Silent Citadel

It should not have ended like this, and Wu knew it; she was out of time.

Weaving through the sea of citizens, Wu stalled by one of the narrow alleyways of Haen. A frigid gust of wind blew through the passageway, ripping the hood from Wu’s head, leaving her gazing at the roiling clouds. Ashen and streaked with the occasional shock of white they did little to absorb the light of the lanterns below. The aroma of spices and old oil permeated the air, clinging to the clothes of every patron and perpetrator who dared to brave the icy winter weather. Nevertheless, people continued to bustle from stall to stall, trading and bartering the night away. The din of the singing street performers made Wu feel unexpectedly empty. This evening, the night market was in full swing and while the dazzling lights made the city feel full, endless darkness loomed overhead; bitter, biting, and lonely. Electricity crackled through the air as another bolt of lightning shot across the sky, belligerent booms of thunder reverberated through Wu’s bones, and if it had been any other night, she would have loved it. She would be smiling and laughing with her friends as they cackled their way down the streets, mingling with the crowds and racketeers, but tonight was different; it was her last.

Absentmindedly Wu began to trace the outline of the wyvern that was embroidered over her heart. Thinking about her family, she watched the scarlet lanterns glow crimson in the open air, forlorn against the sky, as her mind drifted to the dream she had awoken from that morning. Gods, had it been only that morning? It felt like a lifetime ago, but over the past few weeks, the great phoenix had appeared to her several times. Each time seemed more demanding than the last, it was only this morning that Wu had been able to put the pieces together, as to why the phoenix would take an interest in her. She was heir to the Dragon of the East, not a keeper of the flame. However the harbinger of death had appeared to Wu, with her name dripping from its lips. It had summoned her to the Little Palace. The memory of flames lapping at her heals, and talons clawing at her chest were not easily forgotten. The vision had marked Wu like a bloodstain that she could not ignore.

Lighting lashed across the sky as Wu snapped her attention back to her task at hand. Looking at her pocket watch she saw that it was getting late. Storming down the rest of the way, Wu cut through the thick low-lying smog. Gripping her satchel tightly, Wu continued to zigzag through the hoard of strangers that consisted of overly zealous barmaids and pickpockets with wondering hands; their smiles never quite reaching their eyes. The fog pooled around her ankles, and slowly climbed to her calves just as she spied the sinister block of buildings that her friend called home. Peering into the shadows Wu searched the street for wandering eyes but found none. Not a light could be seen in any of the darkened windows. Perhaps all of the inhabitants had gone to the night market that evening, as not even a whisp of smoke curled from a single chimney. Thrusting forward its gable onto the street, the windows seemed to glare imperiously at passersby, as if daring them to gawk at its ominously black exterior. Fishing the key out of her pocket, Wu jammed her key into the lock and pushed open the doors. The hinges shook with age, as Wu scanned the musty old foyer for her friend, eventually spotting her seated by the fire.

“Deng, I’ve come to ask for a favor” Wu greeted, face deadpanned.

Twisting from her spot on the emerald green couch, Deng threw Wu a suspicious look, “Why yes, good evening to you too Wu,” voice filled with mock enthusiasm, “I am marvelous yes, thank you for asking,” Deng retorted.

“Please Deng?” Wu pleaded persistently as she latched the door behind her shut and sank into the settee in front of the fireplace, “I read about the prophies that were inscribed into the walls of the Little Palace and I have to see it. Besides, you’re the only person I know who still understands the old language, you know I can’t read it!” Wu poured as much sincerity and innocence as she could into her voice, squeezing her hands to keep them from shaking.

“But it’s going to rain, and I think there’s a lightning storm brewing. Besides where would you possibly want to go in this weather?” Deng wined.

“The Little Palace!” Wu pleaded.

“It’s already so late, if you wanted to go, why didn’t you come earlier?” Deng cocked and eyebrow at a coy Wu.

Faking a smile she crooned “I know, I know but I got lost on the way here and…,” Wu’s lie trailed off into murmurs as she avoided Deng’s gaze.

While neither of them mentioned it, Deng still threw Wu a disapproving look, because how could she possibly get lost; it was her city. Born the Imperial Empress Wu Xifeng, Wu was heir to a great dynasty, and she had spent her entire life in the city of Haen, otherwise known as the secret city. She had spent her childhood running down the stone streets, and hiding on rooftops, she toiled away her adolescence socializing with the richest of merchants, and on the rare occasion she had even prowled through the sea of faceless soldiers that guarded the city; she knew the city, her home, like the back of her hand.

Surrendering Deng relented, “Okay, I’ll take you, but where exactly are we going again?”

“―Gods Deng! You have the shortest attention span of any immortal I’ve ever met!” Wu snapped, “For heaven’s sake you’re seven hundred and forty years old, how do you have such as goblin piss memory!”

