under red skies

Jun Wu shakes his head firmly. "We made an agreement with the Xie family. It would be dishonorable for us to turn back on it now. Besides, the boy has lived there for ten years now—he'll hardly remember who we are at all."

The Queen flinches as if she's been slapped.

"You think it's more dishonorable than sacrificing live humans to a volcano?" One of the other Guoshi questions—the youngest, who was brought in to take Hudie's place after her coronation as queen. "That's an interesting set of priorities."

"Criminals." Jun Wu's frown deepens.

"Who are slated for execution as it is. It hardly makes any difference at all—!"

"No," Guoshi Nianqing shakes his head. "You just want to execute them in the most horrific way possible, rather than a simple hanging."

Jun Wu grits his teeth as he looks upon his former teacher. "Even you?" He frowns. "Even you are against me?"

"He isn't against you," Hudie frowns. "Have you considered what kind of karma making that kind of sacrifice could bring down upon us? Our family? We have our child to think about—"

"San Lang is EXACTLY why I'm doing this!"

Jun Wu slams his hand on the table, making their scrolls and maps rattle, his expression tense with worry. "Have you ever considered his future? Would you have him be a prince of the ashes?! Of a nation of homeless refugees?!"

"There are worse things to be," Hudie mutters.

"This is his home!" Jun Wu shakes his head. "Our home—and I won't allow it to burn!"

"...It might not be up to you, your highness," Mei Nianqing points out softly.

The martial god pauses, halfway through his rant—lips frozen in mid-sentence. "... What is that supposed to mean?"

The head Guoshi sits back in his seat, rubbing one hand against his temple. He hasn't aged a day since Hudie met him, while she's now a woman in her thirties—with the beginnings of age starting to etch itself across her face.

However, at this moment—his eyes seem ancient.

"How many times did I warn you?" He mutters. "Keeping so many attachments in the mortal realm will do you no good."

"If this is only a lecture, spare me." Jun Wu glares. "Or explain what you mean." Mei Nianqing looks up, his gaze unwavering.

"You will always have my respect as a god," he murmurs. "And as our former prince— but you gave up the authority of your titles when you ascended, Jun Wu."

The Crown Prince glares, his eyebrows knitting together. "This is—"

"Wuyong has a Queen," Mei Nianqing's voice is firm. "And this decision ought to be left to her."

Tonglu Hudie has always had a healthy respect for the nature of karma. To some extent, she always thought losing Bolin was her punishment for straying from her marriage. For forging the demon blade Zhu Xin, and how many lives it took.

In the beginning, she debates. The pressure from her husband is enormous, but...

Bad karma will travel directly through the bloodline. And in her case, she only has one thing left to lose: her son.

She spends hours meditating in the imperial temple, fortune telling day and night

Visions do come to her, showing that her husband was telling the truth. Images of her home, the country that raised her, pulled her up—made her one of the most powerful women in history—devoured by a sea of flames.

She sees Mei Nianqing, screaming for her, eyes filled with tears

She even sees Jun Wu himself, staring up at the sky with horror, Zhu Xin sticking out of his chest, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

Visions that horrify her. That terrify her.

And they aren't always what she seeks—some unrelated to her, or too far in the future.

She sees a boy, falling from the sky like a falling star. A mask, half laughing half crying. A green lantern, touring through the night. Crimson rain, falling from the sky. She sees ships sinking under black water, and a boy with a wine chalice, smiling and dancing in the wind.

She sees thousands of lanterns, floating as far as the eye can see—and a man, among them, his head crowned with flowers.

She sees the garden Mei Nianqing built for her turning to ash, then forest again. Then, snow, with dozens of little burial mounds, built all around.

Then, they turn to ash again, but, eventually, so far ahead that she cannot recognize the landscape any longer, lotus blossoms grow.

She sees arrows piercing the sun, and when the doors of hell open, she hears the sounds of a flute.

The Queen of Wuyong does not know which of these visions are real, and which are dreams. Some might be possibilities of a future that never come to pass. Others might simply be delusions that come from looking too closely into the eye of destiny.

But one thing chills her.

In none of those futures, real or imagined, can she see San Lang's.

That's when the fear begins to grip her, finding its way into the core of her like a weed, worming it's way in until cracks begin to form.

She never gives the order, but she certainly looks the other way.

When the captain of the guard tells her that their prisoners on death row have con missing, she's slow to investigate the matter—and when her husband returns again from the heavens, she does not ask questions.

