updating twice this week because i'm on holiday and this chapter is written anyway. unbeta-ed so there might be minor edits in the future
Someone is calling out for me. I do not know what I am hoping for when I extend my hand.
She laces her fingers through mine and pulls me to my feet.
I blink in the darkness. There, in front of me, slowly coming into focus. Large, pale eyes curve in a smile, and a slightly off-centre bun.
I don’t say anything. I cannot, not when I’ve spent the last few weeks in agony because of her.
Guizhong reaches forward, pointer finger extended, and taps me on the nose.
I blink again, this time in disbelief. She does it once more, then stands back, hands on her hips.
‘Strange,’ she says. ‘I know who you are. But I’ve never seen you before.’
‘Guizhong.’ I hate how weak I sound.
‘The mighty Morax, willing to lower himself to the form of a human! I do have faith in you, dear, but I cannot see this happening in my lifetime. Perhaps, —’ She tilts her head. ‘I am already dead, and this is a dream.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Well,’ she says, hitching her instrument higher on her shoulder. ‘I do now.’
She looks at me, still stunned in my place. She raises an eyebrow. ‘Come now. Do you have nothing to say to me?’
I have too much to say to her. I’m sorry, I’ve missed you, I hate what you’ve put me through, but what comes out is a croaked, ‘Are you real?’
‘Well,’ she says, spreading her arms. ‘Try it out for yourself. Ah, of course you won’t. You’ve never liked me looking at you like this.’
I am too busy blinking the sting out of my eyes to pay attention to what she is saying. I can smell lilies and dew again, and for a moment, all the warmth in the world is gathered in her arms.
‘Come on now,’ she says, tugging at my arms. ‘We have to keep going.’
I allow myself to kiss the wispy strands of hair on her forehead before I pull away. She chuckles at that.
‘You’ve changed.’
‘For the better. Thanks to you.’
I do not mean to sound accusatory, but there is a certain slyness in her grin. ‘You understand now, do you?’
‘I do not think I ever will. Why you would ever choose to remember… especially when your days are so numbered.’
‘You’re almost there,’ she says. I want to sigh at that look on her face.
‘Did you call me here?’ She is beginning to walk. Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, we are standing in the middle of a dark corridor, lined with doors and unlit sconces. The plush carpet underneath our feet muffles our steps. For that I am grateful, though I cannot determine exactly why yet.
This place feels wrong, and she knows it as well. She lags back every time she realises she is too far ahead, staying next to me. A shame, that I am of no use in combat, at least not in this form. I tell her as much, and she laughs, though there is a note of nervousness in it.
‘I will try my best to avoid combat.’
She nods at me. ‘I know I should be fine.’ She lifts her hands up to her face, flexes her fingers. In the moon-like light, they look almost transparent. ‘The more I try to think about it… it’s like my mind falls apart every second I try to make sense of this. As if it is incomplete, in a sense. I am incomplete.’
She looks at me gravely.
‘You called me—what remained of me—here. That’s an interesting question, isn’t it? Am I Guizhong, or am I the image of her you have in your head?’
I shake my head, though I do not know the reason. She clicks her tongue.
‘Don’t think too hard about it. It’s making my head hurt too. The question is—why? What do you need me for?’
The song, I remember immediately, but shut it down. There are more critical things at stake now.
‘This dream,’ I begin. We step over a beam of light streaming in from a distant window. ‘It was uncharted previously, a no-man’s-land close to my domain. But as you can probably guess—’ I gesture to our surroundings. ‘I am not the only one traversing the dream.’
‘From the look on your face, I assume the invader has done something reprehensible.’
‘Two innocent people have been dragged into this realm. There was almost a third, as well.’
I can feel her looking at me curiously, but do not care to elaborate. Thankfully, she does not press for more details.
‘Do you remember coming here?’ She indicates the corridor. I shake my head.
