lightshaper123

  Yulong Qianshe held the cold manacles tightly with bloodied hands, her only anchor to the real world. Without the cold metal shocking her back into reality, she would be lost to the excruciating pain being whipped to her back. But this pain was for a reason, for she had made a mistake, like all the rest of the times before that. She had known this and took it into account, but she still risked this pain and punishment, but at least she saved a life. She had been doing this for two weeks now, and they had been painful when she came back; the cost of saving a life was worth it, though.
  Ever since she broke through her emotionless shell when encountering Ji, she couldn’t make herself murder the targets that His Highness told her to kill. Every time she refused or came back without any blood on herself, Yulong was punished with a session of whipping from her swordplay “mentor,” Adrian Yoqu. The sessions usually go on for ten to thirty minutes, but with her recent mistakes and her continuing to refuse to fill out Highness’ commands have made those sessions go on for longer. 
  She didn’t know how she was still alive; she would’ve given into the darkness long ago, yet she still held on. She didn’t know why, but she kept holding onto that hope that things would turn out for the better. It was that hope that she was the only one being punished and not her family or friend. It felt foolish to hold on at this point, because she would only be punished again. But at least her family and––
  The whip cracked across her bare back. 
  A blood-curdling scream escaped her lips, the one she had been holding in for too long.
  It was useless.
  Her superiors–– no, her captors didn’t feel any empathy towards her pain; in fact, Adrian relished it when he saw her succumb to it. They would continue to punish her for her acts, even though she was only saving lives that she knew would be ruined if she didn’t interfere. They punished her by locking her in the basement of an unknown building, made her strip down to almost nothing, and only then gave her the punishment that she knew she deserved.
  Crack…
  The darkness beckoned for her to give in to it.
  Crack
  It begged her to come to finally rest from the pain.
  CRACK
  That was when Yulong slipped.
  Her anchor fell from her grip, leaving her to fall to the cold cement. It would’ve soothed her normally, but her warm blood began to pool around her fallen body and soak into what little clothes she had on. Any normal person would’ve fainted from blood loss, but she always survived to live through the punishment and the pain associated with it. 
  Huddling in the fetal position, she took the punishment she knew she deserved. 
  Her captors… Her superiors would never lie to her about her shortcomings and the mistakes she made, so why would they start now? They only wanted her to improve to save her family and friend. Sure, they asked some extreme things of her, but she also knew that they knew best. They had control after all, and why would she question the people with power? They were the ones that knew what she was able to do, and they helped her come to realize that, even if it were through murderous means.
  So what, she saved a life? They were not the lives she was aiming to save… What would be the point of saving people she hardly knew? They weren’t the ones she would spend her time with when she was free from this prison. They were the ones that were in the way between her and her freedom with her family and friend. It was only them that kept her from tasting freedom. They were the obstacle keeping her from reuniting with her family and friend.
  Maybe her superiors had a point.
  It felt like hours were passing by, and she was only growing more numb to the pain. Yulong didn’t know if it was that strange power that seemed to heal her in the mornings, leaving only the scars, but she was only going to lay there and take it. There was no use to fight back, they would only put her back to work the next day. She would refuse to kill and face the same punishment. The cycle would repeat for the rest of eternity, it would seem.
  In the end, it was for the best. It was for a good cause. It was for her own good.
  And yet… she could feel herself wanting something that she hadn’t expected from herself: her mother’s embrace again. She wanted to finally save them from whatever fate His Highness was threatening them with, but it felt like everything she did only made her feel like she was taking steps backwards and out of the way rather than towards them and freedom. That hope she kept holding onto felt even more foolish. The hope of something better or finally seeing her family again was growing weaker, and yet it was still there.
  This was where she was going to stay, whether she liked it or not.
  The eternity passed. It took Yulong ten minutes to realize that she was finally by herself in the dark torture chamber. 
  Adrian left her to her punishment and darkness without her noticing, leaving her to writhe in the numbness of pain on the concrete. She hadn’t realized that she had been sobbing on the ground, lying in the pool of her own blood with barely any clothes on. The numbness was welcoming, but it was quickly fading to give way to the pain which blinded almost everything around her, making her feel like she was completely alone in the dark room. It had been a long while since she had a complete meltdown like this, probably because she never let herself become as vulnerable as this.
