A Clash of Talons

The rooster sang its usual wake-up call atop the earth-fired tiles of the pub’s roof, rousing Zubaidah from her peaceful slumber. Still removing the silky veil of sleep, she pushed at the rusty hinges and opened out her windows to look down upon the already-bustling streets outside. Yet, she heard the heavy clattering of boots crunching upon the russets and ambers of leaves that were steadily piling up in the dark cobbled roads, not the usual buzz of market-goers. Confused as to what this was to do, but not too concerned with it, she lazily put on her usual gear and went to go down to the main lounge, but was stopped by an out-of-breath Huijin.

    ‘I’m sorry that this has to happen right now, but I need you to gather up your belongings quickly and go down the corridor to the left and accompany the others there through the tunnels.’ His rushed statement and hurried ushering of her back to her room gave her no time to think on what he was actually saying, and so when she came back down the stairs with all of her luggage, she was not prepared for the mass of moving feet, leaving her to be swept along by the flow of people which had suddenly surfaced. As she made her way along to a cellar entrance, she was helped down a rusty ladder into a strange tunnel filled with crates by a familiar face - that of her mentor Ho Lea. As she asked what all this commotion was about, Ho Lea hushed her,

    ‘I see that our dear friend, the bartender, has not actually told you what is happening? How very unlike him… It truly shows the panic that he is in. I must go, my dear, but listen to Ran Wo, she will fill you in in the specifics.’ As Ho Lea’s lithe form disappeared along the narrow path littered with wooden crates, Ran Wo, a regular of the bar and an informant of Zubaidah, registered all of the further details.

    ‘As you may have noticed, the forces of Guan Yu have swept through this part of the city in order to establish it as a supply base and so maintain a stronghold here. As has happened in many places, this means the local population will most likely be evicted from their homes and their belongings confiscated, all goods coming in will be intercepted for the army, and any supporters of Yoshiro’s forces or those who do not take Guan Yu’s side will be thoroughly destroyed. As this bar takes in a wide array of customers, it is unknown who is a supporter of who, and so he may harbour those that pity Yoshiro’s plight. As such, we have been forced to flee to avoid being killed or captured; Huijin himself has already been placed among the list of heads who need to roll. To make matters worse, it seems that band of thieves who frequent the outposts of Guan Yu’s army seems to be on the move to ransack this sector, and so we have had to hurry this evacuation up. I am sorry, my lady, but we must leave for Yuanzhou via this passageway.’

   

The tide of those seeking refuge began to ebb, flowing through the passages leading towards their safe haven away from the dangers of the war-struck capital; wading through the waves of frightened refugees, Zubaidah attempted to return to the surface - against the advice of Ho Lea and Ran Wo’s efforts to keep her put. While she wished to put their minds at ease, she could not enjoy the safety of their destination while she herself was experiencing an unease in her heart. She could not find Huijin. She could not find that lion-haired bartender anywhere among the waves upon waves of refugees.

    Zubaidah knew this bar was to be destroyed, but she could not let Huijin stay behind to witness the brutal act. She could not let that light of her life dim by the loss of his dearest possession - not like she had. She might be unable to prevent the loss itself, but she could save him from the despair brought on by witnessing it. That was all she could do. Upon emerging out into the side room of the bar, Zubaidah made haste to check the guest-rooms for his whereabouts, coming up with no evidence towards it - but as she returned to the main lounge, she barely made out the sound of a glass bottle falling to the floor with a heavy clink.

    There Huijin was, an empty liquor bottle rolling around next to his kneeling body. His dull eyes were devoid of recognisable expression, staring at the burning ceiling. His dishevelled hair was matted with a mixture of sweat and ash, falling from the scorched beams. His dirtied face was stained by irregular streams of tears, the sight of which causing Zubaidah to break into a deep sob. She was too late. She had failed to prevent him from falling to despair. She had let that bright light dim into a bare glimmer that was soon to be extinguished.

