A Moth to the Flame

The light they followed so closely had been snuffed out. Whether this was due to outside forces, or simply because it “wanted” to, there had been no warning. Cast off into the cold, the siblings would need to see reality through a colored-lense. The world they’d been accustomed to often presented itself in gray hues. Alas, coming to acceptance wasn’t a guiding flame, but rather a fake sun. Artificially crafted to lure them in, there’d be nothing left except ashes. Who would want to admit the possibility of their father’s death?

Four siblings stood together while eight moth-shaped irises closed in unison. Children of the Moth. It was a proud title bestowed upon them by the world. A name born from fear and neutrality, only true inheritors gained such affiliation. Silence filled the room with uncertainty. Maybe the illusion it gave had comforted the young ones. Perhaps they were also afraid that once soundless spell was shattered there would be no going back.

“Father- Please protect us during this time. Our lord, we will find your light once more.”

Just like that, the terror set in yet no one said a word about it. The sentences came from the youngest of the four. Having turned twelve years of age only a month ago, his praise for their father had been beyond his years. Six irises remerged while two stayed shut. As they stayed in place, the youngest continued his preaching.

“Regardless if your glow has dimmed, if you shine brightly enough, moths are sure to appear.” The last two irises would join the rest. He wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the courage to. Most of the chants he did were made up on the spot. Of course, there’d be times when he’d use lines from previous preaching sessions, but it almost made sense to have a certain motto. They were all half-siblings, related by the same father. It made their words of worship easier to produce. Being of the same blood as the man they revered as a god, their feelings were all the more genuine. The mind worked in mysterious ways, enabling them to deny empathy but refuse blatant truth. Returning to their wordless exchange, it shattered with another speaking.

“Diego, I will have you search the central district again.”

A voice much like piercing frost shot through the air and created command. Coming from a woman this time, she’d be the eldest of the four. The color of her eyes was practically unidentifiable due to their light shades. Yukina resembled their father the most. Long black hair reaching past her shoulders, her face had a glacial countenance at all times. Rarely did the hardened ice give way to softer sheets.

“Charlie, I’ll have you go look through the fifth district while Zhixuan and I cover the remaining three.” Yukina’s tone stayed calm, not a hint of weakness dared to spill through. She stared at her kin to see if there would be any opposition. Naturally, none came. They all had an unspoken agreement. Even if they were grasping at straws, there remained hope in their minds. All the siblings had defining features to them. Yukina was a mini version of their father, taking the most after him. The term ‘family’ could be used loosely to describe this group, yet blood ties didn’t have a full say either.

Diego’s golden eyes had weak luminescence to them as he turned to face the darkness. His arms were crossed and his body remained closed, shutting out any thoughts of their father’s demise. Diego would’ve left the moment Yukina issued her order, but that wasn’t an option. Their idle talk covered up the bloodied trail left behind by their creator. Zhigouzhin’s rules were cruel, leaving no mercy for the feeble. Everyone knew this, and the sacrifices that had been made were immeasurable. Still, how could they possibly lighten the load from hands so heavy? Their attempts to reduce the casualties for someone who’d run the world into the ground were futile.

Zhixuan fiddled with his hair, the white strands falling against pale knuckles. They were staying too still for his comfort, but where else was there to go? Most of their lives operated independently, yet there’d be someone to guide their souls. They needed to stick together, despite how strong they were by themselves. Tears began to form in the corners of Charlie’s eyes, being the youngest he was still new to the group. Though, this situation was new to all parties involved. The tears beaded up to become even bigger to the point they couldn’t hold on, losing grip they slid down the adolescent’s cheeks before turning into moth scales. Quickly the young boy wiped off the small trails his tears left. But it didn’t go unnoticed. Diego offered comfort through illusion.

 “Save your tears for when we find him.” Yes, it wasn’t anything emotional, sappy, or exactly kind, but it gave promise to reunite with their father. The four knew what was going to happen next. The disappearance of their emperor, their father, would bring in pests. No longer hidden in the shadows, the filth became more visible in the moonlight. Officials appointed by the emperor, it was more nepotism and looks that got them to such positions. As much as the siblings wished that wasn’t the case, there was no denying it. Playing favorites was commonplace in the palace. Although these fine specimens were great at surface appearance, they’d be exceptional in deceit and boot-licking.

Standing across from the four, a particular official stepped out. His clothes were vibrant colors with questionable aesthetics. They didn’t quite fit his personality. What did match was the three-eyed snake that hung around wherever he’d be. Its sharp features threatened to cut their wings and set them ablaze. The man’s smile was eerie, giving off the air that he was about to strike. Even if they didn’t know where their father had gone, the siblings all knew that the officials wanted them out of the picture. It was no secret there was a deep animosity between the two groups. Despite both working under Emperor Qing, they’d never gotten along.

Finally opening his mouth, the official would speak.

“Shall we hold a funeral for his majesty or children first?”