joy.”
Jing Yuan motions towards the doors, clearly troubled by his words.
“One last thing. Uhm. General.” Dan Heng rubs the back of his neck and turns back one last time. “I want to thank you for your visits. I appreciated them.”
“Take care, Dan Heng. Make sure not to show your face around here.”
-
The husk of who was once Yingxing finds Dan Heng two months later.
-
That same night his nightmares begin.
The beginning is always identical.
A heavy sword has impaled his leg, his own weapon turned against him as his assailant pushes the shaft against his neck, effectively cutting off the airflow to his trachea. Crimson eyes are locked onto his own, watching with rapt attention as he struggles.
Most of the time Dan Heng panics enough to fail and so he loses the fight, his movements slowing, black spots dancing in his vision, his breathing ceasing.
Other times he manages to free himself. A hidden knife in his sleeve that he viciously stabs into his assailant’s eyes, a sudden bout of adrenaline that gives him enough strength to push him aside. Enough to escape that haunting gaze.
And once the night terror changes entirely. The assailant throws the spear aside, the hand wrapped in bandages raised to his face. Dan Heng thinks he will tear him apart by hand but instead he feels gentle fingers guide his chin. Dan Heng’s terror leaves him incapable of moving, of using this chance.
His assailant smiles. It looks entirely wrong on his face.
“I have found you in this lifetime, my beloved, as I promised.”
And then he closes the distances between them, presses his lips to Dan Heng’s own, and Dan Heng wraps his arms around his neck, the sword still stuck in his bleeding leg, and he kisses him back.
This last iteration of his nightmares is the most daunting to Dan Heng.
-
He lands on a planet that has water and immediately looks for a beach. The inhabitants are kind and point him to the closest one. They’re even happier when he buys an entire new set of clothing, including underwear and shoes, but he merely shoves everything into his travel bag, ignoring his dwindling money.
He waits for night to settle and the moon to rise before he makes his way to the beach. It’s not a sand beach. Instead the entirety of the shore is stones and algae which means that he has to be careful not to slip as he makes his way to the water.
The waves lap against his shoes and he immediately removes them, feeling the cold seep into him.
He isn’t sure why he uses the spear. He has a dagger that would make it much easier. Yet it stays inside his bag as he holds his hair and slices once with Cloud-Piercer. He nicks one of his ears in the process but the cut isn’t too deep. The immediate difference is astonishing. His head feels lighter.
He throws the remaining hair out into the waves. It’s not the waters in Scalegorge Waterscape but it will have to do.
Dan Heng raises his hand to where he cut himself. Decides that the ears and horns are too obvious, an easy hint to his origin. They, too, must go.
Finally, his clothes. He slides his dagger into his new boots, then gets his lighter out and burns everything old. The fuel he bought to douse them cost him more than he could afford but it’s worth the satisfaction of watching it all be consumed by the flames until there is only ashes left, to be blown away by the wind.
He hopes Dan Feng will leave him alone now.
-
Dan Heng is sitting on the floor of the archives, in the middle of wrapping gauze around his leg which proves to be a mistake.
“His name is Blade,” Himeko announces, entering with two cups of tea. “At least that’s what one of the Stellaron Hunters calls him.”
He accidentally pulls too hard and lets out a quiet curse. The pain is agonizing. He hopes his stitches will hold.
“Uhm. What?”
“The lunatic chasing you across the goddamn universe. His name is Blade.”
She places one cup in front of him, the porcelain clinking against the floor. She’s the only person he knows who uses saucers. Admittedly, he doesn’t know a lot of people. The ones he has met while aboard the Astral Express are already puzzle pieces of his past, set into a picture, never to be looked at again after its completion.
“Oh, thank you,” he says belatedly, after a long silence has passed.
“Welt says that he’s trying to find out more but I doubt he can dig up much. But there’s a nice sum on his head, so if you ever want to hand him to the authorities-”
“No!”
He barely manages to avoid any spilling. He doesn’t know what this outcry was, stupefied by his own actions.
Himeko raises her brows and pushes her fiery red hair back.
“Alright then, Dan Heng.”
She says Dan Heng, not Dan Feng. That has to count for something.
-
“I’m not him,” Dan Heng spits, driving his spear deeper through Blade’s chest. He hopes he caught his heart.
“Oh, but you are.” Blade laughs before a cough overwhelms him, scarlet droplets landing everywhere. Dan Heng feels the wetness of the blood on his face. “Same face, same weapon. I’ve seen you wield this very polearm thousands of times.”
Dan Heng almost drops his weapon before steeling his resolve. He pushes further and Blade lets out a pained groan.
“If this could kill me, we wouldn’t be here.” He lets his head drop back. “It hasn’t been this simple for so long.”
And he speaks the truth. His other wounds are already closing, cuts left over from their earlier fighting. Dan Heng watches as they scab and become scars. It’s bizarre that he heals but always with a mark left behind. Only the hole in his chest remains, kept intact by Cloud-Piercer.
-
His dreams begin to change, though there are still nightmares interspersed. Instead he now dreams of waves, training grounds, maps with handwritten notes, chess boards, a furnace, and a table set for five. He can never discern the faces of the people he sees. Instead he keeps track of them by arbitrary features. A mole. Fox ears. Wrinkles around a pair of eyes. Pale hair.