  It only took a minute of catching her breath and recovering from the numbness before she could find what little strength to open her eyes to the stale gray wall. From the corner of her eye and as expected, there was a pool of blood where she had been whipped, some of it spattered across the wall where she had been holding onto the manacles. The manacles themselves had blood smeared across them, from her own bloodied hands. But it didn’t matter; the next day, the wounds from her punishment or her hands would be healed by the unknown power within her, but they would leave the scars that would cause her pain from then on.
  That unknown power was what made her valuable, and what made her a Mystic.
  Yulong rose to a kneeling position with what little strength she could muster up, facing the blood-spattered wall of the bunker of a basement and then looking down. The room was as big as a regular prison cell, and it was the place where she was left when she was done with her missions; it was up to His Highness whether or not she would be punished, and nowadays she was punished for sparing the targets instead of ending their lives.
  That was quite a beating you took there, boss, Whisper said, interrupting her thoughts.
  She didn’t look up or even acknowledge that he said something.
  I know you don’t like to talk much, he said, but you need to come out of that shell sooner or later and say something to me.
  No response.
  At least get your clothes back on, boss. You’re going to have company here soon.
  Nothing.
  Get up.
  She always hated when he was right and commanding. But with a shaky breath, Yulong rose from her position from her pool of blood. Her head spun at the sudden movement, causing her lean against the bloodstained wall for support till the darkness receded. Her breaths came out rapidly, the edges of her vision turning dark. A coughing fit arose, blood coming up and joining the stains on the wall in front of her. It took a few seconds before her breathing and vision returned to normal.
  You’re doing good. She knew that was a lie, but she gave the slightest nod. Now, pick up your clothes and put them on.
  Walking away from her puddle of blood, Yulong hobbled over to the pile of clothes she called her own. It took almost all of the strength she had left, but she managed to pull the sweater over her head and bloodied back. She’d grown accustomed to the pain by now, and knew that whatever materials that it was made of would always cause her pain no matter how she sliced it. It was pain she would deal with throughout the day, and it was something she would suffer in silence.
  Clunk
  The iron door that covered the exit of the torture chamber opened almost right after she pulled her jeans on. Yulong managed to narrow her eyes towards the man who had walked into the room while closing the door.
  His Highness held himself with poise, narrowing his cold blue eyes in return hers. His long white hair had been pulled back into a high tail this time, allowing it to cascade down his back. Instead of wearing his usual white robes, he was wearing more casual clothing: light gray jacket with matching jeans, and high boots. Despite what he was wearing, he still held himself as if he were the only thing that mattered in the room and like he viewed everything and one as something lower than him.
  “I see you’ve recovered nicely from Adrain’s training,” he remarked, his voice practically slithered down her spine, causing her to visibly shiver. “Are you ready for my questions?”
   Before she could think of an answer, Highness moved with inhuman speed and slammed her hard against the concrete wall. He twisted her arm in an uncomfortable position behind her back, causing her to cough up more blood. He twisted her hand to almost touch her back, which only amplified the pain. He pressed her head against the cool wall, applying pressure.
  Her vision blacked out for a few seconds as she coughed. She didn’t know if she was actually screaming in pain or if it was someone else, or if it was just her imagination. 
  “Where are the rest of the Six?” he asked, chill coating his words.
  “I–I don’t kno–know!” she gasped, repeating her answer for the billionth time. “Even if I did kno–know what the ‘Six’ are or ev–even where they are, I would never tell you! All the met–methods you have used wouldn’t make me talk.”
  Yulong heard him smile. “That’s where you underestimate me, Angel.”
  Then he let her go, snapping his fingers when she stumbled.
  She leaned against the wall again, trying to keep down whatever was left in her stomach and her coughing fits. The sound of the door being opened was when she finally looked behind her to see what His Highness was talking about or rather implying.
  She could hardly believe her eyes of who was dragged into the room.
  Her best friend, Huoyan Diyu, was beaten up and bloodied, yet he was conscious when the guards threw him in the torture room with them, closing the door with a loud thud. His blond hair was matted with blood, most likely his own. His clothes were tattered and worn, like he had been in multiple fights and had not had the chance to change. He was awake, but he didn’t fight. 
