Once I’ve changed into clean clothes, I sit on the end of my bed, holding my mother’s flute in my hands.

The Twelve Requiems of Illusion opens in front of me, flipping pages until it lands on the only requiem I haven’t played yet.

The Ninth Requiem: Ruin

I put the flute to my lips and begin to play.

The notes start out soft as the world around me transforms.

Buildings with unreadable signs replace my walls, and a man kneels in the street, a woman dying in his hands

Blood drips from the body, pooling around the man’s knees.

The song cries with him as he sobs.

The music plays to a whisper as the woman finally dies.

Men, little more than shadows surround the crying man.

A powerful note rings out as a wave of energy pushes the shadows back.

The man drops the woman into the street, standing up, his knees covered with her blood.

Qi and energy gather around him, condensing into a small ball.

A hard note plays out and the energy explodes,

The shadows burst into dust as the buildings crumble. 

All life is lost, but the man pays little attention.

He looks up into the sky, his cheeks tear stained.

He roars his anger, his hatred, his grief. 

The world around him collapses. 

He falls to his knees.

He pulls the dagger from the woman who had remained untouched by the destruction.

He stabs himself through the heart.

He dies.

 

I close my eyes as the song ends, the illusion fading from the world around me. My qi and emotions stay in turmoil as I gasp for air, trying to hold back the sobs that rock my body.

The emotions of the man felt so real. I feel his hatred and his grief as much as he did. Why does death have to feel so, so heavy?

I calm my body and my qi with heaving breaths. Eventually, the emotions die down and I feel able to think again.

I stand up carefully, my legs wobbling slightly as I walk to the table. I open the flute case, gently placing my flute back into it.. 

A familiar presence enters the room, but I keep my focus on my flute, lost in thought now that I have my emotions back under control.

“Human politics always amazes me.” Shia slithers across the floor of my room, oblivious to the mess of my emotions. She rises up my robes, wrapping herself around my waist. “Betrayal, manipulation and far too many boring meetings.”

“I never liked it.” I say quietly, closing the flute case and running my hands down its length. 

“You are too trusting for it.” Shia responds, her body rising to wrap around my neck like a scarf.

“Do you have anything to tell me?” I ask, moving back to my bed and lying down.

“Nothing yet.” Shia responds

“Tell me when you do.” I mumble into the bed,  exhausted from the requiem. I fall asleep without hearing a response

 

***

 

I follow a step behind Master An Meng, Jing Xia at my side as we walk into the waiting room of Third Prince Biming Shi’s palace.

A servant motions us to sit while we wait. We sit in the same positions that we walked here in. I carefully adjust my sword as we kneel on the floor. As members of The Flowing River sect, we are allowed to carry weapons in the palace. Still, drawing them in the presence of a prince or princess is considered a crime worthy of a death sentence, barring extreme circumstances of course

The Third Prince waits an appropriate amount of time before entering the room. Not so long that we are left waiting, but not so short that we think he was waiting for us. 

The three of us stand up as he enters the room, bowing to him.

He is a man of thirty or so years. His long hair flows loosely, accentuating delicate features and a pointed nose. His skin is pale, as is common for most nobles and he is thin from a life of leisure.

I concentrate my senses, trying to catch even the smallest trace of demonic spirit on the Third Prince. The Third Prince’s spirit is musty, like an old book, but it holds a bent of cruel enjoyment. No demonic spirit is attached to him, but that doesn’t prove anything. There’s a high possibility that he has no personal connection with a demon or that he is working with cultists who haven’t summoned a demon yet.

“Master An Meng, I’m happy to hear that you have chosen to visit me and my brothers while you are here on your mission for your sect.” The Third Prince says as he enters the room. “I am of course happy to help you with anything you need.” 

The Third Prince sits himself across from us and we all sit back down. 

Master An Meng and the Third Prince proceed to discuss things while Jing Xia and I listen. Nothing meaningful comes from the conversation, so I spend my time observing him and the servants as they talk.

The rumors that surround the Third Prince are many and his spirit speaks to the cruelty that is whispered about.

The servants are professional, but they are quick in their work, leaving the room as soon as possible. Occasionally, I see a slight wince from pain in some of the servants or the shifting of cloth that reveals a bruise somewhat hidden by makeup. The female servants have it especially bad.

I look away from these signs when I see them, knowing that there is little I can do. The Emperor does not care and there is little the Empress can do. Anyone else that tried to help would find themselves dead within two day’s time.

The moment we leave the Third Prince’s palace, I shiver with disgust. 

“Is he the one?” Master An Meng asks me as we walk back to our rooms.

For a moment, I consider lying, just to get at the man. “Not that I can tell.” I finally say, shaking my head. 

“He’s a bastard!” Jing Xia voices my thoughts, her hand tightening around the sword at her waist “You can tell the servants are beaten often.”

