For a moment, Yin Long did not know what to make of the scene. The pillar of ice formed a stark contrast to the rest of the forest and the living people formed a stark contrast to the suffering he had already gotten used to. His gaze slid down slightly, landing on the hand of the woman that seemed to be the leader of this group.
It was outstretched, reaching towards him. Within his pupils, the outstretched hand spread apart into countless others, blood-stained hands that reached for him and clutched at his robe. They all screamed in pain and prayed for someone to ease their suffering, reached for a thread that could pull them out of this hell. And Yin Long… he had made himself that thread for them.
A moment of darkness descended as his eyelids closed. When he finished blinking and his eyes slid open, there was only that lone hand left. But it wasn’t reaching for him, it wasn’t trying to grab at the hem of his robes. It was simply holding a bowl filled with thin shavings of clear ice, a faint mist rising from it due to how cold it was.
Would it be wrong of him to hope that these people would be a sign of change? Would it be foolish if he hoped that this small meeting meant that this entire blasted realm was filled with more than just suffering and silently praying souls? Was he even sincere in that desire or was it just a manifestation of his creeping desire to not shoulder the suffering of those who lived here?
He didn’t know. Once again, he didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He couldn’t find an answer. He didn’t know.
His head hurt. It pounded. The dark mire in his mind shook, waves crashing against the inside of his skull as that small little light desperately fought to stay above the darkness. His head hurt.
His chest hurt.
His arms hurt.
His legs hurt.
From his shoulders to the tips of his fingers.
From his waist to the tips of his toes.
It hurt. It hurt. It ached and shook.
The desire. The unknown. The wish to do better. The small hopes. The buried glimmers of old joy. The new duty. They all danced about in their chaotic symphony. They all hurt
It all hurt. Everything hurt. Life was pain. He was pain.
"Go on, Young Master. You mustn’t leave people waiting, you never know when it’ll be too late."
A hand landed on his shoulder, a familiar voice creeping into his ear. The roiling of the dark mire only grew worse as the voice crept into the light, as it came out from the light. But the shaking sensation he felt subsided, the aching pain pulled itself deep into his bones, momentarily hiding away like a festering cancer.
Amber hair, a horribly cracked curve of the lips, gentle brown eyes that seemed to drown in their own tears. Lan Yun’s face was right next to his, her hand softly calming his tremors as she tried to ease his pain.
His insides trembled as he looked at her, the gaping void within him quivering quietly. But he still put on that smile for her, ignoring the trembling that filled his body as he rested his hand on hers.
"Okay… Don’t worry, I won’t ever be too late again. Never again."
He spoke to that small light, he spoke for that small light. And perhaps… Just perhaps… He spoke for himself as well.
The group of people adorned by the same white capes exchanged a few glances while Yin Long was looking at Lan Yun, but the woman who was the leader gave a small wave so they settled down before Yin Long turned back towards them.
"Yes, some ice sounds nice. Thank you for the offer."
He accepted the outstretched hand with the smile that had now become almost second-nature to him. To him it felt disingenuous, as empty as the void within him, as dark and murky as the mire in his mind. But perhaps it appeared different to others? The group in front of him at the very least didn’t show any twisted expressions nor momentary twitches as he flashed his smile.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
A wooden chisel was placed inside the bowl, used both for shaving the ice and to scoop it up. It wasn’t the most useful, but no one in this group seemed to have an interspatial ring, if such a thing even existed here in the Netherworld.
The handle was slightly cold and damp as Yin Long raised it, the small shavings melting in his mouth as he bit down. He expected to feel the numb sting of a chill when the cold water ran down his throat, but there was nothing. The ice melted, the water ran down his throat, but there was nothing.
The handle was chilly, the thin mist rising from the bowl was cold. Everything pointed towards the ice being cold, but there was just nothing when it flowed down his throat. The others gathered around the pillar seemed to be savouring the cold sensation of the fresh water, it seemed as if it was only he who couldn’t feel a thing.