  When he looked up at her, Huoyan smiled. 
  Why he would be happy to see her, after all of what she’s done, she would never know; but the smile was almost infectious and almost made her want to smile with him. She didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing if she didn’t even have the strength to smile back at him. It wasn’t like she had the strength to even do anything else besides stand.
  “Hey, Yuly.” Huoyan pulled his iconic side grin. “I finally found you.”
  Highness raised a hand before she could even form the thought of rushing to him, feeling herself freeze in her steps. His Mystic power, Marionette, grabbed ahold of her, letting her only watch Huoyan writhe on the ground in pain.
  “Don’t even think about it, Angel,” Highness said, the sound of him smiling echoing in her ear.
  Breaking through his power only a little bit, she shot him a glare or what she could manage. “Don’t hur–hurt him,” she seethed. “He doesn’t nee–need to be involved.”
  “Oh, Angel, he’s been involved since the beginning,” Highness said nonchalantly. “Now, tell me where the rest of the Six are, or your friend here will die. I know how much he means to you, so you best choose wisely. You have a minute.”
  She stood there in disbelief. She knew that she could never lie to him, because he knew everything about her and her every thought. But if she told him the truth for the billionth time, he wouldn’t believe her and kill Huoyan. It was too risky to use her powers she has yet to understand, and it would most likely end up her killing Huoyan. 
  No matter how she played her cards, he would die.
  Don’t trust him or what deals he offers you, they’re too good to be true, Whisper voiced. You have to call it. He might be bluffing and keep Huoyan for a piece to use against you.
  And… if he isn’t bluffing?
  He hesitated. It’s a risk you need to be willing to take.
  “I…” she said after a moment of silence, lowering her gaze to the red floor. “I can–can’t give you informa–information I don’t have.”
  She heard him smile again. Shivers shot down her spine. 
  “You made your choice then.”
  Yulong felt all control over her body suddenly ripped away from her grasp, before she could even make any wounds of warning to Huoyan. Her ivory and obsidian knives slipped from their sheaves in the sweater to her open hands, then looked up at Huoyan. She watched herself walking toward him, unable to stop what was coming. She tried breaking free of Marionette, but it was too strong for her to handle. She was weak at the moment, and couldn’t do anything.
  Huoyan was managing to stand on his own, but he didn’t seem to comprehend what was going on. He stumbled, shaking his head to try and keep himself awake. He rubbed his head, smearing blood over his forehead, then glanced up at her, disbelief gathering in his eyes as he saw what she was going to do.
  Before he could say a word, Yulong moved with more speed and strength than she had moments before. She couldn’t feel the strength or energy, but she knew that it was there and that her body was using it. That strength powered through the pain and exhaustion, causing her to be faster than what she was before; the strength must’ve come from Highness himself. She was a blur and when she reached him, she plunged one of her knives in between his ribs, piercing the heart, and the other at the base of his neck, puncturing the windpipe.
  Blood spurted from his wounds, spattering onto her face and clothes. His expression showed surprise as he tried to say something, but the words were being drowned out by the blood gurgling in his mouth.
  Silence.
  When control was slowly transferred to her, she stared in horror when Huoyan gasped and fell into her arms. The both of them lowered to the ground as the phantom strength had disappeared and Huoyan’s body was growing more limp by the second. Blood started to drench his tattered clothes, and even her own. Falling to her knees, she made sure that he was set down softly as she could manage.
  Yulong made no move to remove the black and white knives, instead she carefully cradled him in her arms, not even caring about the blood that she was getting on herself. His breaths came in short spasms, his body shaking slightly as she held him gently. She knew that tears were streaming down her face, but she didn’t care. She pulled him in close, not intending on letting him go as she closed her eyes, as if it was going to help him.
  “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Yulong gripped him tighter, not wanting to let go of one of the people that gave her life. “Don’t go. Don’t leave––do not leave me! I’m–I’m sorr–– it wasn–wasn’t me––”
  “Yulong… I know.”
  Yulong pulled away to look at him in the eyes. 
  He was still smiling, even though there were knives sticking out of him. How he had the strength to smile or even not be drowned out by his blood was a mystery to her. But despite that, he still gave her a comforting smile, regardless of what she did to him. He always had that stupid smile, even when he was dying. But Huoyan was still happy, although everything around him was the opposite.