She holds San Lang tight, and desperately, she tries to look forward.

But when she tries to see his future, there is only darkness.

Pitch black darkness. Fire and smoke.

When the other three Guoshi disappear without returning, and he gives the explanation that his suggestion horrified them to the point of leaving—

Hudie looks the other way.

She knows that it doesn't sound true. That the answer, if she peels it back, is probably hideous.

"..Mei Nianqing," she whispers one night, when they're tucked away in a lonely corridor, pressed against a pillar. "Promise me something."

The Guoshi doesn't lift his face from her neck, holding one arm around her waist, simply breathing her in. "Name it, your highness, and I will give it."

"..." Her fingers stroke his hair, eyes upturned, watching the stars through an open window. "If the worst comes to pass..."

It's the only thing she has ever asked of her lover that he has wanted to refuse. "Leave me," She whispers. "Protect my son, and leave me."

Hudie misses him desperately—but the central plains are far removed from this danger, and she knows the Xie's have treated Bolin well.

It's San Lang that consumes her thoughts. Fears for his future, that haunt her dreams every night.

"I think you underestimate the fact that your son would bite anyone that tried to take him away from you," the Guoshi answers dryly, earning a soft laugh. "I'll protect you both."

Her smile is faint. "I know you'll try," she assures him. "But if you have to choose— choose him."

Slowly—he nods, making his promise to her.

And part of her hopes, when the eruption doesn't come—that the crisis has been averted. Even if her son's future is still black, she...

Hudie tells herself that she made the right choice, not asking Jun Wu any questions. That if there was any horrible karma to be had by whatever he had done—it wouldn't be hers, because she'd had no part in it.

But San Lang's 13th birthday comes—and with it, the first eruption.

The royal court survives—but half of the farmland is raised to ash in a single night. And with it, any hopes of making it through the winter without famine.

Still, the volcano continues to rumble—and when Hudie tries to read the future again —

All she sees is fire and ash.

Desperately, she begins to plan an invasion, knowing it's their only practical means of survival. And maybe it's selfish—but they are the traditional enemies of Wuyong. What other choice is there? She—She—

One evening she's standing in the doorway to San Lang's room, silent.

Part of her just wants to forget the rest of the world. To sweep him up in her arms right now, and run away. To a place where the world doesn't know them. Where her son can just be a child, peaceful and happy.

A pair of arms wrap around her from behind, holding her close.

"He's so beautiful, isn't he?" Jun Wu whispers, resting his chin against her shoulder.

"...Yes," his wife agrees, resting her hands over his, leaning back against his armor. The same armor she forged for him, before he ascended. "He's absolutely perfect."

"We can save him."

He feels his queen stiffen, her attention piqued. "...if you mean to sacrifice anyone else to the volcano, that didn't work the first time—"

"No," Jun Wu reassures her. "That could never work was a permanent solution, only a temporary delay."

Slowly, Hudie nods.

"Do you remember what I said, when Mei Nianqing told me not to marry you?"

She shifts with discomfort, given how much the context of that moment has changed with time—but she nods. "That you had every right to take a wife."

"And," Jun Wu continues, "I could bring you with me."

The Queen of Wuyong pauses, starting to pull away, shaking her head. "I have too many responsibilities here, and San Lang—"

"Him too," Jun Wu reassures her. "I'm going to bring everyone."

That's the first time that he tells her about the bridge. A ludicrous idea. Impossible.

But he knows exactly who he's talking to. The daughter of one of the greatest architects in the modern era. A master in forging and engineering spiritual devices.

If anyone could confirm the possibility of such a thing, it would be Guoshi Tonglu.

"Can it be done?"

She's hesitant.

A life in the heavens—it means many things. No hunger, no war, no danger, but also...

Less privacy—and certainly less freedom. She couldn't go on as she has for the last fifteen years if she was...

Her own indiscretions aside, there's also San Lang.

A child—who deserves to live and be happy in the human world. To grow among his own kind, and make his own choices.

Not to be plucked to the heavens when he's barely even a teenager.

And still—with his future so black, she...

Hudie forces herself to consider the matter.

Slowly, she admits that—in theory—it is possible. But that the spiritual power required would be immense, even for him.

She emphasizes it, over and over again—that he must, absolutely, get the heavens to support him in the effort. That he cannot do it without assistance.

Hua Cheng watches the man agree, nodding as he listens to her—but somehow, when he sees the odd light in the martial god's eye, he—

He doesn't believe him.

