The Last Dahlia

041

"Isn't this the symbol of Horanjit?" she mused.

They had seen the exact same image carved across fallen pillars and walls at the temple ruins. Horanjit's guardian beast—that had failed to protect its charges when darkness befell them. This was why Yuehwa didn't believe in gods and stars. Even if they existed, they were too far away to care.

She yanked off the stopper and pulled out a piece of parchment that had been rolled within, flimsy and brittle with age. It was filled with neat, cursive script, barely a quarter the height of her fingernail.

"What's this? Some riddle? It makes no sense."

"A life for a life, a soul for a soul, and from the darkness comes the dawn," Shoya read out loud, letting each character roll off his tongue and sink into his mind.

"That's not what it says!" Yuehwa said, pointing at the words that he had recited as "darkness" and "dawn".

"It's an interpretation based on an old folktale that's common in northern Feng. The story likens the Taotie to the eternal night, and the Fenghuang, the phoenix that eventually overcomes the monster, to the rising sun. Darkness and light," he explained. "I think this is the answer we're looking for. A way to overcome dark magic. The monks of Horanjit must have discovered this through their years of research, and they shared it with Hwang Nanzhe so that he could wield it against the Wudi empire."

"This? This is the miracle cure that will save the kingdoms?" Yuehwa tossed the piece of parchment to Shoya. "Should I slaughter a chicken in front of the altar? A life for a life right?"

Shoya read through the words on the parchment once more, carefully scouring the edges to make sure that they weren't missing anything. He found nothing else, nothing except the few characters that left them with yet another puzzle to solve.

A life for a life, a soul for a soul.

Sacrifice. But what of?

It was a pity the records of the war between Hwang Nanzhe and the Wudi empire were so sparse. Having come from the mountains wielding twin swords in his callused hands, keeping historical records had not been a high priority for the first king of Feng and much of what was known today had been passed down via word of mouth. Legends and folktales, embellished with bells and whistles, almost half of which was certain to be untrue.

He had asked Sheng Yun about Hwang Nanzhe's history, but even she had little information to offer.

Soft footsteps pattering against the stone flooring distracted them from their discovery, and the waif-like figure of Xin'ai, Sheng Yun's only disciple, appeared at one of the archways leading to this octagonal room. The girl paused, her large, olive-shaped eyes staring fixedly at Yuehwa.

There was something in those eyes that made Shoya uncomfortable, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Curiosity, pity, and... sorrow? Those dark irises were glistening with a reflective sheen, as if there were tears misting their surfaces.

She quickly lowered here head and dropped to an awkward curtsey. "Your Highnesses, I have been sent to fetch you. The crown prince of Gi has awoken," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Already?" Yuehwa blinked back her surprise. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected any less from Baixun's resolve." She marched past Xin'ai and disappeared through the archway, making her way to the guest room where Baixun was housed at.

Shoya hung behind a moment longer, observing the way Xin'ai's gaze followed Yuehwa cautiously and lingered there even after the fiery princess-regent had gone. He cleared his throat lightly to get her attention.