“You try living for a couple of centuries and see how well you remember the passage of time!” Deng retorted, black corkscrew curls bounced around her head, “Honestly, I don’t even know why it’s such a big deal, so what if I am forgetful!” Her narrow sharp eyes sharpened to slits in the flickering light, “Memory is more burdensome then absent-mindedness!”

“Alright, alright, I take it back,” Wu threw her hands up in surrender at Deng’s reprimand, “my deepest apologies, oh wise one.” Grinning from ear to ear, Wu persisted, “What could I do to atone for such an indecent infraction?” Exaggerating her bow, Wu let a beat of silence emanate throughout the room before she straightened in her seat, to grin even wider at her friend in mock surrender, “Happy? I apologized okay, now will you please just do me this one favor and come with me to the ruins?”

“Yes,” Deng relented, “but not because of your charisma, or lack thereof,” she moved from her seat at the couch to stand in front of the blazing fire, “but because you are my favourite mortal, and I am curious as to why you’re so interested in some dusty old rocks.” Extending an arm towards Wu, Deng gestured to the fire, “Are you ready?”

A lump grew in Wu’s throat as she reached for Deng’s hand, hesitating as fear threatened to destroy her resolve, because if she were honest, she was not ready, and doubted that she ever would be. Still, it was the call of the phoenix, and perhaps her own selfish need to be the hero that pushed her forward. This was her destiny to claim.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Wu took her friend’s hand, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” whispering a too quiet, “but, no, I am not” before jumping into the fireplace.

The fire was hot, yet it did not burn. Golden flames wrapped around Wu as she plunged into the light. The gilded tips melted into molten brass, its colour then changing into a vermillion and chartreuse maelstrom. Made out of Hellfire, the enchanted flames were a form of transportation among the Soucouyants. The race of vampiric shapeshifters wore human skins over their inferno forms; resembling a fireball whenever they shed their skin. Rumored to have originated from Hellfire itself, Soucouyants could travel long distances by fire; with Hellfire being their preferred medium of transport, a fact that nauseated Wu. Uncomfortable minutes raced by as Wu was thrown about; why did she agree to this?! The question rattled around in her skull as her vision blurred. For her, traveling by Hellfire felt like being thrown into a hurricane; ungodly and unpleasant.

Stumbling out of the fire Wu felt lightheaded, and either the room around her was swaying or she was. Deciding that it was probably the first she sank to her knees, sucking in a few steading breaths; where did Deng go? Once her head settled, Wu opened her eyes, searching her foreign surrounding for her friend. Peering to her left she saw Deng dusting cinders off of her charcoal colored skirts, patting her arms for any stray embers that may have gone awry.

Righting herself, Wu drank in her surroundings, all crumbling stone, cracked filigree, and blackened marble, it appeared as though they had stumbled out of a hearth. Whipping her heard around Wu saw the miles of carved inscriptions that were half hidden behind scorched tapestry that stemmed down the open aired pavilion. The starless sky was blacker than night, but the air was warm against Wu’s cheeks; not a breeze dared blow as the fire that they had just tumbled out of glowed star bright.

“Now remind me what are doing here?” Deng chimed from Wu’s left.

Holding in her irritation Wu replied, “We’re here for you to translate a passage of a prophecy,” walking towards one of the walls, “you’re the only person I trust enough to bring here,” Wu finished, waving to the cavernous space around them before she started walking towards the dais.

“And here is where exactly?” Deng wined, running to keep up with Wu’s quick pace.

“The Little Palace,” Wu supplied, spinning on her heals as she walked, gesturing to the walls, “Home of the first people.” Shooting a confused Deng a look of annoyance, she continued, “Your ancestral home, don’t tell me you don’t remember it? You lived!”

“I remember the Little Palace, but this seems more like a kingdom of ash to me,” Deng replied dully as he bent down every now and again. Picking up handfuls of ash, only to let it pour out of her hand. “I was a child the last time I was here, I was mortal, so forgive me if everything looks a bit,” Deng paused for thought, “different,” she exclaimed, “forgive me if I don’t recognize it―”

“But you are immortal now” Wu interjected.

“Yes, I am, but that doesn’t change anything. When I sold my mortality, I also sold pieces of memory,” Deng signed, “the price is different for everyone―”

That last comment took Wu by surprise. The word mortal rang in her ears prompting her to ask, “Do you ever regret it? Becoming immortal I mean.”

“No,” not a heartbeat passed by, “never, this was my destiny, my choice,” grabbing Wu’s wrist, Deng looked her in the eye without an ounce or remorse in them, “I chose to become immortal, I chose to pay the price that was demanded, as you will one day, but no, I don’t regret it.”