Even as he watches the god go in seclusion to store spiritual power, assuring his wife that he's enlisted the other gods...

All he sees, when he looks into the earnestness of those eyes, is a lie. Something that he distrusts.

In the meantime, the Queen tries to make evacuation plans with the Guoshi by her side. To make ready for what they'll do if the bridge fails, but...

No one listens.

Every single time she tries, she's told that she doesn't need to worry. That the illustrious Crown Prince of Wuyong is going to save them all. That her fears are stemming from paranoia, and that she's nothing more than a frantic woman.

But Hudie knows Jun Wu's best kept secret.

That he is human. That, beneath all of the glory, gold, and fame—he is just a man.

Men make mistakes. They fail—and they fall.

Hua Cheng watches the Queen of Wuyong spend her final days with her son, now a cocky young teenager, and desperately wishes that she would flee.

Even she, watching her own memories, wishes she had one the same thing. But in the end—she was no different from anyone else.

She had a vein of distrust in her husband—that was true. But not enough so to go against him. Not enough so to believe in her own competence over his.

But when that last day came, and she saw the volcano falling into it's final rattle before entering a final state of eruption—something inside of Tonglu Hudie broke.

"...Mom?" San Lang questions, being tugged along by his wrist. "What are you doing?"

"Father is already getting people onto the bridge, we—"

"We're not going," the queen mutters, shaking her head, looking through the palace armory. Where is it, where is it, where is it?!

"...What are you talking about?" San Lang frowns, his eyebrows knitting together.

"That's been the plan this entire time—?"

"We're going to the central plains," she cuts him off, passing through every shelf, her eyes frantic. "Your brother is there."

"But what about everyone else?!"

"I can't carry them," the Queen mumbles faintly, shaking her head.

"But father said—!"

"YOUR FATHER CANNOT SAVE EVERYONE!" She snaps, her hands trembling, but —

But then she lets out a trembling sigh. "I-I'm sorry, just..." Her hands come up, pressing against her temples. "Go to the palace gates, I'll catch up with you."

"Mother—"

"Hurry!"

He listens to her, as he usually does—and Hudie searches every nook and cranny, trying desperately to find a sword strong enough to carry them both, until—

"Zhu Xin," she whispers, snatching the steel blade from its sheath, dark metal glinting up at her in the candlelight.

They've had to use torches throughout the day for the last week—smoke blocking out nearly all of the sunlight, plunging the kingdom of Wuyong into near constant darkness.

But now, she feels a glint of hope.

She can fix this. She can save him. She—

BOOM!

The explosion is so sudden, so violent, that it knocks her to the ground, her head smacking against a nearby doorframe, blood dripping down from her temple.

No...

The world is spinning and unsteady as she staggers to her feet, Zhu Xin clutched between her fingers.

She has to...

...The gates.

Hudie's heart clutches with fear as she flees through the palace corridors, shoes smacking against marble floors.

She sent her boy to the palace gates.

If she can just get there fast enough, they can go. They can start over. They can find Bolin, and then they—

The moment she bursts through the palace doors, she calls for him. "SAN LANG!"

The Queen of Wuyong whips her head around, screaming.

"SAN LANG!"

"Mom!" She whips around, head pounding with pure terror, and—

She lifts her head towards the sky, Zhu Xin trembling in her hand.

The bridge.

A shining bridge, made from golden spiritual power, carrying the people of Wuyong straight up into the sky.

And as she peers through the crowds of people walking through it—she sees San Lang.

Her San Lang, waving to her excitedly.

"HE DID IT!" The prince cries. "HE REALLY DID IT!"

And even as the volcano explodes in the background, turning the sky and fields around them into a sea of flames, Hudie feels a lurch of hope—and shame.

For not believing in her husband. For not having faith in her god. She takes one trembling step forward.

Ready to follow her son to the heavens, if that's what she has to do. As long as they're together, none of the rest of it matters.

As long as Hudie has her son, she can endure anything. So long as she— There are some things in the world that a mother should never have to see.

Hudie sees it, when the golden light forming the bridge begins to flicker. Sees it, when it's foundations begin to crack.

Even sees the look in her son's eyes, when he first realizes what's about to happen. Then, there's screaming—as everyone begins to fall. Horrible screaming.

The kind that comes from a place so deep inside, you can't find a way to stop it. Screaming that strikes the Queen to her core, makes her wish it would just end, but—

Oh.

That's just her.

She's screaming.