  “Yulong,” he said in a comforting voice, despite the life fading from his eyes. Blood streamed down the corner of his mouth. “I… trust you enough that… I know that… this was for… a good purpose… I know tha–that it wasn’t you… You would never do anything… like that wit–without a reason.”
  “I’ll fix it,” she said immediately, ignoring his comfort. “You’ll be bett–better. I can–– Jus–just don––”
  Huoyan interrupted her by singing softly.
  “There… is a green hill… on the moor…” 
  Their childhood song. The one that he taught her a long time ago, and the one that she sang when she was practicing swordplay. It was the song that always brought her peace, even during the hardest of times. It made her embrace him, starting to hum along to his broken singing.
  “One where… the red ferns grow… It is the green… hill of lore… but there is… wonders… and magic gal–galore… Listen to… the breeze… list–listen to… th–the song it… sings… As you wat–watch… with ease… you’ll se–see… yo–your dreams… dancing… on th–the… melody…”
  Huoyan’s body grew limp as he finished the song, devoid of life as the last note hanging in the air for almost too long. He was still smiling, even in death.
  Let… me… free… a deeper voice similar to Whisper’s, whispered.
  She let that note hang there for a second, before placing a soft kiss on his temple.
  “Ma–may you find res–rest with Mors… May yo–your so–soul find rest in the Spiritual Realm,” she recited softly, hesitating a moment before placing another kiss on his temple. “I love you,” she added quietly.
  Let… me… free…
  Yulong couldn’t bring herself to pull away from him. His warmth wasn’t going to last forever, but she wanted to keep him like that for… well, she didn’t know. She wanted to be beside him, for all the times when she wasn’t while he was. It was useless now, after what she did and him now passing onto the Spiritual Realm. She couldn’t do anything about it, only mourn for what Highness made her do and for him leaving her because of it.
  It was her fault for not giving him the truth she didn’t have, and Huoyan died because of it.
  Let me free…
  She only wanted to be with him, to make up the times where she hadn’t been with him because of her being trapped in this place. She wanted to let him know that no matter what she did or what he may hear about her, she was still Yulong. She barely recovered when she’d learned that her father had left them to pursue a different life, and Huoyan had been there every step of the way to help her through that. But now… she didn’t know how she would recover. 
  Could she ever recover?
  Let me free.
  Slowly placing his beaten and broken body on the ground, she reached over and closed his glassy, lifeless eyes and closed her own. Huoyan should at least appear resting in the Physical Realm. It would make her feel better, not that anyone else would see him like this besides her. But was she going to let him get away with this? Was she going to let Highness get away with trying to let her think that it was her fault?
  Let me free.
  The emotions she had been bottling up for the past few months–– no, years began to show through: the sorrow for what she had done, the pain because of her actions, and most of all, the anger towards the people who made her do this. They all blazed alight, fueling the remaining strength to be something stronger than before.
  Boss..? Boss? Boss, Whisper tried, desperation filling his voice. Yulong, please don’t do this.
  Let. Me. Free.
  Yulong’s hands shook when she opened her eyes, but they weren’t hers anymore.
  They were pitch black now. The exuded dark smoke, it trailing and wisping around her arms and body. Slowly, their veins started to become pitch black, pumping it throughout their whole body. When they opened their mouth the tiniest bit, streams of smoke poured out, joining the smoke from their eyes in wrapping itself around them. It shrouded them, protecting them; although from what, they hadn’t the faintest idea. What mattered is that it was protecting them.
  Energy flowed through their entire being, causing them to glow with a dark light from the smoke, which seemed to adsorb what little light in the room and convert it into energy. They felt like she could fight armies of Mystics, and still have plenty of energy left. This energy was almost overpowering at first, but it grew to a comfortable fire within them. It blazed hot, but it was strangely comfortable despite what Yulong had been going through. It made her hold herself in a stance she hadn’t used in a long time: one of confidence and strength.
  For the first time in her life, she had fully tapped into the deep and ancient reservoir within her; the one that Whisper constantly told her to not tap into.
  Finally, the deeper Whisper said, his voice stronger. Freedom.
