Once, Western dragons scorched the world. Now, they’re almost extinct. But the woman who killed them? She’s here, climbing my tower.

That woman was my friend, once upon a time. Her name is Hui Long. 

I watch her now as she scales my abode. Her hair is stark white for she is now a full-fledged child of spirits and the holder of the nine Eastern dragons. She had called to me from afar earlier, waving before making the climb. My legs dangle from the bone-antler precipice of the tower. Eternally consigned to this place has driven me mad. Such is my punishment for insubordination against my clan. ‘Insubordination’. I did it for her. I stole the Dragon Blade, the Scaled Nodachi, for her to use. And use it she did, trekking across the continents after her escape from our clan, hounding the Western Dragons. And what did I get? The task of guarding our orange pillar, the daemon watchtower of Clan Adachi. Alone for fifteen years. Fifteen. Long. Years. 

Safe to say, I grew a little bitter. 

Hui reaches her hand up. I grasp it, pulling her onto the antler outlook, the wind swaying us ever-so slightly. Off-balance she stumbles into me, nearly knocking us both off had it not been for my bare feet clinging to the grooves of the antlers, keeping us steady. 

“It is good to see you Raiten,” she says. Despite all the rage swirling in my heart, her face, her smile… it melts away my bitterness for a brief moment. 

“I hear you have become quite the hero,” I say, doing my best not to return the smile. 

She shakes her head, straightening herself. “No. I have become quite the fool actually.” 

“Ah so nothing has changed.” 

“You could say that I suppose.” 

We both chuckle lightly at that notion. The sun peeks over the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the whites glistening, the gaps between the branches of Giant’s trees glowing, the horizon exploding with color and waves of light. The world itself celebrates the dawns now -- thanks again to Hui Long’s many escapades. 

“I might have the frozen dragon in my arsenal, but I still get chilly. Shall we enter your abode?” Hui asks. I nudge my head, motioning for her to follow me into the small orange house of wood and stone, magic and bone. She trails her hand along the hard grooves of the walls as I stir the stew pot over the fireplace, smelling its salts and adding more kimchi and garnish. 

“This is…” Hui trails off, looking around the interior. One futon in the corner, one stew pot held over the eternal flame, one torch stump hanging along the right wall, two windows, open and whistling with frigid air, assaulting them, assaulting him, endlessly. 

“Cozy?” I ask. 

“Horrible. What have they done to you Raiten? Why… just for helping me?” 

‘Well what did you expect? Did you expect that I would get a slap on the wrist and let off? I wasn’t born a noble little daughter like you, I was born a bastard and a concubine’s son and my mother was never married and she was killed and I was beaten broken bruised cheated mauled for my entire childhood until you, only you, stood up for me once and me and my foolish little youthful heart fell in love and whenever you talked about yourself and your dreams and your cute little aspirations of saving the world I listened and imagined a future where I went alongside you, riding horses, killing daemons and dragons but then when it came time to deliver I did my duty… I gave you everything because that sword is everything and what did you do?’ 

‘What did you do?’

“It was not so bad,” I say, my face a perfect little mask, hollow from years of cold, sunken from thousands of sleepless nights in the storms of Katal. 

“Are the elders still alive?” Long asks. Her face is colored by that stark rage I used to bear witness to in our childhood. She hated our clan leaders with a passion. Yet, that childhood anger was more wild and immature -- this seemed tempered and controlled, like that of a warrior’s determination. 

My anger to them was cold, washed with time. I knew they would die, either by my hand or old age. At which point either some new elder would renew my enslavement or I would be free, having wasted fifteen years of my youth, wandering the planes beyond my home at the ripe old age of twenty. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” I walk over to the torch stump on the wall and produce from its ashen insides a small, intricate amulet. Long looks at me, eyes focused on that red amulet. “They made me the Thunder Watcher.”

“I… do not understand.” 

