#divinityshackled

Xiao Hua was determined to remain defiant. Though her eyes averted, fluttering under the burning gaze of those brown eyes. It was hard not to look at them, but it was equally hard to look anywhere else.

She could just smack him with the broom, she thought, it was right there white-knuckled in her hands. Yet she knew that was unbecoming of the shrine keeping image she was trying to perform. She had promised she would behave and she was not one to break promises. She could think it, though.

Impossibly small hooves tapped against the wooden floor, one behind the other until her back touched the walls of their tiny shrine. Those stupid eyes, that stupid smile, that stupid crooked ponytail he never fixed after Xie Lian’s hands had touched his hair— he was just all over stupid, stupid, stupid! She knew flies that were less annoying!

And yet Xiao could not voice her displeasure, for in the end, San Lang hadn’t exactly done anything to warrant it. The opposite, frustratingly. For being the son of some noble, he was quite the handy man. Their door was fixed, as was the patchy roof, and the yard looked ten times better than it did before. She hated that he was this useful and apparently wanted nothing in return.

A lie. Men always wanted something, even if they never voiced it. So her guard remained up, higher than usual, whenever he was around. Which meant it was up all the time—and she was getting rather exhausted by it.

Far away—everything felt so far away. Her skin numb, her heart beat racing in her ears. Her vision was interrupted again and again, one moment bathed in the warm red hues of Paradise Hall, and then just as quickly taken over by the cold dark of the forest she had called home not long ago.

Back to the present—was it… though? Was she not—had she not always been in her forest? Leaving was such a frightening thought. The world outside so unfamiliar and unknown to her. She never wanted to leave the knowing comfort of her roots. Surely she wouldn’t have left. She never would have entertained the thought of leaving her only home. And yet she stood in a place both familiar and strange, warm and welcoming despite everything inside shouting at her to leave.

This was her home. The scented air, the draping curtains, the music, the sounds of people outside. The loving, expecting arms of those who proved time and time again they she was right where she should be. How could she think otherwise?

No, you’re home is the forest. Your only family, the roots. The voice creaked in the back of her mind like the bending bough of the trees she left behind.

Pale hands swept across the nearest surface to steady herself, the clatter of decorative dishes or some such things breaking the tension in the room. The voice reaching her called out from the darkness between the crowding tree trunks. Luring her further in? Or helping her find a way out? Calm and steady, but spoken as if under water. From where the voice came was a light, like a lantern, and she felt compelled to follow.

Brighter and brighter it became, soon overtaking the memory of her forest. And through the haze of yellows her vision finally returned, focusing on a familiar face. Those honey-gold eyes filled with worry… but why? Her own glassy eyes blinked once, twice, and she felt as if she had suddenly woken up from a dream.

Oh, her head. It swam and hurt all at once, even with fingers pressed against her eyebrows. What had happened? She had been in one of the gathering halls what felt like seconds ago, but this was one of the many unused chambers somewhere in the palace. Why had she come here? Xie Lian's expression looked so concerned and searching her own, and suddenly she felt terrible.

How strange, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out. Yun Fei had always thought to be pierced by sword would be an excruciating thing. And it was - forgivingly - only for a moment. Then the pain seemed to disperse, like dye in water, no longer focused to her chest. A dull, strange ache that left her body feeling strange, almost tingling. Her fingers felt cold, but her chest felt so warm.

Though she knew she was a simple girl, she had fallen into the thought that she would persevere, despite everything. The war, the collapse, the disease, fleeing. Somehow she had survived it all, and yet while she never thought herself invincible, the thought of falling by sword had never crossed her mind. If anything, she had spent most of her time fearing the fate would befall one of the others. They were the ones more likely to be placed in such dangers, fighters as they were. She was simply a servant, a speck of dirt in the grand scheme of things such as wars and gods.

Her view had changed, though she couldn't remember when she had lied down. Now she could see the sky, and a face obscured by a strange haziness, like her eyes couldn't focus. But she knew that voice, she always liked hearing that voice. Though she wasn't his personal servant, their paths often crossed within the palace. Dagger to her heart, she could never say anything horrible about their beloved Prince, even now. Perhaps she was always silly, perhaps she was clouded by a loyalty to the royal family, but her words would always be true.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing as much of a smile into her voice as she could. I'm fine, that's what she always said. When they walked for hours, when they slept in harsh conditions, when she hadn't eaten a thing in two days. She was always fine.

A taste of copper was strong, and try as she might, her exhales caused red to trail from the corner of her mouth. Unsightly, but for some reason she could hardly lift her arms to wipe it away. The more she tried, the less she seemed able to do so, the command losing its way between her mind and her arm.

The door creaked open as Xiao Hua slipped inside, careful not to disturb the peace blanketing Puqi Shrine. Night had fully settled, shadows and a serene hush filled the room. Incense from earlier prayers hung faintly in the air, the sticks reduced to ash on the altar table. A bowl of persimmons had been offered some time during the day. The others must have retired hours ago, so she took quiet, deliberate steps, tidying away older offerings and setting out fresh incense stands. This way, there would be nothing left to tend to come morning.

Puqi Shrine had changed since its early days. What was once an open space split between shrine and living quarters, now served as the heart of the shrine itself, modestly partitioned and decorated in a style fitting to standard shrines. Anyone who knew it from before might not recognize the place, except in name. Towards the back of the room, hidden by a beautifully painted partition of white cascading flowers was the door leading to the rest of the living space.