‘Knowing you—and I mean no offence here—it’s hard for you to come up with places you’ve never been to. Am I right in assuming, then, that this comes from the mind of our invader?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Very impressive, then, that this particular domain is so stable—wait. Scratch that.’
Before either of us can say anything, the corridor in front fractures, chunks of brick and carpet suspended in the air before us. Beyond the fracture, in the distance, is something more familiar. I do not miss Guizhong’s sharp inhale.
‘Sandbearer trees,’ she breathes. ‘And this, then is yours.’
We step outside, onto yellowish grass. Blood-red leaves drift from the trees overhead, gliding past me and into the corridor—the corridor that is no longer there. When I turn around, there is nothing but more grass and trees. Apart from the wind whistling a carefree tune, the whole place is eerily silent. Guizhong notices as well when she steps onto the grass, which does not crinkle underneath her feet.
‘A strange choice for a domain,’ she mutters, more to herself than to me.
‘It wasn’t a conscious choice,’ I say. Blood-red leaves. The trees by the gate. An omen, indeed.
She opens her mouth, about to say something, but I hear it before she does.
Instinctively, I lunge forward and grab her hand. No one will take her from me, not when she has just returned. Even if it will not last, even if it is a dream.
There are three large trees surrounding our clearing, and the crunching of leaves comes from the largest one. Still holding her hand, I lean to my right to try and look behind the tree.
Peeking out from behind a bush, large blue eyes narrow in distrust.
Guizhong sees him now. Shaking herself free, she lowers herself to the ground. I have to strain my ears to hear what she is saying.
‘It’s alright,’ she says. ‘We won’t hurt you.’
The boy mutters something in response. Guizhong extends a hand, only to withdraw it immediately when the boy flinches.
‘We’re looking for a way home too,’ she says, and she sounds so kind. ‘Just like you.’
The boy’s mistrustful gaze flicks to me. With a grunt of effort, he scrambles to his feet and stands up straight. He’s tall, and from the look of his acne, he has just hit puberty.
There is something in his stance that makes me wary. Guizhong notices it too, keeping a respectful distance from the boy with the warrior’s stance, ready to pounce at the slightest hint of trickery.
‘Come on,’ she says. ‘Just follow us. I’m sure we’ll find something.’
The boy’s voice comes out in a croak. ‘Are you real?’
‘As real as you are,’ I say. Guizhong shoots me a look as the boy retreats into himself.
‘I can see you,’ he mutters. His fingers twitch, as if itching to wrap themselves around a throat. ‘I can see you. But you’re not really here.’ He’s looking at Guizhong, and I place myself in between the two of them. ‘Especially not you. What are you?’
‘Just passers-by,’ says Guizhong. The boy’s fingers twitch again.
‘Warm… too warm… Prove it,’ he says, the quaver in his voice betraying him. ‘Prove that you’re more than a memory.’
She shrugs. I barely have time to dodge out of the way as she swings her instrument forward, sits cross-legged on the floor, and plucks a string experimentally.
The boy takes one step back.
‘It’s worth a try,’ she says at the look on my face. ‘It worked on Xiao, it’s really not a stretch to assume the same here.’
And then she puts her hands to the strings and begins to play.
If my body had been vaporised, torn to shreds by the intense heat of those stars on the end of the boy’s fishing hook, I do not think I would have noticed. She has captured the strands of my soul around her long, graceful fingers, intertwining it with the strings, keeping me twined with her guqin forever. And I am honoured, honoured by that thought: that I would be hers and hers alone to keep.
It takes all my willpower to remember where I am, and what I am here to do.
The boy doesn’t relax, though there is a note of curiosity in his stance. He is trying to look over my shoulder, at her. I don’t want to let him, not when I have her so close to me. But if it reassures him…
I move slightly to the side. The boy’s shoulders droop, and he sways slightly on his feet.
‘What is that sound?’ he asks.
I am about to answer, but Guizhong’s playing comes to an abrupt stop, the last dissonant note echoing throughout the clearing. She’s looking at the boy, who in turn is looking over his shoulder.