“You need not understand,” I say, clutching the amulet now. It glows with essence as I begin to squeeze it. “But I shall ordain to you my purpose: I am slave to this tower; the wall against the beasts of the North. Whenever Giants or wyverns came trancing towards our clan, it fell upon me to slay them.” 

The amulet grows hot. Hui Long steps back. The fire crackles. 

I smile for once. It is not a smile Long likes. 

“Do you remember the day that we made our grand escape?” I ask. She nods slowly, fingers curling around her waist, where the Scaled Nodachi lays in its sheath. I should be hurt by this distrust, but I know it is warranted. A seasoned warrior can often feel the pervasiveness of another’s killing intent. 

“I called out to you,” I continue. “Told you to keep running. ‘Chase your dream!’ I yelled. What a fool I was. I should’ve screamed, ‘Save me! Help me!’ But for some reason, I expected you to do that anyways. I thought that much was implied.” 

“Raiten I---” 

“And you know what saddened me most?” The amulet breaks, shattering into red angel dust, covering my palm, seeping into my skin. It is the last of my supply for this month, imparted unto me as the Thunder Watcher. “It was the hope. I hoped you would return, even as the elder’s beat me. I hoped you would return, even as they killed my mother and cursed me with immortal enslavement. I hoped you would return for the first week. The first month. The first year. The first decade, even. I never faltered. I believed in you. 

“And then, a traveler comes and I let him pass. And he bade me news of your adventures. Your victories,” I spit. The angel dust sends waves of thunderous power flowing through my veins, like a tidal wave breaking, and I am unleashed once more upon this unfair world of mine. “He tells me he is your lover, your scout. That he has gone ahead and that you shall visit me soon. ‘Visit’. As if we were old friends, catching up.” 

And Hui Long is speechless. She does not even tingle her sword, for she looks to me, my sunken face and starved visage, with a horror beyond comprehension. And my smile widens as I gain some catharsis --- some petty, useless catharsis from that reaction alone. 

“I -- I did not know,” Hui Long finally says. “I did not know they killed your mother.” 

This takes me back. But only for a moment. The anger surges once more and sparks of crimson lightning begin forming around me, bouncing off my skin, playing off my glowing red veins. 

“You did not know? You truly have turned into a fool. Perhaps it is your spoiled upbringing that ingrained such ignorance as this --- for me, any slight against our clan was amplified to a criminal pedigree and our final escapade was my last straw. You have seen me steal rotten apples and be beaten bloody for it. When you pilfered wagyu, you were merely slapped. And still, you did not know?” 

Now Hui Long puts her hand on the white-leathered grip of the Nodachi, drawing it from its scabbard. Shaking, she holds it forward, a tear rolling down her face. 

“I am sorry you have suffered so. But please, we can talk---” 

“What did you do Hui? What did you when I gave you that sword?” 

“Please just --” 

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“I shall impart upon you the truth: you fled.” 

“Hear me out--”

“No!” I yell, lightning bursting from my fingers and striking the wall next her, shattering it and letting through the full breadth of the cold wind, whistling. “Now is not the time for words. That was one, five, ten, fifteen years ago.” Another bolt of electricity, of angelic smite, whips from the palm of my hand, striking closer to her, grazing her flesh, eliciting a searing, burning, crackling scar across her thigh. 

She does not wince. 

“Fight!” I yell. Then, I force her hand, imbuing red lightning into my legs, exploding off the ground and soaring straight into her. 

In a panic, she extends her blade forward. Right before hitting her, I create a sword of red lightning and, with one sparking slash, parry her blade away. 

There’s a metallic ZING!!! As lightning and steel create music. 

We crash. 

We fall. 

The tower’s head, the orange antlered house, becomes distant as we plummet. Entangled with her, legs locked around her waist, I raise my lightning swathed fists and reign them upon her. My sparking knuckles are buried into her face, her chest. She takes the blows —  wincing and coughing bloody phlegm. 

The ground nears. 

She finally acts, framing me off of her with one hand and knocking the hilt of her blade against the back of my head with the other. 

