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The blackened earth seems to stretch forever, a sky that is as red as blood, it tells the story. The lone figure rests against a gnarled wooden staff, his grey robes torn and dirty. His eyes survey the land, bearing a deep sorrow within their depths, his forehead crinkles, lips curl in a tentative frown. The young one, he almost forgot; a soft tugging at his side. A boy...his boy. So-Wai, a quiet soul, says not a word, only gazes up at his father with a questioning expression, his eyes asking a million questions that his father is not sure he can answer. "This is where it happened, boy...the last stand." * * * * * Heart pounding deep within his chest, Ji Wen rushes between the trees; to the east, he can yet hear the sounds of battle, close yet as he is, indeed can see the very shadows of struggle against the foliage. A long battle this has been. So many years, lost to the folly of war. So many lives lost as well. Clutching his staff tighter at the thought, eyes narrowing, his stride increases. This must end. One of the few scouts that were dispatched and actually returned reported a camp, set just beyond the clearing, a days travel away. Presumably this is where he stay...away from the battle; the fate of his people upon his shoulders - lose many, so long as he yet breathes... They could have dispatched hundreds, on horse back, to take the camp by force, but they did not. They sent but one: Ji Wen, the young boy, the gifted one. As the sun rises, Ji Wen finds the clearing; the trees growing more sparse, he sees smoke on the horizon, close by. Peering out of the darkness, surely - there are tents here. Quiet, yet; it appears they yet slumber. "Easier than I thought." Creeping slowly into the camp, he finds the largest tent - "Surely this would be the place." Pushing aside the fabrics that framed the entrance, he can hear the soft breathing emanating from the stack of pelts in the center of the tent. Slowly...quietly...Ji Wen tiptoed over to the sleeping man. He had never seen his face before, but the reports of his countenance could leave no doubt; there, above his right eye, the telltale scar. Swallowing his nervousness heavily, he brings his staff close to his chest and, for a simple moment, hesitates - he who commands his men to kill his people, he who hides beyond the danger like a coward. The words left his lips as a hiss: "It is better than you deserve, you pig. To die in your sleep...I am too generous a soul..." Blue eyes spring open, wide, startled, frightened. He seems to struggle with his coverings a moment; Ji Wen, taken aback, acts quickly. Bringing his other hand to his staff, he raises it...and slams the bottom deeply into the ground below him. And with that...he erupts! Flames, lashing outward from his body, a torrent of destruction. He can see the momentary fear in the sleeping man's eyes before he crumbles to ash. And yet the fire continues. "No! My task is done! N...no! S...s...stop!" But he could not. Ji Wen burned for three days and three nights - all was red, as far as he could see. Unbeknownst to him at the time, the fire rolled far; it washed the camp, killing them all. It crept over the battlefield, and left no survivors on either side... And when the fire finally ceased, the ground was black, the trees but ash, the land scorched...all life...gone. This was the price...this was now his burden to bear... * * * * * "That was the last time I appeased the fire inside. War, waged within a heart of rage - to fight fire with fire serves no purpose, and burns deeply. My fire burns bright, yet, but it burns only for me; the only one who might yet feel it's sting is myself, and that is the way it should be." Placing a hand on his young son's shoulder, they turn away. Ji Wen glances back only once, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Forever I might say this, but I am sorry..." And onward they walk. BatSheba | |