Master An Meng looks at Jing Xia contemplatively. “That is not our concern.” He looks like he wants to say more, but leaves it at that.

A fury overtakes Jing Xia’s face and for a moment, it looks like she is going to yell at the Master.

Her eyes meet mine, her fury draining from her as I hold her gaze. Eventually she calms, and forces out the words, “yes, Master An Meng.”

I’ve never seen her react that way to something. She has always been the one to keep her anger hidden behind a smile.

We approach the entrance to our sect’s diplomatic hall and Master An Meng turns to the both of us. “We meet with the First and Second Princes tomorrow.” Master An Meng says, his voice not giving any hint as to his thoughts. “You two are free to look around as you see fit. Stay together, we don’t know who targeted Disciple Lin yesterday.”

“”Yes Master An Meng.”” The both of us say and he steps through the entrance, presumably returning to his room.

I look at Jing Xia. Her eyes are closed, and her body is visibly relaxing.

She reopens her eyes, looking at me with her usual energy. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”

I step closer, placing my hand on her arm. She smiles at me to show that she’s fine.. I rub her arm before letting go and stepping away. “The cultivator market.” I answer her question.

“Good, we can find something fun to do there.” Jing Xia turns, walking away from the main palace.

I watch her walk for a moment before hurrying to catch up. I can’t help but be worried for her.

Jing Xia leads us towards the cultivator market, her thoughts obviously elsewhere. 

I stop as we pass a mortal in dark clothes, traces of demonic spirit attached to them like strands. Jing Xia takes a moment to notice that I had stopped, turning around questioningly. She follows my gaze to the mortal, before looking back at me.

I place my hand on my sword as I walk towards the mortal. They turn around, freezing as soon as they catch sight of me. 

The other mortals on the street quickly move out of the way. As I get closer, I notice that the mortal with demonic spirit attached to them is a girl a few years younger than me. Her body is covered in dirt and grime, and her clothing has seen better days. 

She bows down as soon as I’m in front of her, fear making her body quiver. Mortals are rarely treated well when they gain the attention of a cultivator.

I stop, realizing I’m not sure what I should say to the frightened girl. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I say.

That seems to calm her a little, but not much.

“What’s your name?” I ask, my gut twisting at the fact that I’m scaring her.

“H-Hu, Miss Cultivator.” She says, the last traces of demonic spirit starting to disperse sound her.

“Hu, did you see anyone strange before I came up to you?” I ask, hoping that she might know why the traces of spirit are there.

She hesitates for a moment, before shaking her head, “No.” clearly lying.

I look at Jing Xia for help, she’s better with this kind of thing.

She smiles, before stepping forward. 

I step back, giving her room to convince the girl.

After a few seconds of talking, the girl nervously looks at both of us, before motioning for us to follow her. 

Jing Xia falls in step with me as we follow the mortal past buildings and through twisting alleyways, slowly entering the poorer part of the city.

“What happened?” Jing Xia asks me as we follow her.

“She had traces of demonic spirit on her.” I answer. “It’s similar to the one I felt yesterday.”

“You felt demonic spirit yesterday?” Jing Xia asks and I realize that I’d left that out of my story of the attack.

Eventually the girl stops, pointing to a run down building down the street. “The strange men entered that building after they brushed into me.”

“Thank you.” JIng Xia says, discreetly putting something into the girl’s hand. “You can go now.”

The girl doesn’t wait for us to change our minds, immediately running back down the alleyway.

“Do you remember the way back?” I ask, watching the girl disappear.

Jing Xia freezes, smiling awkwardly after a moment. “We should focus on finding out who these men are.” She says, ignoring my question.

I nod, activating the Movements Of The Silent Monster. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Jing Xia nods, loosening her sword in its sheath in preparation.

I walk to the side of the building with caution. 

I step over a sleeping beggar and climb up the wall to an open window on the second floor. I sigh internally as I look down at the dirt now covering my robes, before shaking my head and listening for sounds on the other side of the window.

The murmuring of voices reaches me, but no one seems to be directly on the other side.

I pull myself over the edge of the window into a room without furnishing.

Only one door leads out of the room, so I silently walk up to it. The voices get louder as I reach the door and I push it open slightly.

Stairs lead down to a large room and I creep down them until I catch sight of the occupants of the room. 

Six cultivators in the Qi Awakening realms sit around a table, speaking quietly to each other as a cultivator in the Foundation Establishment realm watches them with his hood pulled up, hiding his face. My eyes immediately catch on a leather book in front of the man in Foundation Establishment. Demonic spirit swirls around the sinister looking book, latching onto all the men around it.

I’ve never seen anything like it before. But whatever it is, I need to tell Master An Meng right away. 

My eyes are so focused on the book that I don’t notice that something is wrong until a man yells out from behind me.

I turn to see a man in the Fourth Level of Qi Awakening pulling his blade as he runs down the stairs towards me.