"I was told that when our older brothers and sisters finally got here, everyone was already dead," RyuXin stated, firmly making his way towards the door on the left, that opened to a wide, equally empty corridor, the darker areas on the walls suggesting that there had been a time when large paintings had embellished that place.
"There were dead bodies everywhere, simply lying there, where they had fallen. Apparently you managed to kill them all at the same time, servants included. No one managed to escape. Which is pretty amazing!" RyuXin declared, glancing back at him with the first true excited smile Snow had seen on his face. "Do you know how you did it?"
Snow shook his head.
It was a lie. He knew exactly how he'd done it. That red array … it had to be it. Which also meant that, unlike his ice daitai, he had to have been born with those markings already on his back … They weren't the product of something he had experienced during his childhood. Which also explained why things hadn't worked out at all, when ZaiWin had tried to activate them the same way he had done for his other daitai.
Snow bit down on his lower lip.
Whenever he was faced with the true nature of those horrible daitai he couldn't help wonder if he was really a Tien'Elhar … How could a Tien'Elhar be born with such destructive daitai like his? And yet, if he hadn't been born without them … would he still be alive right now?
"That's such a shame," RyuXin sighed. "It would be awesome if you could use that power whenever you want. Can you imagine? No one would ever be able to bully you! But InnArg told us that it would probably only work as a defense mechanism. Oh! InnArg is our oldest bother. Actually, he is old enough to be more like a father to most of us."
Snow's eyes widened in disbelief.
"How old is he?"
"Hmm … fifty something?" RyuXin replied with an uncertain expression on his face.
Snow gaped.
"You'll meet him, eventually. He's really nice. And he was really worried about you, when we realized that you had disappeared again. Especially after we found the old man's dead body in that cavern covered in ice."
Snow fidgeted nervously.
"I'm … really sorry about what happened," he declared in a small whisper.
RimJan had talked about the old man as if his death were of no importance. In fact, Snow was sure he felt worse about it than she had felt. But he couldn't assume that everyone would feel the same way. Holy man, she'd call him. Didn't that sound like the tittle of an important person? He dreaded just thinking that the old man might have been closely related to any of them, which would inevitably lead to a very awkward situation, to say the least.
"You have nothing to apologize for. After all, you weren't the one who killed him," RyuXin replied, his voice sounding suddenly cold and harsh, and Snow couldn't help wince.
No. He hadn't killed him. ZaiWin had. Because of him. He just hoped that that harsh tone of voice didn't mean anything else, besides how much RyuXin disliked things like killing and death. He didn't want any of them going after ZaiWin because of what had happened. And it wasn't as if he was especially worried about ZaiWin. The problem was more that ZaiWin would undoubtedly kill them all without even blinking.
They crossed a few more halls and corridors, as they walked deeper into the huge house. But, like all the other rooms before, everything was completely empty. Only floors, walls, stone columns and high ceilings were left.
Finally, RyuXin stopped in front of a pair of tall, white doors, and Snow couldn't stop his heart from beating a bit faster.
"The main sleeping quarters are that way," he said, pointing towards the dark corridor. "But they told me that this room must have been where you were born. Also, it's the only room the villagers left untouched, exactly as they found it. Some stupid rumor about a curse, I think," RyuXin added with open despise. He clearly didn't believe in such things.
"Ready?" he asked, peering back at Snow over his shoulder, and Snow took a deep breath before nodding.
RyuXin turned the golden door-handle, and the door turned surprisingly silently on its hinges as he pushed it open. Stepping inside, he allowed Snow to take a look at was clearly a considerably spacious bedroom.
Even standing at the door, Snow could immediately see a large bed, the white canopy that had hung over it now completely ruined, the light, tattered rags floating softly in the cold breeze, since the glass door leading to a small inner-garden had been left open.
Stepping into the room, Snow didn't dare take another step forward. The floor was made of stone, but, unlike the rest of the complex, it was white, not black. And somehow the dark-red stains of blood could still be clearly seen. One. Two. Three. Four people had bled to death on that floor, Snow quickly concluded, swallowing the bitter bile that rose to his throat. And the distant sounds of women screaming desperately filled his mind, making him wince.
The room, although considerably wide, didn't look nearly as rich or as opulent as the bedroom he'd stayed in, at the Fortress. It also didn't have that many furniture. A dresser he somehow knew was filled with delicate pieces of clothing. A round table surrounded by two chairs that he was sure hadn't been used that many times. A fireplace made of stone, where a young girl had been tasked to keep a fire burning. A tall mirror that had once been covered with a heavy, dark-blue drape. The bed, with its soft, comfortable mattress and warm blankets. And a rocking chair … made of wood, always facing the small garden outside. He could remember the soft, rhythmic squeaking sound it made, its lulling slow motion … back and forth, back and forth. And the garden!, he thought, slowly making his way to the glass doors. It had been beautiful. The ground covered in lush, green grass, beautiful flowers growing every where, the small spring at one corner filling the air with its gentle, soothing song. It had also been beautiful when it snowed and the world had been silently covered by a pure, white blanket. And then it had been terrifying and scary, when bright, red blood had stained the immaculate snow.