Stars flash in my brain. My legs go wobbly. The impact deafens sound. I disentangle, falling away from her. 

Then, with a pulse of self-inflicted lightning, my body resets. The angel dust runs thinner. My clock to kill her ticks away.

Just before hitting the ground, I lasso a thick bolt of lightning and shoot it up at the farthest gray cloud. It sticks. Just as a single drop of water in a sea elicits an expanding wave, upon impact, the lightning sends shivering sparks through the wisps of cloud, making it contract and harden ever so slightly. 

With that, I swing forth, the bolt going taut, heels grazing the ground, body arcing parabolically into the air. I let go and soar up. My eyes hunt Hui Long. 

Of course, she saves herself too. Just before impact with bare rockface, she extends her hand outward and from it, the Dragon of Wind emerges, wispy and wild. It swirls around her, whiskers long, eyes flitting, its form that of the wind taking a serpentine bodice in the sky. It has no wings like the dragons of the west -- rather it is long and fierce. And she rides it now, its tail hypnotically swaying through the air, circling me. 

The wind howls. 

A storm approaches, hailing an army of clouds and the thrum of distant thunder. 

I lasso one of those encroaching clouds, swinging towards her. She meets in the air, sword held outwards, arms shaking. 

“We don’t have to fight!” she yells. But surely, she must know this is futile. Regardless, I coil lightning into a ball and lob it towards her. She makes the mistake of trying to slice through it, only to cleave it in two. Both balls expand and explode. The lightning envelops her and the wind dragon and the two of them scream something fierce. 

The wind dragon dissipates. I don’t take this for much; it is well known the wind dragon is the weakest, meant for speed and travel. 

She plummets once more, spinning midair. I pursue, diving for her, punching three bolts her way. 

This time, she flattens her body in the air and from each of her limbs comes forth a dragon. The Dragon of Flame from her right arm, the Dragon of Ice from her sword-arm. Wood from her right leg, Darkness from her left. They coalesce now, two of them interweaving and staying small: the serpentine forms of fire and ice coil around her sword, enhancing its power. 

The wood dragon takes the bolts of lightning I espoused in stride, protecting Hui Long before it completes its formation below her, saving her from a mighty fall. The dark dragon of smoke and black magicks becomes one with the wood dragon, forming its armor. And thus HuiLong raises a sword of ice and flame, riding a dragon of wood seeped in the darkness of ages. 

She looks to me with some measured determination now. 

“Finally,” I mutter as I swing to another cloud. I summon that sword of lightning once more and a trickle of rain patters upon us -- the first weepings of the storm. 

And we battle. 

I sling lightning of all forms, all shapes. She circles and wades, blocks and evades, sometimes hazarding a strike only for me to swing away. It is a game of tag. I run and shoot. She chases. Long’s blade reeks of energy. When I conjure up a particularly mighty bolt and send it shimmering her way, she blocks with her sword, yelling with fury as fire and ice explode against the lightning, creating a cloud of dust and sending sprinkles of ash and shards into the air. She emerges, her wood dragon snapping after my form. 

It nearly snatches my leg before I swing to another cloud, slashing it away with my blade. 

We clash midair a few times when we get too close. Our impacts send shivers through the storm. I notice from the corner of my eye cloud spirits gazing down upon our battle. It must be quite the spectacle for them. 

I am running out of time and energy. The angel dust is nearly out of my veins. Something needs to change -- the paradigm must shift. 

As much as I hate to admit it, she still goes easy on me. She has not deigned to summon her other four dragons for instance. Yet, that works to my advantage. 

So, I enact my ultimate strategy: swinging to the highest cloud, I arc up, above the mortal plane, above the gray sea of clouds, into the sky of color and light and purest freedom. The sun shines with a heavenly splendor, illuminating the topside of the clouds as if they were the landfall of heaven. 

She emerges from the storm, following me into that higher plane. 

There are no clouds above me. 

