Dark Star: The Lowly Guardian |ONC 2023|

The Sharp Claws of Grief

Zhenxing screamed.

He screamed until his throat tore and his voice gave up. 

He wasn't sure how the Tiger Immortal was lifted from the bath and laid beside the pool. If he had done it or one of the servants had.

Sprawling forward onto the Tiger Immortal, Zhenxing pressed an ear to his chest. No sound welcomed him. No familiar, steady thump of the Immortal's wild heart. No whoosh of air in those mighty lungs.

Nothing. Nothing but the quiet stillness of death.

Zhenxing buried his face against Hu Ye's chest, ignoring the blood smearing his skin. Wrong. It was wrong.

The Tiger Immortal couldn't die. It wasn't possible.

Fingers made of gold and amber pawed at him, pulling at him, but he refused to be moved. Zhenxing hovered over his Lord's body, snarling and violent when anyone else dared to come too close. After he shattered two amber maids and severely dented three golden servant boys, the remaining servants fled, sure the attendant had gone completely insane.

Until Zhenxing was alone with his Lord. Only then was he docile, almost catatonic, unable to accept what his eyes were telling him was true.

Time slipped by in a cloudy haze until a voice shattered the air. "Hu Shen!"

Zhenxing looked up, his eyes blurry, to find the Dragon Immortal storming into the bathing room. Her golden robes fluttered as she ran across the pool, leaving barely any trace of passage except a few ripples. 

Her wise, silver eyes swept over the scene before her. Hu Shen was unmoving, blood staining his lips, not a whisper of his spiritual power left in him. Then, there was the pitiful servant. Hu Shen's little human cub, feral and stripped raw by grief. His hair was disheveled, his white inner robe soaking wet, his face smeared with the blood of his master.

The Dragon Immortal looked at her shidi—her younger martial brother—then at his attendant. The boy had laid back down, his head resting over Hu Shen's silent heart, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His grief was a palpable thing, raking tiger claws down her hide.

"Xing-er," she called softly, remembering how Hu Shen had always coddled his human cub.

With that, the boy stood. He stared blankly at Hu Shen's body, then turned eyes like black pearls on the Dragon Immortal. His face went from white to a sick grayish color moments before a torrent of blood sprayed from his mouth. The Dragon Immortal caught him as he collapsed, rapidly tapping his qi points, blocking the flow of spiritual energy before he could suffer a serious deviation.

Hu Shen would never forgive her if she allowed his darling attendant to explode.

The Dragon Immortal gently laid the unconscious boy beside his master, then called her own attendant. The young dragon came quickly into the room and bowed, waiting for her orders.

Sadness welling in her chest, the Dragon Immortal knelt, stroking Hu Shen's dark hair. "Bring the cub to the Dragon Palace. And send word to His Majesty." She looked up, silver eyes flashing. "There has been a murder in his realm."

                                                                           ~*~*~*~

Zhenxing woke slowly, fighting against consciousness. His eyes resisted, like they couldn't bear to witness what they would see when they opened. His muscles twitched and shivered, his meridians buzzing as energy swirled, stagnated. He could taste blood in his mouth and wondered if he too had died, exploding in a shower of blood and spiritual energy after suffering a bad qi deviation.

That would make sense, he decided, after what had happened. And it would be okay.

He did not want to exist in a plane that no longer held the Tiger Immortal.

"You are not dead, little cub."

Fuck.

Zhenxing opened his eyes, disappointed by the sight that greeted him. Disappointed that he was still alive when his Lord no longer drew breath. 

The Dragon Immortal's attendant gave him a sympathetic look, like she understood what thoughts were flying through his mind. She stood from where she had been waiting beside his bed.

"You are in the Dragon Palace as my Lady's guest. You have been unconscious for two hours." She cupped her hands before her and dipped her head, offering courtesy. "My deepest condolences."

Zhenxing sat up, his entire body hurting. Pain ripped down his skin but he ignored it and got out of the bed. He swayed like he was drunk, the Dragon attendant gently catching his arm.

"Where—"

"This way," she said, voice kind as she began to guide him from the room.

Normally, pride would have forced him to shake off her hold on his arm. As it was, Zhenxing wasn't certain he could make it even a few steps before falling. Pride no longer mattered. All that mattered was being by his Lord's side.

Tears distorted his vision and he soon gave up trying to find his own way, content to let the Dragon attendant guide him through the soaring, elegant halls of the Dragon Palace. The lofty ceilings were cerulean blue, supported by graceful columns of marble so white and delicate, it was almost sheer. Everything about the Dragon Palace was reminiscent of the sky.

But the world had lost its splendor to Zhenxing, and not even the wonders of the Heavenly Realm could pull him from his now-grey existence. 

Zhenxing passed through silver halls in a fog of oblivion until they entered a room illuminated by only a few candles.

There, lying in repose, was the Tiger Immortal.

Shaking so badly he thought he'd fall, Zhenxing shuffled forward until he was standing beside his Lord. His hair had been dried and fixed, not a strand out of place. His face was clean, his expression peaceful, as though he was simply resting here in this dark, stuffy room.

Zhenxing knelt down, staring at that beautiful, still face. He did not notice when the Dragon attendant left.

Someone had dressed him in the robe meant for tonight's banquet. Crying again, Zhenxing slowly smoothed the elegant, flowing sleeves, tugging at the crisp collar. Red silk shimmered in the candlelight, catching and absorbing the flame until it seemed to glow. Gentle swirls of golden thread turned into flames, which morphed into a riot of fire poppies. The colors matched his golden complexion—still present and perfect even in death—and evoked the destructive and creative energy of fire with every stitch.

Truly, Lady Zhi Nu outdid herself, Zhenxing thought, fingers still adjusting and straightening and smoothing.

Until he realized that the silk was still cold. Hu Ye's chest was still unmoving.

He was still dead.

Something inside Zhenxing broke, a torrent of something malevolent clawing its way out. Distantly, he knew he was supposed to remain composed, but how could he?

How could he, when his beloved Tiger Immortal was lying dead before him!

Zhenxing screamed. He howled and wailed and tore at his hair, his clothes. He beat at his chest and ripped his nails down his face, not noticing as they turned to claws and drew blood. His grief consumed him until there was nothing left to consume. Until all Zhenxing was, was an empty vessel filled only with bitter grief.

Only then did he kneel quietly.

Only then did the Dragon Immortal allow the doors to be opened, and the other Guardians to file in.

Word Count: 1184

Total: 4637