Ninth Lie

1. A Thousand Sorrows

This chapter may be a little confusing since it's in a first person point of view and QianYou is obviously very confused as of now. The story will get more clear as the plot progresses. But if you have any questions (if you even make it through the entire chapter) feel free to message me or comment your concern. Also, please look at hyenalana and give her stories a chance. She is a wonderful artist, a talented writer, and a great friend. (Cover and images all done by her ^-^)

The light. The nightmare. Have I just woken from a sleepless slumber? Why does my throat seem like it has been scorched by flames? My heart wrenched out from inside me. "DiXin..." My only response is the silence of the room, foreign to my memory. Perhaps he is outside, busy with governmental affairs. Maybe he has waged war against yet another rebelling tribe. "DiXin!" He will hear me now, surely. Then again, why does my scream sound like an animal's desperate wail.

A maid comes scurrying in, stopping by my bedside. Only she isn't wearing clothes of the mortal realm but instead those of the heavenly court. No... They can't. "What have you done with him!" My voice comes out in an inhuman hiss. Her head remains bowed to the ground. "Please, tell me where he is." I reach out to grab her hand, but my arm falls limply to my side, refusing to move. She hurries away without uttering a single word, as if she had never once come.

I inch toward the bedside, shaking from the effort. Has the court stripped me of my powers? I must go find him. Desperation truly is the willpower for life. My legs hang limply at the side of the bed, cut of paper rather than chiseled from stone. With a final push, I stood once more as a human. But this time, your arms don't protect me. So I crash towards the hard marble floor, tears streaming down my face. DiXin, what have they done with you. What have I done to you.

You once told me that crawling is a sign of submission, but how else am I supposed to find you and save you. Finger by finger, inch by inch, I squirm across the cold floor. Not as the regal nine-tailed fox, but as a slug seeking dear life. My fangs dig into the sides of my mouth, drawing the sweet flavor of blood. The salty taste of tears finds the metallic tang of blood, blending into a thousand sorrows. 

"Your inferior court servant apologizes for arriving too late," a cool, emotionless voice sounds from above me. Even raising my head by an inch threw me to the border of life and death.

The God of Marriage. Does the Heaven Mother wish to punish me so much for my disobedience that she sends him, this lowly ranked outcast?

From my position on the floor, I am bowing at his feet, as if I am praying to him. Never once in the past would I have thought of such disgrace. Only that today, I am. Like a mere mortal, seeking the favor of the gods. "Let me see the red strings of fate," I plead, tears still running down the my cheeks. If our strings are still yet attached, I could still find him. Even in another life. I will love him again.

"Your inferior fears that he may not let you see the red strings, no mortal may see the strings even if they stand directly in front of it," he looks straight into my eye with a hint of revenge. Or was it guilt masked by pity?

I am not a mortal. I never was and never will be. I am the Messenger of the Heaven Mother.

He seemed to see through my mind, "A nine-tailed fox without even a single tail is as powerless as a mortal, if not more feeble. Especially one that fell prey to a mortal. Even a fox without magic will shun you as their own."

On instinct, I lunge for his throat. Of imbalance, I fall at his feet in a position that was worse than before. Where my nine tails were, only a bloody stump remained. Sprawled on the floor, I laughed, I choked, I cried, and laughed some more. 

If I cannot see the strings of fate, I will see the records of the underworld. Have you forgotten that even without powers, a messenger of the court could freely transport between the three realms. I am not as powerless as you think. Clawing onto the base of his legs, I take him to hell. 

Literally.