No chances to dodge nor swing away. 

Yet, I have one advantage now: I can build the lightning strike as I fall. So I aim my body down, blanketing my whole form in sparkling crimson. Flame etches on the outskirts of my body, dancing with the lightning as I break through the world. Momentum. Gravity. Lightning. All of it matters now – I’ll give every single piece of myself to end her. 

And I know her well enough to understand she won’t dodge. It's simply not in her Hui Long’s nature. 

My sword of lightning is raised. 

She rides up, the dragon diligently meeting me head on. 

She raises the Scaled Nodachi. 

I slash down. 

She cuts up. 

I land first. My sword passes through her shoulder, leaving a deep gashing scar and she screams out in pain, falling from the dragon. I crash into the dual-dragons, my lighting-imbued body breaking through the dark dragon’s armor and tearing a hole in the body of the wood dragon. I shoot, like a bolt of lightning myself, through the dragons and crash into Hui Long once more. We break through the plane of sun and splendor, back into the storm, my acceleration increasing. I bury my knee into her stomach. 

Our impact against the ground is like that of a meteor strike. A crater forms around us, stones and lightning shards exploding outward and upward. She lands first, her back breaking into the ground and I land atop her. 

The dust swirls. Then settles. 

I kneel panting atop Hui Long, lightning slowly dissipating. My sword still remains though, one last whisper of energy. 

She whimpers beneath. I should be shocked, yet it makes sense that she still lives, even after such an impact. Because of course she does. Because she’s a hero. 

Her face is marred by a scar from our battle, a red line of blood streaking down her pale cheek. Hui’s gray eyes stare up at me. She coughs. 

“Your mistake,” I begin. “Was not going all out. You shouldn’t have underestimated me.” She shouldn’t have tried not to fight. It was foolish. Had she used the Dragon of Light and the Dragon of Sound, she might have even struck before me in our last clash. 

Her sword lies scattered across the crater’s edge. She looks at it for a moment before focusing her attention on me. 

My time is ticking. I have seconds left to end this, if I want to do it using the angel dust. The sword will dissipate otherwise. 

Yet, for some reason, my body is rigid. I hesitate. 

“What are you waiting for?” She coughs. Her eyes are pleading. “Just kill me.” 

And there I see it. The guilt. It sickens me. How dare she feel guilty? How dare she not be the villain I envisioned her for? How dare she be… the very same Hui I once knew. 

The sword disappears. I stare at my hand dumbly. My body is out of red lightning. I am simply a powerless slave once more. 

I think for a moment about doing it with my hands. Squeezing the life out of her. 

Instead, I roll over, and lay on my back. 

She has a hacking fit of coughs. I stare blankly at the sky as the storm clears and sunlight reigns once more. 

I sigh. The anger is gone. Cold. I have missed that crucial window of opportunity. 

“Kill me Raiten. I deserve it,” she says. 

I shake my head. “No, Hui. Killing you would just be foolish indulgence.” 

I turn towards her, staring at her battered form. Tears are streaking down her eyes. She weeps like a babe. 

“Live with it,” I say. 

Her crying intensifies. And slowly, I take a stand, turning away, face blank, eyes fluttering from fatigue. I muster enough strength to make it back to the tower — I could not have gone far from it anyways, thanks to my curse. My dominion is this accursed rockface, barren and cold. 

So I begin to climb my old orange tower. 

A voice calls from behind me, crying from afar: “I’ll fix it Raiten,” she says, her voice cracking when saying my name. “I promise! I will fix it. I swear it.” 

I do not care. 

Not anymore. 

In fact, for the first time in a long while, I feel nothing. It is a sickening blankness. And, for the first time in my fifteen years at the tower, when I enter my now broken watchpoint, what with its snuffed out fire and cold kimchi broth and half burnt futon in the corner, it… it feels like home. 

My body aches. 

My mind suffocates. 

I do the only thing I can. 

I curl into my futon, cover myself head to toe, and do my very best to sleep.