"...SAN LANG!" She shrieks, throwing the sword under her feet.

It surges into the air, carrying the queen with it as she tries, with every bit of strength she has, to be quick enough. Not to be too late, to get to him in time. That's all that matters. If she can just get to him, nothing else—

But she has to watch. And so does Hua Cheng.

Watch, as her son reaches back for her, crying out, in his final moments, for his mother.

And Hua Cheng can see it in the young man's eyes—

He didn't think he was going to die. Not for a moment. He truly believed that Hudie was going to catch him. The way she always had before.

Hudie has to watch, as San Lang slips past her outstretched fingers, unable to reach him by only a few meters. Has to watch, as he plunges past her, through the smoke, into...

Darkness.

Nothing but endless black, raging darkness.

"...NO!"

Her howling out screams the volcano.

"ZHU XIN!" She flails, hair falling from it's fine combs and elegant styles, falling around her, "ZHU XIN, SAVE HIM! LEAVE ME, SAVE HIM!"

But the blade will not leave it's master. Will not destroy itself by plunging into the smoke below.

Where only inferno and death awaits.

Slowly, then rather quickly—the blade begins to retreat. Even when she tries to leap from it, to plunge herself into the flames down below, following her son—her feet are locked against the pommel.

It won't let her go.

"SAN LANG!" She screams, fingers trembling, reaching.

But they find nothing. Nothing but smoke and ash—so scorching, it burns her fingertips down to the bone.

Zhu Xin pulls her from the inferno, spirits it's master away, all the way to the border of Wuyong, depositing her onto the grass as she watches the lava flows in the distance

Hudie doesn't know how long she screams. Long enough, that she feels parts of her throat break and tear. So long, that she begins spitting up blood.

It's all gone.

Her home. Her kingdom. Every single member of her family. Probably Mei Nianqing, too.

All of it—just gone.

The former Queen of Wuyong listens, as the world begins to curse her husband. Watches, as they tear down his temples. As they begin to pray to other gods in his stead.

She has no time for that. No energy or heart left for hating the man.

There's only one thing left, now.

It's a long way to the central plains, and Tonglu Hudie makes every step of it on foot. Until her shoes split, and the soles of her feet begin to bleed. Her legs threaten to give out so many times, but...

Eventually, she finds herself standing in a small city. The newly founded city, ruled by the clan of Xie. The city of Xianle.

People mistake her for a beggar. Shove her to the ground and ignore her when she tries to ask, her voice rasping and difficult to understand, where the young lord might be.

Hudie begs, and no one listens.

People recognize a refugee from the kingdom of Wuyong when they see one. Cursed, bringing bad luck and disaster wherever they go—just like the god they once worshipped.

But eventually, after a week of begging in the streets—she sees him. The first prince of Xianle, Xie Bolin.

A young man now, recently come of age. Tall, strong—with long dark hair, and piercing blue eyes, a blade at his side.

Hudie watches the way the people of the city adore him, obeying his every word. Sees how thoughtful and fair he is—how decent and caring.

Just like his father.

He was the one who found her, in the end. Offering her a drink of water, some bread. "Are you alright, miss?" The young man murmurs, not unkindly, helping Hudie drink from his flask. "What brings you here?" Then, he notices the sword strapped to her back. "...Are you a Taoist?"

"...I'm looking for my son," Hudie admits, her voice roughened and hoarse, face nearly permanently stained with soot and ash, along with the occasional burn scar. "I lost him—a very long time ago."

Bolin frowns, helping her drink. "...Perhaps I can help? I know everyone here." Life offers Hudie one last kindness—but it's one that she cannot accept.

She already sees the way that the people on the street watch the prince. With admiration and respect, yes, but...

They seem frustrated by the fact that he's even speaking to someone from Wuyong.

The only thing Hudie could do, by telling him now—would be to cause Bolin pain and suffering.

"...No," she whispers, offering the prince a shaky smile, taking one last drink of water. "You're kind, but he...isn't here."

Seeing him, her only child that grew into a man, is enough.

Knowing that he is safe, that he is loved, and he is happy...that is enough.

It has to be.

If Hudie stayed with him, now—it might bring her brief happiness, she knows it would. But it would only bring tragedy to Bolin.

And she loves her son so much more than she loves herself.

She leaves Xianle the very same day, Zhu Xin strapped to her back. And she goes to the only place that she can. The only place in the world that is left for her.