  Through their smoky vision, they finally noticed that they were alone in the room and it seemed that Highness had left a while ago. They snarled––the sound coming out distorted––and reached out to summon Thyella. In an instant, the silvery one-edged blade, Thyella, fell into her open hand. It was a beacon of light with what power and emotions she was feeling right now, but they didn’t care about it like they would normally do. Whipping their free hand to the side, black ribbons of pure energy snapped in the air and zipped towards the door.
  Without a second thought, the sharpened, pitch black ribbons of pure energy––Death’s Threads––shred through the door like butter, the remnants falling to the ground with clatters. 
  Mors stepped over Huoyan’s body, glancing towards him. Their eyes turned to Yulong’s sapphire for a second, but it was smothered by the darkness as they bowed their head in respect towards the fallen warrior. He died with honor, knowing that Yulong would push through. He sacrificed himself so she could be free.
  They glanced up at the open doorway, then strode out of the door, not even thinking twice when the Threads tore through the two guards around her torture chamber, heir blood spattering all over the walls and her. They didn’t give the guard’s a second thought when she stepped over their bodies and pressed onwards to the rest of the building.
  Their faces will only haunt them for the rest of their life, but at least they were gone from the Physical Realm.
  Walking into the main room instilled surprise into the few dozen people there, then fear when they saw her in the state she was in. They were all wearing the black suits that Yulong was accustomed to seeing and knew to listen to them, but Mors wasn’t having it. He knew the anger Yulong held for them and how much she wanted to make them suffer for keeping her away from her family and friend. Those emotions were fueling their energy, and Mors was going to make good use of them.
  The suited men scrambled for their weapons, some of them pulling out their handguns and starting to pull the triggers. Mors grinned wickedly, laughing madly as the Threads––having minds of their own–– already emerged from their wounded back and zipping towards the men in suits. The men that were hit by the Threads screamed in agony, and they were only music to Mors’ ears. They felt no empathy as they cut off their escape as they swept their silvery blade in front of them, causing all the people in front of them––and perhaps beyond their sword length––to fall to the ground, writhing in pain.
  Blood spattered everywhere, and Mors unhinged grin grew larger with every person they cut through with either the Threads or with the glowing blade. Their shroud of smoke grew as they slew people; it made them feel more protected as they ripped bodies apart and furniture.
  More men in suits came to try and stop them, but they fell in seconds, their blood soaking Yulong’s tattered clothing and the floor below them. The more people came, the stronger Mors grew. He slaughtered, and Yulong made no effort to stop him. She knew that they deserved this, no matter how many faces were going to be added to her flashbacks or how much blood Mors would get on her hands. They needed to know how much they hurt her, even if they were only following orders.
  “I’m a killer,” they sang, their distorted voice breaking through the screams of their victims. “Nothing more, nothing less. This was what I was meant to do.”
  They flowed like the river, strong and powerful. Mors dodged all the shots the men made at them, only grinning as they let the Threads tear them to bloody shreds. Whoever got close, they used Thyella to sweep them away. Blood stained the beautiful blade, and that made Mors cackle with madness. The more people died by their hands, the better. They slaughtered people left in right, letting their blood mix with their own. It would make Yulong happy, and that’s what mattered with Mors. She was his host, and it hurt him to see her hurt so easily. He hopped on the chance Yulong was offering him, no matter how much his lighter self was telling him to stop. 
  If he wasn’t careful enough, he could kill her. But it didn’t look like Yulong was caring whether she lived or died; all she wanted was to see the end of Highness’ organization. Mors didn’t care who the people were, what they were wearing, or even what they were doing, all that mattered was that they were affiliated with Highness and he needed to end him.
  It felt like mere seconds had passed, and Mors was having the time of his life. His fun was soon ruined when they realized that they were knee-deep in bodies, their blood drenching almost everything in the mansion’s living area. Yulong felt like they should feel some sort of remorse, but it was quickly snuffed by Mors running their hand through their short, dark blue hair. They were the people that kept her here, never letting her roam unless it was for a job.
  With all these bodies dead around them, Mors figured that they were done here and could leave. They moved towards where they thought the exit was, trudging through the blood, body parts, and strewn furniture.
  Wait, Yulong whispered, causing Mors to stop. There’s one more thing we need to do.