    The fire flashed about in a wash of red and yellow sparks. Like the beauty of unearthly waters, leaping up, picking up speed as it spilled forth into tributaries. How apt to describe flames as streams, for those opposing elements are merely the same destructive power in disguise. The fire held its head up proudly as its destruction spread while glowering at Zubaidah, daring her to challenge its awesome power. It ate everything in its path. Yellow, red and orange. The colours of autumn; yet could autumn cause so much destruction? Huijin stood entranced by its beautiful depths. It seemed like some seductive woman bringing him closer. The fire licked at his outstretched arm causing searing and a smell of burning flesh as it crept him his hand bringing him out of his reverie. Yellow, red and orange - the colours in autumn. That dearest season of autumn - when those two had first shared themselves in a single bed. The fires of passion which they had given to one another on that night were cruelly rendered in the blazing facade. Yellow, red and orange painted their love with the colours of ruin, gifting them a truly destructive picture.

    Zubaidah cursed those cruel painters who had spilled their damning shades upon the city. She cursed the derision of that bloodthirsty tyrant‘s soldiers. She cursed the avarice of those hook-masked bandits. She cursed the barbarity of this war and all its so-called heroes. She cursed until there was no voice left to curse with and stinging tears rolled down her pale cheeks, leaving smoky streaks of ash. When she could not curse anymore, she struggled upon shaking legs and left outside, without a second glance towards that lion-haired man.

    The heavens would not answer her curses; so she had to.

   

An unforgiving demon stalked the streets that night. Blackened bodies lay within abandoned alleys. Sticky crimson ran into empty gutters. A burning hell had truly been brought upon this unlucky city. Left, right, front, behind; steel flashed bright in the dying light. Purple banners scattering as cinders and porcelain white crumbling as dust, there was no division between those targeted. Left, right, front, behind; flesh bared crimson on the paved ground. The ones loyal to the throne and the ones scavenging in their wake; there was a unison in their bodies strewn about.

    A black butterfly stretched its delicate wings, a flower of the sky matching the ruinous dance unfolding below. A hate-filled cocoon bore its contradictory being, a dark shade following the sweet nectar man calls destruction. It raised those wings with some prophetic distaste, each flutter a moment towards the world’s end. This man-made hell was an environment perfectly twisted into the ideal abode of this butterfly. An environment twisted into the perfect vessel within which the depravities of the world could manifest.

    ‘Oh, my dear girl,’ That purple-haired demon stared blankly at the woman wreathed in jasmine who stood before her newborne scythe, ‘Would you stop this madness? You aren’t fooling anyone. Cast aside those foolish ideas of ‘revenge’ and ‘payback’, they just don’t suit your style. You cloak yourself in imaginary evils, pretending to be something wicked, but it doesn’t fit comfortably. The weight of that cloak upon your shoulders is too heavy, isn’t it?’

    Those amber eyes, shining just like the auspicious moon above, narrowed towards those biting yet caring remarks, ‘I can clearly see that this isn’t something that you truly want, nor is it something you can truly do; just look at those who you have targeted. You have strived to deliver some semblance of ‘punishment’, but you cannot administer a capital sentence. You are too measured a lady to do something so unreserved as taking a life. You know that it is wrong to impress your own idea of ‘justice’ when the value of a life is weighed upon the scales.’

    Bitter tears clouded those bright eyes, welling with suppressed emotion, ‘But I can’t let them go, can I? They hurt him and his dream… They deserve everything they get, I can’t take pity on them!’ Kind eyes laxed, ‘Hurting them would do nothing to change the hurt done to your man, dear.’ Shaking fists balled, ‘Then what am I to do for him?’

    ‘Leave him, for now. He would rather you continue down your travelled road without his worries as a burden. He loves you for your character and ideals. Well and truly, he loves you for it. His pride would not let this sorry state hinder you from pursuing your goal. Instead, carry his pride with all your power and prove that his love is rightly given.’

    Zubaidah crumbled into Ho Lea’s arms, gripping her in a tight embrace, ‘I will… I’ll prove it…’

A bright white butterfly settled upon her shoulder.

‘And once I've reached my goal, I’ll return.’