"What’s the matter, Young Master? Is the taste strange?"
Lan Yun looked at him inquisitively from the side, having sat down on an empty log covered in moss. She should know the answer as well as he did, but looking at that broken face he couldn’t muster up any argument. So he picked up the chisel again and opened his mouth, his lies pouring out as easily as his prayers.
"No, it’s nice and refreshing."
The ice melted and the water ran down his throat. But his insides were colder than the water, the lump of coal within his emptiness was colder than the ice. So he felt nothing but the sensation of something creeping down his throat, a constant reminder of what he should feel.
"Refreshing? That’s good to hear. You need to grab onto whatever refreshing things you can find down here, otherwise you’ll be no better off than the dead awaiting their final rest."
The woman spoke up again, responding to Yin Long’s lie while casting a glance at the moss-covered stump next to him, her orange eyes clouding over for a small instant. She held her own chisel between her fingers, brushing back her hair with her other hand, dark green locks contrasting her bright cape.
"I’m Li Mei Yen, that’s Ting Dao Goh, Ho Dong, and that’s Shen Sheu. Our capes are a dead give-away so I can’t really hide our ties to the court of the Frozen Mountain. And yeah, we’re a long way from home, you don’t need to tell me."
The lady, Li Mei Yen, who seemed to be approaching the latter part of the thirties, waved the chisel about as she introduced the rest of her group. She flapped the hem of her cape for a bit as she finished her introduction, and while she spoke somewhat helplessly, she radiated pride as she spoke of their origins.
Naturally, Yin Long had never heard of this Frozen Mountain before, but for some reason the name stung his head. It felt like a bee inside his skull, prodding at what remained of his brain, a stinger slowly sliding along his nerves. A hand landed on his thigh so he pushed down the sensation, buried it in his bones along with the cancer that was already festering there.
"I’m Yin Long, this… This is Lan Yun. We’re just wanderers."
Wanderers. How familiar he hadn’t gotten with that word. Back when they still lived, he used it all the time. Every introduction before a duel, every new meeting. Wanderer, wanderer, a homeless warrior. He couldn’t broadcast his actual identity, the young master of the Lang clan had already died after all. So he became a wanderer, a loose swordsman just wandering from battle to battle as he tried to learn new things.
He was… happy back then. When he learned new things. When he met new people. When he saw new things. He was happy even when he lost fights. That happiness… was that still something he could afford? Was he allowed to think about something like that even down here, even after he failed so grandly? That joy, did he even deserve it now? The thoughts swirled in his head as that solitary light struggled against the mire. But naturally, Li Mei Yen and the others wouldn’t be able to see what was going on within him.
"Yeah, I figured. It’s hard to get a look like yours if you stay in one place for long. I do however recommend at least taking care of your clothes, depending on your direction you can easily end up wandering naked for days on end."
The chisel that had swept across the others was now pointed at him, scrutinizing his attire. Yin Long’s gaze naturally lowered, and only now did he realise that he was clad in nothing more than tatters. The robe was torn and cut by branches and thorns, dirt and thin traces of blood staining his skin. The only part of his attire that was still whole was the scabbard attached to his side and the sword that hung there. Perhaps… even in this state he still knew to care for his swords.
"Ah… That would be rather embarrassing, wouldn’t it?"
The slightly awkward smile and chuckle that spewed out from Yin Long were as disingenuous and empty as his other smile. What did it matter if he was tattered? If his outside matched his inside, would it perhaps make things easier? Would it give him some reprieve?
"…"
Li Mei Yen looked him up and down a bit as she bit down on her chisel, her throat rolling as she swallowed. She glanced at the stump again before exchanging a look with the rest of her group, who only responded with some helpless looks. That seemed to be all the communication they needed, the orange eyes once again landing on him.
"Tell you what. You look like you need some help, as well as some more… company. We’re technically on a little bit of a mission right now, but it’s not something difficult so how do you feel about following us? Once everything’s done, we can take you with us back to the court, maybe give you a new place to call home and rest your weary body."