  Mors tilted their head in confusion, then gave a mad laugh. “Of course.” They grinned. “How could I forget?”
  They walked through the mansion as if they knew the whole layout, which seemed to be the case with Mors. Mors held themselves high with confidence when they passed rooms, leaving bloody footsteps at their wake. Thyella trailed behind them, slicing cleanly through the carpet and ruining the finished wooden floor beneath. They hummed an unknown tune, turning to climb the stairs to the upper levels.
  More men in suits appeared at the top of the stairway, but Mors barely gave them a glance as the Threads tore through them and the people behind them, no matter where they might have been hiding. The men in front of them and behind screamed, and Mors grinned when they fell to the ground in bloody heaps. They walked over their bodies with ease, following them to the fallen men to a door that had many people surrounding it.
  Mors cocked their head at the door to Highness’ office. What, did he not expect a Fragment to easily get through his guards? he thought, the smoke swirling around their hand. With a single thrust, the smoke pushed through the door, breaking it from its hinges and sending it flying across the room.
  Highness simply moved out of the way of the door, raising an eyebrow at Mors’ state. He stood behind a desk littered with papers, the floor filled with crumpled pieces, but kept relatively tidy. It seemed to be too dark in there, but it made Mors feel comfortable. The darkness held the smoke, away from Highness’ vision.
  “Ah, Angel.” Highness picked up a few pieces of paper, placing them into a neat pile. “I assume you’re here to answer my––”
  Mors didn’t let him finish his sentence. Death’s Threads shot from their wounded back, impaling themselves into Highness’ torso. The force from the ribbons slammed Highness into the wall behind him, anchoring him there. He screamed in pain, and partially from surprise, coughing up blood; apparently, he didn’t expect them to hurt as much as they did. It made sense, since they tore away at both the physical body and the soul.
  “You know? Yulong thought about it, but she didn’t agree,” Mors said, their distorted voice crackling. They walked up to Highness’ immobile body.  “So I came in, and took care of your little operation. There’s no point in asking either me or her those questions.”
  More Threads came, this time with sharper ends than before, and halted before impaling themselves into his neck. It was then when Highness showed true fear. His eyes widened, his body struggling to move, away from being touched again by the Threads.
  “Give me a reason,” they snapped, “to not let your face judgment. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t end you. Give me a Ko’ad forsaken reason why I should let you walk Zvso.”
  Highness seemed to be at a loss for words, staring down in fear at the Threads.
  “Alright then.” The Threads twitched towards his neck.
  “Wait!” Highness exclaimed, the ribbons mere inches away from his neck.
  “What, sordes?”
  “If you kill me,” he said carefully, finding his confidence again. He looked up at them, a cruel smile finding its way on his face. “Yulong’s family will be killed in return. I’ve had assassins placed there if I die, they will kill her family.”
  Mors narrowed their eyes at him, the color flickering from black to Yulong’s sapphire and back to black.
  The both of them had no reason to trust him, but they knew that Highness never bluffed when it came to these kinds of things. That was proven earlier with Huoyan. It was either have revenge at the cost of her family, or let him live and build his organization again with the chance of him finding her again and torturing her for information, and making her murder innocent people.
  It’s your call. Mors held their stance towards Highness, waiting for Yulong’s response.
  He could feel that she wanted to make him pay. She wanted to see him bleed, feeling every ounce of pain that he had her go through, and even more for all the people he forced her to kill without reason. Everything he has ever done to her and her family, she wanted to see done to him. It would make him pay for what happened with Huoyan.
  No, she found herself saying. My family isn’t worth the life of this man. He’ll pay with his blood eventually, but not now.
  Mors had mixed feelings about it, but eventually let Highness fall to the ground and turned to walk out the door.
  Highness coughed, but smiled. “You won’t have the strength to get to your family in time,” he muttered, as they walked out the door. “Even the Six have limitations.”
  Mors stopped listening, knowing that he would spout more lies; although he knew that they rang some truth. Yulong didn’t need to fall under the impression that they wouldn’t be powerful here soon, but at least her family would be safe, she would have her family to go home to. Yet little to their knowledge, Highness had already murdered them in cold blood, just as they had slaughtered his organization.