Humming her agreement, the two women climbed up the stairs to the ash covered dais, the mother of pearl inlays reflected dully in the gloomy light. Going over her plan once more Wu watched as Deng shed her skin in a brilliant flash of light, turning into her truest form, as she soared overhead to read the long-forgotten language. Her fireball like form engulfed the dais in a blazing light, that sent the vermin scurrying away. Muttering a silent prayer, Wu begged the Gods that it would not attract any monstrosities from the shadow. Shaking with the effort to remain quiet, Wu traversed the dais, pacing up, down, and around its ashen and scorched surface. Wu wondered what happened in the once great hall to have ripped open the ceiling. Deciphering its twists and jagged edges took longer than Wu had anticipated. Why had the phoenix chosen these ruins, what was here?

Swooping in a graceful descent, Deng shrugged back into her skin, and in a blinding flash of light took human form once more. Wu raced towards Deng, skidding slightly on the rough surface.

“So, what did it say?” the words tumbled out of Wu’s mouth faster than she had intended.

“Most of the symbols have either been scorched or scratched out, but it says something about ‘phoenix fire’, ‘dragon heart’ and ‘the heir will pay the price, only then can balance return’ but it says nothing about a daughter dawn or child of night,” Deng supplied, confusion creeping across her face, “Are you sure you read that tomb right?”

Deng continued peppering Wu with questions, but her words fell on deaf ears, because at that moment Wu felt her heart pounding against her ribs. It was her; she was the sacrifice; the phoenix had called her to pay the price with her blood. She was a descendant of the dragon of the East, blessed in phoenix fire, and heir to the throne. She had toyed with the idea for days, but the weight of this confirmation settled upon her. Tears streamed down Wu’s face as realization settled in her chest.

“Yes,” the words slipped out of Wu’s quivering lips, “I am sure, I’ve been sure for weeks now, I just needed confirmation,” sucking in a breath she stammered, “I, jus―just need to know for sure,” pulling out a gilded dagger from her belt, Wu hefted the blade. Feeling the weight of the cold celestial steel in her palm she felt the weight of her life, and her peoples’ lives in her hands and knew; her sacrifice would be worth it.

Turning towards Deng, Wu gave her friend a small sad smile as she fell to her knees, but in a sudden unfamiliar act Deng dove towards her. Crouched down beside her, Wu divulged the secrets that she had kept close to her chest for the last few weeks. Whispering under hushed breaths, she told Deng about the phoenix, that she was the heir apparent, and most importantly, about how her father, the Emperor and dragon of the East, had bestowed the Mandate of Heaven upon her. Wu explained that the Mandate of Heaven was given to those who served the cosmos, and that by all accounts, it was her sacrifice that would bring magic back, bring balance back. She had spent years researching, looking for a way to bring magic back and to her horror and relief, the answer was her, all along.

With shuddering fingers, Wu walked over to the center of the dais, bloodstained, and covered in ash, she stood atop a once ornately decorated spot and drew her dagger to her chest. She did not want to die. She did not want to die. She did not want to die. The phrase raced through her thoughts, but a resounding voice clamored through. But it will bring magic back, it will save her people. Resting the tip of her blade on the embroidered wyvern, Wu’s silver lined eyes met Deng’s, “Thank you for coming with me today.”

“Are you sure?” Deng asked from her position at the foot of the dais.

Swallowing hard Wu continued, “Yes.”

Slicing her palm open and tracing a few sacred runes into the grimy ground Wu stood, eyes clear with determination. She did not want to die. Plunging the blade through the embroidered wyvern and into her heart, Wu let out a gasp as she fell, allowing the darkness to swallow her whole.

Falling, falling, falling, she was pumped into oblivion until, suddenly, she stopped.

A warm embrace enveloped her being and cracking open heavy eyes Wu saw that the phoenix had wrapped her in its fiery wings once more. Wu shuddered as a booming voice rattled her bones, “My child, what have you done! It is not yet your time, nor is this your price to pay.”

Disbelief clouded Wu’s thoughts, it wasn’t her? How was that possible? It should have been her; she was the prophesied sacrifice. This was her destiny! Supposed to bring magic back to her empire.

“You are not the heir, however, you have passed the test of spirit, so I shall give you a gift. It will protect you when I cannot,” a thin golden necklace, shimmered into existence around Wu’s neck, with a tiny egg-shaped pendant dangling from it. “This will be the last time you see me, however, just know that I am always with you, and that in time you will restore balance to you empire,” the phoenix continued, its golden aura had begun to heal the wound in her chest, “You will travel West to where gold runs black, and only there will you find the heir of phoenix fire and dragon heart,” then in a flash of light, Wu squeezed her eyes shut as she felt her skin turn wet and sticky.

Cracking open her eyes, Wu saw that she was covered in ash, dust, and her own sticky blood. Looking down at her ruined blouse she saw a thin white scar where the hole in her chest used to be, her celestial dagger strewn to her right, and a slender necklace hanging from her neck. In this forlorn silent citadel Wu held the pendent in the palm of her hand, as four new revelations blossomed into her mind.

She would go back home to her family, her friends, her people.

She could bring magic back to the empire.

She had to travel West.

She had time.