Dan Heng sleeps less than three hours a day. Anything to escape what he begins to realize are his former incarnation’s memories.
-
Welt and March 7th are the ones who find him, barely conscious.
March’s shields narrowly manage to hold against the frequent blows of Blade’s sword, each blow heavier than the last, and she has no time to retaliate by firing any arrows. Dan Heng wants to pull her behind himself, keep her safe from Blade’s fury. He’s supposed to protect her, not the other way around.
But her efforts aren’t in vain. Welt manages to get to Dan Heng and as he talks and talks to keep Dan Heng with him, he manages to heave his body over his back. He drapes his arms over his shoulders before securing his hands beneath Dan Heng’s thighs.
“Dan Heng, we’ll get you help,” he says and signals to March.
Maniacal laughter follows and Dan Heng makes the mistake of looking back. There is blood from a cut on his eyebrow blocking his sight.
Blade has stopped his attacks, standing still in his motions, the arm holding his weapon outstretched and pointing straight at Dan Heng. He is enjoying this, seeing Dan Heng reduced to being carried off the battlefield.
“I will chase you through each lifetime,” he promises and Dan Heng is stumped by the sense of déjà-vu.
-
Jing Yuan contacts him once.
It’s one message, a document attached to it.
Dan Heng, it reads, this is all I have found out about Yingxing’s past for now. Again, I will leave the rest to you.
Dan Heng downloads the file. He never opens it.
-
He never tells anyone afterwards but he gets caught once during his return to the Astral Express.
He’s alone when a dozen men subdue him. He put up a good fight, injured four of them and killed one, but they still manage to tie him up before they figure out what to do with him. They had wanted to steal from him, a simple robbery, but now that he has drawn their blood, their initial plans have changed.
It’s in their midst that Blade finds him.
He must make for a pathetic image. His face is bruised and littered with cuts, his clothes torn, hands and legs bound. Cloud-Piercer is in the hands of the leader.
He’s the first who dies, a single strike of Blade’s sword to cleanly sever his head from his neck.
“That,” he says calmly, without any of his usual mania, “Is not yours.”
None of the men stand a chance. Blade disregards his own safety, letting them cut and stab and delighted by their panic when he continues on. He asks for the person who tied their prisoner and cuts off his hands. He laughs when he sees the people Dan Heng injured earlier and makes their deaths quick.
When he finishes, he turns towards Dan Heng, Cloud-Piercer in his hand.
Dan Heng feels a sudden pain in his temple and an image overlays the sight before him. Blade but dressed differently, in front of a furnace and with a smile on his face, radiating pure joy and satisfaction.
“My beloved,” Yingxing said.
“Pathetic,” Blade says and drops the weapon before him. “Were they really able to overwhelm you?”
He raises his sword and Dan Heng doesn’t fear for he knows that Blade does it to free him from the rope.
He eyes the injuries Dan Heng sustained, a frown on his face. Confusion even. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the restraints on Dan Heng’s self-healing in his human form.
In the end he merely huffs and turns around to leave first.
-
In the archives, Dan Heng finds data on the former members of the Astral Express. It’s sorted chronologically, including the name, affiliation, birthplace and an image. His attention settles on a picture of a woman of Foxian descent, her fur a light gray, a gentle smile on her lips. Her status is unknown.
Dan Heng updates it.
-
Kafka’s voice always adopts a different quality when she uses Spirit Whisper. Blade knows that it must do so for her ability to work but he’s always unsettled at first when she addresses him with the subtle difference.
He can feel her voice slowly work on the strands of mara inside his veins, untangling each thread, making her way up and down, down and up. The effect is slow to take place in his body but at least he’s spared from the memories. The sensation of their deconstruction is painful but it keeps the mara, the insanity that tears into him and forces his humanity to submit, sealed.
Missing memories are nothing new to him anyways.
His senses begin to regain their functions, quickly surpassing the level a human experiences to settle onto the monstrous sharpness that Blade has grown familiar with. His eyes focus on Kafka’s face above his own.
“Back with the living?”
"Regretfully."
He pushes her aside and tries to rise from his position only to feel the effects of the procedure take over as he loses his balance. He’s caught by Kafka’s web.
“Bladie.” There’s disapproval in her voice.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
She settles next to him and begins to systematically dismantle her firearms. Her cleaning ritual has a calming effect on Blade and he watches as her hands move swiftly.
“Are you going to talk about it?”
He’s surprised by her question. She’s always quiet during this, her concentration solely on the task at hand.
“About what?”
“The fact that you cried this time.”
“Are you lying again?”
She stretches a hand towards his face and her finger comes away wet.
Blade immediately wipes the evidence off his face.
“What’s there to talk about? The point is that I lose my memories.”
She hums, finishing the first firearm and twirling it around her index finger.
“You’re oddly sentimental, today, Kafka.”
She grins and shoots a hole right next to his ear.
“Silver Wolf will drop by in a bit,” she says before she turns back to the table, “Should I tell her to come by later or will you be up by then?”
“I’ll be up.”