Slowly, Tonglu Hudie returns to the smoldering remains of Wuyong. Only ash now, far as the eye can see.

All she wanted, when she returned, was to find her son's bone ashes. But now, in this environment—that seems nearly impossible.

Hua Cheng watches the fallen queen search the ruins of her kingdom—constantly fighting hordes of demons, goblins, and the like.

She's relentless.

Hua Cheng cannot count how many demons are felled by the blade Zhu Xin. How many days she spends wandering the barren landscape, surviving only on roots and berries. Watches as she kneels in the remains of her garden, finding the only living thing that remains.

A lily seed.

Slowly, she tucks it back into the earth, burying it beneath the ashes—giving the plant a small drink of her water to help it establish. Using the last of what she has left to help it grow.

And then, ironically enough, a student fulfills her teacher's expectations.

BOOM!

When she opens her eyes again, it's before a shower of golden light and applause.

Kneeling in the middle of the heavens, watching as people cheer and clap for her.

Her, Tonglu Hudie, the fallen Queen of Wuyong, now ascended as a goddess.

The first and only Martial Goddess.

But when she looks around, taking in the sights around her—she knows.

Any one of these people could have saved her son. Could have protected her boy.

They simply chose not to.

Hua Cheng realizes, watching the scene—

This isn't the same heavenly capital that he saw before.

Tonglu Hudie doesn't take exactly the same path as her future student. She doesn't take one look at the heavenly capital, then cast herself back down, no.

Before the blessing of Immortality can take hold of her, she unsheathes Zhu Xin.

The Queen of Wuyong doesn't slit her own throat, or shatter her own sword with grief, no.

She plunges the blade into her own heart, with all of the heavens watching.

Tonglu Hudie always practiced as a cultivator—but she never wanted to be a goddess. Never desired to ascend.

All she wanted, in the end, was a peaceful, human life. One spent in the company of those that she loved.

When she wakes again, Zhu Xin is laying on the ground by her side, resting in the ashes. And it takes a moment for Tonglu to realize that she did not survive after all.

Her body is no more—but her soul has returned, taking the form of a savage ghost.

"..." Hudie looks up into the ash-covered sky, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Let me die.

Let me see my sons, let me die.

It's only then, that she realizes that someone is holding her.

The fallen Crown Prince of Wuyong. The prince born under a cursed star. Her husband, the exiled god, Jun Wu.

And before she can even recoil from him, he holds her tighter, whispering— "I found him."

Hudie freezes, eyes welling up with tears.

"I found San Lang, my love."

The ghost stumbles through the ashes, all while her husband—who, clearly, from Hua Cheng's vantage point, is deep in mourning for her—leads the way.

It wasn't until now, that the crimson ghost saw how deep and genuine the Crown Prince's love for his wife was. And now...

Watching Tonglu Hudie become this broken, shadow of a thing—watching her haunt the earth, unable to find peace—for the first time, Hua Cheng sees something else in Bai Wuxiang's eyes.

The occasional flash of madness. Of anger, hatred, and cruelty. "Here," the god whispers.

Hudie sinks to her knees, shoulders slumping as she stares at the object before her, gleaming as it pokes through the asses.

A small, silver hair pin.

'Everything dies, my love.'

She reaches with trembling fingers, pulling it out of the ashes.

Shaped like—like—

'Then I'll just become a butterfly!'

Her fingertips trace over the delicately shaped wings, tears pouring down her cheeks.

'They always come back.'

This world is cruel. It's hungry and stupid, and it takes without reason.

'And I'll always come back, too!'

Her eyes close.

This world is cruel, and it's hungry and it's stupid. It takes without reason. Devours beautiful, innocent things—simply because it can. Because it's too oblivious to know better.

It's a world of men. Selfish, stupid men.

This grief is different, almost frantic.

Help me.

Hudie doesn't feel like a mourning mother. She knows that pain well. it's all consuming, never ending weight. This—this feels different.

This feels like being haunted. Like being tortured. Like she's a small creature, being toyed with by a monstrous beast that won't let go.

She doesn't know who she's screaming to—what she's begging for. Maybe her son's return. Maybe to Rest In Peace, or just—oblivion.

Help me.

Help me, help me, help me.

Help me, help me, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help, help me!!!!

She tears at her hair, screams and wails at the sky, and her pain reduces her into this inhuman thing. This unthinking, unspeaking mass of screams and tears, pounding her fists into the ground, desperate for it to end, for it to stop.

It's so much, she can't—she can't— It hurts