Xiao Hua had spent all day within Puqi village, her mind undeniably weary. However, if Xie Lian and Hua Cheng had gone to bed already, her entering the room and readying for bed was bound to disturb them. Perhaps, tonight, she would take the spare room down the hall. She carefully walked down the hallway, thankful that the center was run with a carpet and thus muffled her footsteps. However, her quiet maneuvering had been in vain. The moment she reached the doors to the master bedroom, a warm, amber glow filtered through the gap. Candlelight flickered steadily, joined by the soft glow of lanterns. Those two, steadfast as ever, had waited up, making sure to fill the room with the tender light that would greet her home.

Xiao Hua sighed, casting a long look at both of their wide-eyed, overly 'innocent' faces. She had often told them to not wait up for her if she was out late. Her expression said it all: 'I’m too tired to lecture you tonight, but rest assured- it’s coming.' Resigning herself, she crossed to her small corner of the room, where she had claimed a simple space for her belongings and readying area with mirror and dresser.

A short while later, she reappeared, her modest hair ornaments tucked safely away, now wearing only a light sleeping robe. She dared to think she could make it to the bedside table without incident, but before she even registered the movement, arms wrapped securely around her waist, lifting her easily off her feet. In one smooth motion, she was nestled firmly between them on the large, welcoming bed they now shared- luxurious compared to the modest straw mat of before. Hua Cheng, ever insistent on providing nothing short of the finest furnishings, had insisted on outfitting their quarters with the best his generosity could offer, and she had to admit, she’d grown used to the softness, allowing her to easily drift to sleep.

The comb glided through his hair in gentle, deliberate strokes from crown to tip. One rebellious lock refused to be tamed, curling stubbornly with each pass of the comb, such was Xie Lian’s persistent bedhead. Xiao Hua gathered his hair at his back, wanting to ensure every last tangle was smoothed out before letting him take over to style it as he preferred. She found quiet contentment in these early morning rituals; sleepy-eyed, yawning, pulling on robes, and taming unruly hair, though her own was rarely ever truly tamed, no matter how much it was brushed.

But there was always something that caught her attention in these moments. She’d noticed it before, from the front, once or twice when she glanced at him before. And now, as she combed through his hair, the light revealed the same strange pattern on his back. For a brief moment, she wondered what it was, though deep down, she already knew. But seeing it like this, etched into his skin and illuminated by the morning light, gave it a new clarity.

Scars were expected, common even, especially for someone like Xie Lian. But these... these were different. They crisscrossed his skin in a complex web, more intricate and numerous than she had realized, seemingly more concentrated towards the center of his chest. The fact that they were similar on his back. He had told her before about battles he had participated in in his past, but could such fighting really leave one's skin so marred? So deliberate?

Truly, words of comfort to muffled ears. Soup was meant to heal the soul and provide nourishment, but its effectiveness often depended on the hands that crafted it. Unfortunately, she had learned this lesson through the unpleasant experiences of others.

Propped up in her bed--more a nest of blankets than a proper resting place--she radiated illness. Her normally pale skin glowed with fever, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue, and her nose, already naturally pink, was now an angry shade of red. Exhaustion clung to her, and she felt she might slip into unconsciousness at any moment, yet the discomfort coursing through her body kept her from truly sleeping.

The soup in question was a beloved staple: congee, albeit a bit more watery than usual. A mysterious oily sheen floated on top, stubbornly refusing to mix into the mush, no matter how much one stirred, and it seemed rather.. gray in color than the usual white. It felt cruel to refuse such a thoughtful gesture. With a quiet sigh, she accepted the offered spoonful-- an act she always enjoyed, despite her current state. She sank back into the wrinkled pillows, half-dazed.

All morning, the sky had been shrouded in a blanket of gray clouds, casting a dull, melancholic light over the world. Her gaze frequently drew to the window, watching.. waiting. And then the gentle rush of rain filled the quiet of the shrine. Though she had managed to restrain herself for a while, the sight of puddles beginning to form on the yard’s surface finally broke her resolve. She found herself outside, treading through the puddling water, her delicate hooves stirring up the soft, earthy mud that clung to her robes.

Xie Lian’s voice drifted from the shrine’s window, his tone, always soft and soothing, was nearly swallowed by the rain’s steady whisper. She turned to face him with a defiant huff and puff of her cheeks, and stamped the puddle. She bounded to another, her movements light and joyous against the backdrop of the dreary day.

Red. It was the color that greeted Xiao Hua as she stepped cautiously along the path from the small gate to the entrance. Crimson stains speckled across packed dirt, leading her gaze upward to where the wooden stairs awaited. Each step seemed to echo with an unsettling foreboding. In her hands, she held a basket brimming with the fruits of her day's labor—various roots gathered for food and medicinal salves. Yet, as the gravity of the scene before her took hold, the basket slipped from her grip, scattering its precious contents across the floor with a clatter that seemed to shatter the silence of the shrine.

The blood she saw was not the result of an animal’s misfortune. Though she had never wished harm upon creatures, she had hoped for such a simple explanation. The truth was far more alarming.

On the straw mat lay the young man, Xie Lian, not resting but seemingly having collapsed, his body crumpled with his back facing her. His once-pristine white robes were now marred by dark, spreading splotches of red, suggesting severe wounds concealed beneath. The quiet of the shrine was pierced by the soft, hurried tap of her footsteps on the wooden floor, her previous evening’s plans entirely forgotten in the wake of growing anxiety.

Her hands trembled as she reached out to turn him over, but her fingers curling instinctively into fists. Was it too forward to worry so deeply? She had known Xie Lian only a short while—was it too soon to feel this much concern? Should she seek other's help? Was there time?

With deliberate care, she grasped his shoulder and upper arm, gently maneuvering him onto his back. His face was pale, his cheeks flushed with fever. Her fingertips brushed his forehead, pushing aside the damp, sweat-slicked strands of hair that clung stubbornly to his skin. A fever.