Blood on the Altar (HuaLian TGCF)

Chapter 2

Helpless in the demon's arms the world blurs around Xie Lian. At first he thinks it's the blood loss effecting his senses but then the world grows solid again. His vision is still hazy and that truly is the loss of blood but his surroundings, as they come back into focus, are completely different.

He's in a bedroom, large and royal and at the center is a large bed, its covers and canopy all in crimson. 'Lord Crimson Rain' The demon's title returns to him. Is this the demon's lair?

The demon strides quickly across the room, pushes the canopy aside and lowers Xie Lian gently onto the bed. Xie Lian tenses, a new fear coming to him. Why would a demon bring his sacrifice to a bed unless...

He's not in a state to fight back. He's not in a state to do anything. He can't defend himself or his body or his cultivation or...

As the demon leans over him Xie Lian tries to shift away as best he can but blood loss has made him weak and he's lightheaded from lack of air, most of it lost to his torn throat, and the damage to his shoulders must be worse than he thought because he can't seem to move his arms. Unconsciousness would be a gift and death would be a blessing but Xie Lian is the most unlucky man alive and his body will not save him from this.

"Please lay still. Your highness."

There is some deep emotion in the demon's voice but before Xie Lian can figure out what it is, he's distracted from it by the demon's hands on the collar of his robes, pulling them off and down to bare the skin beneath. Xie Lian shudders at the touch, fear and horror coursing through him in equal measure. The demon stills then, his single eye dark, his expression unreadable.

"I'm not going to hurt you." His words are gentle, as though speaking to a frightened animal. Something in Xie Lian wants to trust them but that's probably just the pain and the fear, the broken part of him still pinned on that alter, desperate for comfort of any kind, but he knows better than to trust this comfort, after all White No Face too could be kind.

The demon's hands return to his robes pulling them down far enough to bare his shoulders completely and Xie Lian's eyes sting with tears of pain and helplessness, but then the demon sits back, raising a hand, and silver butterflies rise from his bracer to fill the space around them. Xie Lian's eyes widen at the sight for the butterflies are beautiful, truly beautiful, and Xie Lian wonders how something so beautiful can come from something so evil.

Then the butterflies descend on him, landing lightly on his chest and shoulders and neck. Xie Lian feels a light tingling across his skin as they move along his body, their tiny feet brushing over him. He tries to watch them, even with his blurred vision, but it's hard when they congregate on his shoulders and his neck.

...His shoulders and his neck. Could they be feeding from his blood? Was that what the demon meant when he said he wasn't going to hurt Xie Lian, that /he/ wasn't because Xie Lian was to be food for his beautiful pets?

An itching spreads out from the spots the butterflies touch. It's a familiar feeling, one he's felt many times over the years as skin nits back to skin, and a sudden thought comes to Xie Lian's blurred mind.

"...W-what?" The word leaves his mouth instinctively and to his shock he can actually hear it, his voice hoarse and raspy and still barely audible, but there.

...The butterflies are healing him.

...Why would the demon want to heal him?

"Your highness?" The demon asks but Xie Lian's mind is far away.

He remembers waking on an alter in a destroyed burnt out temple, a black sword being pressed into his hand, and the cry smiling mask of the man who handed it to him, and he remembers how his body was then, unscarred and unmarked and perfect. He remembers, days later, standing before a mirror to examine his bare skin and finding it again unscarred, again, unmarked, again perfect, like a mask forced on him to hide the ugly truth of what that black sword had done to him, a body broken and desecrated and yet without a single mark.

"Scars..." The word comes out in a hoarse whisper and the demon leans forward, his expression puzzled.

"What was that?"

"Leave... Scars..." It's still hard to speak but he forces the words out anyway. Maybe the demon will ignore him, maybe he'll laugh and mock Xie Lian for his words, but he has to try, he has to. "Please..."

The demon doesn't laugh, instead his eye widens and something flickers across his face which might be confusion and might be pain. "As you wish."

Xie Lian's mind begins to drift away after that. His breathing is easier now with the gash in his throat quickly healing but the butterflies can only nit his body back together, not return the blood that now stains the demon's alter. After a little while the itching fades and the butterflies raise from his body, fluttering back into the demon's bracer.

"Is this what you wanted? Or should I have them continue?"

"I..." Xie Lian begins then stops. His voice is still slightly raspy, as though perhaps the scarring left behind is still too much to leave it completely unmarked, but Xie Lian doesn't want to be unmarked and so he nods, even though it sets his head spinning. "This is fine."

He tries to move his hands and finds that yes, his fingers respond to him now just as well as they ever have. "...Thank you." It feels strange to thank the demon, the Lord with the powers of White No Face, the Lord whose alter Xie Lian has been sacrificed on, but the demon did heal him and he listened when Xie Lian asked him to leave the scars, so what else is Xie Lian to say?

He expects laughter at his words or mockery or to be told he now owes the Lord a life debt, but to his surprise the demon only inclines his head.

"Your highness has no need to thank me. It was my own carelessness that let this happen."

The words are strange to Xie Lian's ears, filled with some deep emotion, and Xie Lian knows he should try to understand them, but the haze of blood loss drowns his mind and he finds that he can't focus well enough to make anything of them. In fact, it's not just the demon's words. Xie Lian's whole world seems to be slipping away. With an effort of will born from 800 years of wandering, Xie Lian struggles to cling onto consciousness.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Whatever expression the demon makes is lost to the blurring in his mind and the darkness rapidly overtaking his vision, but when he speaks his voice is gentle. "I won't do anything to you. Now rest, your highness. You will be safe here. I swear it on my ashes."

Xie Lian tries to fight, tries to cling on to consciousness, but his body betrays him as it always does, keeping him alive when he wants to die, drowning him in sleep when he wants to stay awake.

As he drifts into black nothingness, Xie Lian's last thought is that, for the demon to have ashes, he must be a ghost.