The soft sound of a woman's voice made him turn back.
She had laid there, Snow knew, in that bed. She had spent may days lying there. Feeling hopeless, lonely, angry and sad. Mostly sad. A deep sense of loss had broken her heart. She had been happy, once. Full of hope and bright plans for the future. But then all that had been taken away, and she had been abandoned.
Locked in that room, all illusions had been shattered, and she had finally come to understand her true worth, which was none. No one would even look at her, much less see her. All they cared for, the only important thing, was the child growing inside her. That and the need for secrecy.
She had been torn between the love she knew she should feel, and the need to feel nothing at all. Torn between the need to protect the small life growing inside her belly, and the dark jealously growing inside her chest. Between the need to care for her child, and the knowledge that she wouldn't even be allowed to hold her baby. And then had come the fear. Horrible, heart-stopping fear. And horror. Horror at the sight of him.
Snow closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep breath. He was not going to be dragged into his memories again! He wasn't!, he decided, opening his eyes again and forcing himself to focus on the present, on the rotten, tattered canopy still hanging over the bed. Even those bloody sheets!, he made himself look at them. The stains were almost black. All that had happened a long time ago!
Like the other four women, she too had died that day, lying on that bed, screaming for help, for someone who would quickly put an end to her child's life. To his life. So … they had really tried to kill him. A small, innocent baby, he thought, a deep pain squeezing his heart. He really wished ZaiWin were there, standing right next to him. He wished he could feel his heavy, warm hand on his head.
"I pray that everyone may be happy. That they may smile more often. That they all may have a soft bed to sleep in, and a warm meal to fill their bellies."
Snow's gaze widened at the clear sound of that small voice. What was … that?, he asked himself, almost as if he expected to hear a reply inside his head. And yet, he knew that voice, he immediately realized. He had heard it before, just never so calm and collected. That was the same voice he had heard, screaming in pain and desperation inside that dark cave. The voice of the child that had been stabbed to death and left for dead.
LanRan …?, he called out in silence.
But … that couldn't be, Snow immediately knew. ZaiWin had never been even near that place! Sixteen years ago, ZaiWin … that's right! He must have still been living in the Palace, Snow concluded, still staring at the bed. There was no way he could have been inside that room. And yet, as if answering to his call, the small voice echoed inside his head again, filling his thoughts with common every-day talks and conversations. What he had seen, how good something sweet had tasted, what he had accomplished during his daitai practice, the new game that the other children had come up with, small, shy confessions of love. There was also some crying, when he had been pushed down the stairs and hurt his knee, or when some other child had beaten him up. And there were lots, and lots of silently hummed songs. But, more than the sounds, what really took Snow by surprise was the mixed torrent of feelings and emotions. From happiness to sadness, from love to hatred, from pain to forgiveness. And yet everything was so unbelievably bright, Snow thought, a small smile touching his lips. It was almost as if back then Snow had been able to see directly into his heart, to feel what he was feeling, to share every important aspect of his life. Including the horrible, destructive pain that had shattered all that to pieces, breaking both his heart and mind, and leaving his body an empty shell, free to be overtaken by darkness.
"I pray they will all die … Let them all die … Let the entire world die … I wish I could kill them all."
"Did you remember anything?"
Snow jumped, startled by the sudden sound of that foreign voice, and quickly blinked his tears away before RyuXin could notice them.
"Hmm … not much …" he whispered, averting his gaze from the bloody bed, and RyuXin raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Really? InnArg was certain that you would remember, if we brought you here."
"I … have the feeling I know some things that I'm not suppose to know," Snow replied, looking outside, to the now dark and barren garden. Like the larger garden before, nothing grew there either. Nothing would ever grow there again, Snow knew. Because he had used that array. It was almost like … the death zone left behind by the feimao, he mused bitterly. The only difference was that the effect had been limited to the time during which the array had been active. It hadn't spread beyond that area either.
RyuXin sighed in disappointment.
"We were hoping you could see with your own eyes just how despicable human beings really are. Capable of even killing even their own newborn children just because of a stupid thing like a baby's hair color."
Well, that was true, Snow thought sadly. And he didn't need his memories to know that. Because the Tien'Elhar weren't the only victims of that kind of sad, ridiculous discrimination. He recalled what MenTar had told him, about how noble children that were born with dark hair were often abandoned or given to servants to be raised as one of them. Or what ZaiWin had told him, about the El'Gin and El'Lin that weren't born with red hair. He was sure that, unfortunately, not every child was lucky enough to survive or even be allowed to live. Still, that was hardly reason enough to hate or despise everyone else on the face of the earth.
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I'm so proud of our little Snow. Even though those were some pretty horrible memories he still managed to stand firm. It just goes to show how much stronger he's become 😊