Fire and Shadow

The drums of revolution echo beneath Shadow’s feet. 

No, not a revolution. His revolution.

Beneath a sickle moon and her attending stars, Shadow stands on the edge of the city of Montauvers’ grandest cathedral. Spread out on the roof before him are men Shadow would’ve gladly died for, men who share his island skin and exotic, emerald eyes, now pointing crossbows at his heart. At their center, Cassia stands with red curls whipping in the evening breeze, her crossbow pointed at her husband’s face with a steady grip; Hoa stands by her side, sword in hand — at least Shadow’s dearest friend has the decency to look ashamed.

“Hand me the key, my love,” Cassia repeats.

Shadow swallows his anguish. Mourning is not a luxury he has right now. For the revolution to succeed, he must survive. Far below, among the throngs of Wati hurtling through the streets with fire and rage, Shadow picks up the clanking armor of the king’s Valor Guard, entering the cathedral doors below. He needs time.

“Who got to you?” Shadow asks. “The Grand Shepherd? One of the Premiers? How much is my life worth?”

Cassia spits at his feet. “You know what’s worse than being married to a fool? Marrying an arrogant fool. You were blinded, believing you alone strived for our independence. So blinded, you didn’t know your closest friend bedded your wife. In your bed. Every night.”

Shadow’s former blood brothers grumble. For a husband to be cuckolded in their culture speaks more to the man’s dignity than the wife’s. Many tighten their grips on their crossbows.

“You disrespected us, brother,” Hoa adds. “You never listened. You led our rebellion like the king we look to destroy.”

“I’m ending his tyranny!” Shadow roared. “For us! For our children!” His voice almost breaks at the last, but Shadow refuses to give them the satisfaction of his torment.

“We don’t want the Onyx Castle destroyed,” Cassia says. She steps forward, standing at a distance where missing Shadow’s eye is impossible. “I’ll not ask again, husband. Hand over the key to the undercroft so we may dismantle your explosives. I don’t wish to remove it from your corpse.”

Shadow looks between his wife and friend, comprehension finally dawning. “You want the throne for yourselves?” he says with disgust. 

“We want our people to rule!” Hoa says. Shadow sees more hunger in his friend’s eyes than he could have imagined. Was he indeed so blind? “With the Wati in power, imagine the legacy we can leave for our people.”

“That betrays everything! Our people’s blood feeds the roses at the foot of the castle’s battlements.” Shadow makes a tight fist. “It’s too powerful a symbol. Any fool hungry for power will try and take it from you, risking our people’s lives for decades to come. No, the castle must burn.”

The roof door slams open as Valor Guard pour through, swords in hand. The Wati crossbows thrum in the night as they turn and fire. Soldiers collapse, but more come through the doorway.

“We must hurry—” Hoa starts to shout, but a sword strike takes his head from his shoulders. 

Shadow uses the distraction to leap from the cathedral’s rooftop. 

Cassia fires her crossbow, sending a bolt into Shadow’s shoulder as he falls. His shoulder screaming, Shadow tangles himself in thick vines of garland that traverse the narrow streets to swing into the growing mass of marching bodies. Shadow knocks down a dozen of his people. They curse as he untangles himself to sprint for the Onyx Castle.

Blood leaking down his side, Shadow pushes his way through throngs of screaming revolutionaries, running past burning shops and ringing steel from tiny knots of fighting. Shadow aches that he cannot enjoy it. This was supposed to be his finest moment. A story he would tell his children on nights when they refused to sleep. Cassia would chide him for being too stern. He would relent, telling them the story of the night their parents ushered in a new world in which they could thrive as equals, not be tormented as immigrants by the people they were invited to save through their labor, because the people of Montauvers were having fewer children. He would tell them that they now work for their own futures. That they were free.

That dream is gone now. 

All that is left for Shadow is the freedom of others. Another father will have that moment. Another mother will listen as she stokes the fire in their home with a quiet smirk.

Shadow’s feet pound the cobblestone streets as he makes his way over the Somerisle Bridge, the dividing line between the high- and low-class territories, enters the Ruby Village township that surrounds the castle — now a neighborhood of burning mansions — and charges through the broken gates of Onyx Castle.

Shadow’s lungs burn as he runs through the immaculately kept hedges of the lawn that stretches before the black stone fortress. He finds the hole he helped dig only twelve hours before when all that occupied his mind was the promise of a better tomorrow. He jumps through, crab-walking through the narrow corridor of black earth until he reaches the underside of the castle’s west wing. He climbs through the broken wall, finding himself inside a vaulted room of ancient stone. The hall stretches to a locked door. Shadow sighs with relief as he steps through when another bolt tears through his thigh. He goes down with a cry.

