It came. It was not the earthquake. It was the earth that split. The island will split into nemeses when two cursed souls find themselves back at the red cotton tree, said the old hag one day before her head rolled on the ground and the blood from her neck dyed the voiceless river red.
Trần Diệu Vân was carrying the basket of ripe plums to the mansion of Lord Pham that was located in the far east when she felt the ground pull her toward it. She stiffened her legs to maintain balance just to slip herself over and roll nonstop until her back hit the stone. The soft-yet-hard plums inside the basket she was wearing prevented any bone breakage. She would stay unharmed if she just sat here and let the pulling force do its job, but Hoàng Diễm Thụy was still near the graveyard, which was constructed on the far west of the island!
Hoàng Diễm Thụy had never visited her mother’s grave before, because it did not exist. Just three days ago, Diệu Vân learned how to carve the tombstone, and they built a small grave for her. Her body had long turned to dust, but her name was there, with her daughter praying. As Diễm Thụy touched the clumsy cursives on the stone, the wind dragged her to the right. It took her three rolls to realize it was not the wind, but the ground itself was moving. She needed to run to the left right now. Diệu Vân was waiting for her!
The island of Dật Lạc had always been content with the wind blowing. The harder the wind blew, the farther the ship went. Today, there was no wind. Nothing moved except the ground and the residents trying to run to the other side. Families hugged one another tight. Lord Pham commanded servants to stiffen his mansion, but he did not know that the red cotton tree had been split, and there would be no glue to fix the island again.
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Trần Diệu Vân was still making her way out of the forest. She was running, but most of the time she was rolling. The small rocks scratched her skin. She felt the wild grass’ thorns piercing through her eardrum. Blood burned her eyes and fingers. She was still conscious, and she could still make her way to her younger sister. Hoàng Diễm Thụy clung onto the grave to steady herself. The immense force of the ground propelled sand debris into the sky, obscuring her vision. She could not see. Despite her inability to breathe, she continued to walk and crawl. Slowly and slowly, she would reach the tree in the middle of the island. She would see her sister.
Trần Diệu Vân could feel a thousand footsteps and hauntingly chaotic noises behind her. They were just like her. Their loved ones were on the other side. Hoàng Diễm Thụy never knew how she could make her way to the tree. Her body lay flat on the ground. Leaves and wasted metal drew blood on every part of her skin. She looked up. Diệu Vân. They reached their hands to each other, as well as many people around them. Diệu Vân leaned further; if Diễm Thụy could grab her hard enough, they would not be separated.
Then, thunder.
The sharks must have a wonderful feast of human arms.
Screams tore the sky. They lost one of their arms, and some people lost both. A woman screamed in despair and grabbed her lover into the sea in that very moment. The thunder shattered the island completely, creating an invisible wall between them. Diệu Vân woke up in the pool of her blood. She had lost her left arm. Thụy must have lost the right one. Vân shrieked; Thụy wept next to the two halves of the red cotton tree. The sisters, who had different last names, different parents, and different bloodlines, found themselves permanently separated.