And then I hear it.
Cracking, groaning. Like the icebergs, but now close enough to hurt. The boy remains where he is, even as the floor before him crumbles into darkness, revealing the stars underneath.
‘Let’s go,’ I say. Guizhong doesn’t need telling twice, swinging her instrument over her shoulder and bolting in the opposite direction. The boy doesn’t move, staring at the expanse of the void as it laps at his feet, viscous. Like a dark ocean.
‘Let’s go,’ I say again, more firmly, going to grab the boy by the shoulder. He doesn't resist, letting me lead him in an almost dreamlike state.
The clearing crumbles behind us as we leave it, into the forest of trees with blood red leaves—the trees fall, carpeting the ground and forming into stone—the ground is a carpet of leaves again, and my feet are sinking into the ground.
Then, salvation as a hand thrusts itself in front of me. I look up to see Guizhong, perched on a platform of brick that floats above the crumbling ground. I let her pull the boy up first before following, stepping onto the platform not a moment too soon.
The ground gives out from below me, pieces breaking and collapsing. And from below them, the dark ocean surges, the stars in its belly twinkling. Eyes upon eyes staring up at us, promising to devour us sooner or later. After all, it had already conquered the stars.
Beside me, the boy lets out a shaky breath. It takes me a moment to realise it is out of excitement.
The boy stares into the darkness, eyes the same lightlessness as the void. He reaches out from the platform, his fingertips skimming the surface of the water.
I watch in horror as his hands blacken, nails elongating into claws.
~~~
I come to when Guizhong taps me on my shoulder. ‘Let’s keep going,’ she says.
I stand up, and she is already walking down another corridor, barely connected to our platform by a bridge. This time, its sconces are lit, and I can see the colour of the carpet that lines it. Blood red.
I hear footsteps behind me. I sigh, turn to the boy. ‘You should go home, young man. This is no place for a boy.’
‘I’m not a boy,’ he says, flexing his claws. ‘And I have no home.’
‘What are you, then?’
He says nothing, though a shadow darts across his eyes.
‘I am… a hunter.’ He stands up to his full height. I take in his frazzled appearance, the torn clothes, and the stance of a wounded animal. ‘They promised me prey.’
‘And who, pray tell, would do that?’
He shoves past me to reach the corridor. I feel myself hiss softly as I go after him.
‘Is this your dream?’ I ask him.
He looks directly at me. Before I can stop him, he is driving the tip of his claw through the skin of his arm. I look on, paralysed, as he watches his own blood drip onto the ground, perfectly blending with the red.
‘Not a dream,’ he says. ‘It’s real.’
‘What’s happened to you,’ I say under my breath, then louder, ‘Ajax?’
He flinches. I do not have the chance to explain myself further before he takes off, following in Guizhong’s footsteps.
When I catch up to Guizhong, she’s looking from me to the boy curiously. I take her arm.
‘I think I know what is happening,’ I say to her, keeping my voice low. ‘I can explain, we just have to get away from him—‘
‘I’m not leaving him on his own,’ she says sharply. ‘Whatever you think is so important, we can do it after we get him to safety.’ Her voice softens. ‘He’s a child, Morax. Whatever’s happening to him is probably more terrifying for him than for us.’
Her gaze flicks quickly to his claws. The boy is crouching low on the ground, ear pressed to the ground. He notices me watching and looks up at me, a small smile curving his lips.
He makes a gesture with his hands. Watch.
Guizhong’s hand finds mine as he lifts his claws to his neck.
We can do nothing but watch as his claws lacerate his skin and begin to peel.
I have watched butterflies shed their pupae, growing into the form that has become the subject of so many poems and songs. The director kept them once in a box in her office, documenting each and every step of their development, more out of boredom than anything else. Most of them managed to grow to their adult forms, with their jewel-like wings and almost romantic fragility. Yet there was one chrysalis that refused to hatch, staying as it was and slowly wearing out the director’s patience. I had suggested that perhaps it had already died in its pupal form, and the director took a pair of scissors to the wretched thing, already rotting at its edges.