Cassia steps through the wall right after him, already reloading her crossbow. Her jade eyes stare down at her husband without remorse.

“It could have been us,” she says. “We could have been rulers.”

“We are not rulers, Cass,” Shadow replies through gritted teeth. “Our people lived free, without power hanging over our heads.”

“And look what happened,” she seethes. “We were overrun! Too weak to fight back, forced from our lands, lured to this city by a promise, only to be abused. Again. There are more nations out there, husband. More powerful countries than this one who see people like the Wati as deserving to be taken.” Her eyes pool with unfallen tears. “Women raped. Children dashed against the rocks. Elders burned. I have seen it. You have seen it. And yet, you think we could live in peace with nature. You’re an idealistic fool.”

“It’s what you loved about me. Once,” Shadow says.

Cassia shakes her head. “Your ideas will lead us to our death.” She raises her crossbow, tears now falling with abandon. “I love you.”

Shadow grabs the fine dirt he collected when he fell and throws it in his wife’s face. Cassia cries out, coughing and blind. Shadow rolls onto his good leg and vaults off the floor with his strong arm, bowling her over and knocking the wind from her lungs. Cassia’s bow fires but misses Shadow completely. He pulls the key from his pocket, turns it in the lock, and throws the door open. 

The undercroft runs the length and width of the castle, filled with a forest of stone support pillars. Long ago cleared out of the king’s goods, it is now a sea of crates filled with the combustible powder of the far east Yuhan Provinces. A line of purple powder snakes from multiple points among the boxes, all leading to Shadow’s feet. He quickly removes an unlit torch from a wall sconce and a tinderbox from his bloodied shirt.

Cassia leaps on his back, sinking her teeth into his exposed neck. 

Shadow screams. 

He tries to ram her into the stone walls behind him, but his wounded leg buckles, letting Cassia scurry away before Shadow falls back into the wall. An explosion of white takes his vision as he slams his head. Cassia kicks the unlit torch from his hand, but Shadow blocks the tinderbox with his body. Cassia kicks and punches anywhere she can to loosen his grip, then jumps on top of him.

“Why can’t you see what you’re doing?” she says with a desperate pleading. “Let go!”

Cassia bites Shadow’s fingers, still wrapped around the tinderbox. With a surge of anger, Shadow elbows her face. She falls back, dazed, but still holds on to Shadow’s arms. Feeling woozy from blood loss, Shadow takes his final surge of energy and rips himself from his wife’s grip. He shambles to the unlit torch, grabbing it in his blood-soaked fingers. Cassia stumbles towards him, but Shadow swings the torch at her head, catching her with a clumsy hit that still topples her against the wall.

With numbing fingers, Shadow lights his tinderbox and sets the torch aflame. His vision dimming, Shadow stumbles to the line of powder.

“You would end up like them,” he whispers. You would wear their royal gowns and crowns and be seduced by their strength.”

Cassia shakes her weary head. “The Wati would be different.”

“Now who’s the idealist?” Shadow sighs. “If not us, it would be our children or our grandchildren. They will forget our ways and turn themselves over to their lust for power. That I have seen.”

“You believe in it enough to kill us both?” Cassia says.

Shadow watches the fire dance on the tip of his torch as his life leaks from his wounds. In the distance, the Wati war drums have become a furious pounding. The Valor Guard has engaged in earnest, with whole legions descending on the city and fighting in cramped alleys and expansive pavilions. The past three years have led Shadow to this moment. He carries with him the promise of his parents that he would never know chains, never feel the tug of bondage around his neck, the kind of subjugation Cassia would be forced to bring again if she were to rule. 

Shadow looks to his wife. “We could’ve been happy,” he says.

Cassia frowns. “I stopped respecting you long ago. I was never happy.”

Shadow gives her a lazy shrug. “I was. And our people will be, too.”

Shadow drops the torch on the powder, watching the line of fire sparkle and jump towards the crates.

He hobbles to his wife and sits with her, watching the line disappear.

“Fool,” she says.

“A fool you married,” he replies.

As the flames race towards them, Shadow and Cassia sit together, their backs against the cold stone wall of the undercroft. In the fire's flickering light, Shadow casts a weary gaze upon his wife. Even amidst the betrayal and destruction, a sense of peace settles over Shadow’s heart. As the flames consume them both, Shadow closes his eyes, his last breath a whispered prayer for the future of his Wati.