I had expected death in the usual sense; a dried-out corpse ready for collecting, then burial. What spilled out instead was rot in its purest sense. A foul-smelling liquid, pooled onto the mahogany of the director’s desk, and in the middle of it, a squishy, half-formed thing. Neither caterpillar nor butterfly, a soft, split-open body, parts of its rudimentary legs drifting in the liquid that was the rest of it. Not ready, I had said to the director, who had inclined her head in respect towards the wretched thing. It’s not something we are supposed to see.
What crawls out of Ajax’s skin can only be compared to that. Half-formed, I think numbly as his neck splits open and his ribs tear out of his skin. He shakes off the skin on his arms as if they are nothing but clothes, breathing heavily as his legs elongate.
‘You see, father?’ He does not speak, but I hear him all the same. ‘This is what has happened to me.’
Guizhong places her hand on my arm. I tear my gaze away from the boy-turned-monster to look at her. Where I expect to find fear is instead pity.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ she says. The boy growls, claps a clawed hand over his face, now covered in a tough exoskeleton. ‘We’ll get you home.’
The boy rasps out a response through his vocal cords, torn beyond recognition. ‘I can’t go home.’
Guizhong’s vice grip on my arm prevents me from leaving, not out of fear, but of sheer discomfort. This creature should have been majestic: its violet carapace, the pure white of its ribs and claws, the curve of its horns, the single eye in the middle of its face, light-devouring and depthless. Yet… it is so small, barely taller than I am. Barely a newborn, a child that can do nothing about its cursed growth but cry. Or at least I think it is crying. The hiccuping, strained sounds coming from under its mask sound almost like laughter in the confines of the corridor.
Guizhong finally lets go of my arm, and before I can object, she is standing before the boy, hand outstretched. ‘We’ll find you a home.’
For a moment, everything stops. The boy’s sobs fade into sniffles, and he lowers both arms to the ground. Guizhong stands on her tiptoes, attempting to grab his mask.
The boy flinches away, turns tail, and runs.
Guizhong remains standing there, hand closing around nothing. I stay silent, letting her think. Her lips are pursed in a way that suggests conflict.
Finally she turns to me and sighs.
‘Do you know him?’
I hesitate, then nod.
‘Let’s go find him.’
The gap where we came through is nowhere to be seen. The corridor is back, with its doors and windows set too high for light to penetrate. As we walk, the sconces extinguish themselves behind us, as if determined to force us in one direction.
I suggest trying a door at one point, tiring of the endless monotony. Guizhong tugs on the one closest to her, its brass doorknob set in dark wood. The doorknob creaks underneath her grip, then crumbles.
‘What does this mean?’ I hear her mutter to herself. The door responds by melting away, its wood fading into the smooth stone of the wall.
‘Wait,’ I say, reaching out to grab her hand when she continues walking forward. ‘Something’s not right.’
She realises it too: the faint moonlight that previously streamed through the windows was now too bright, yet still too dim to be considered sunlight. I tilt my head back. Stars. So many of them, clustering around the glass like moths to a lamp.
Distracted by their blazing light, I do not see the darkness behind them until it is too late. Something cracks—the glass—and Guizhong is pulling me down the corridor as the dark sea spills in from the top of the room.
I do not blame it, I think, as shattered glass rains down upon me and the sea sweeps me away. This is its nature; it lives to devour.
Guizhong’s hand closes around mine. I blindly reach for her with my other hand, grabbing her flowing sleeve. If I am to be consumed, then let us face nothingness together. She seems to understand, holding on so tightly that her nails begin to dig into my wrist.
Something is crawling up my sleeve, something with pairs and pairs of legs. I do not have time to remember the centipede before something heavy swings into the back of my head, my consciousness fading into the dark.