Death Lay Silent and Peaceful

For what seemed like eternity he stood there irresolute, trapped. The splashing and struggling sounds grew fainter. Nawen cried out for help, but her voice was so breathless it could barely be heard.

At last he got a grip on himself and plunged out from behind the tree, clutching the branch convulsively. He had no idea what he was doing, or what he was going to do. Again he thought, he had to save them, and the voice again whispered that if he didn't manage to save them, wouldn't it be worse if he had to see them going down? Wasn't it better to just stay behind the tree and pretend nothing had happened?

He was about to turn back, miserably, when he heard another ominous cracking sound. Though he had averted his eyes all this while, his head automatically jerked up at the sound, and the scene hit him in that instance.

Yao Guang had disappeared, he had probably sunk under the ice already. Nawen had managed to get one arm and elbow over the edge, and she was trying to pull herself up, gasping and sobbing with terror and the cold. Just as she heaved herself upwards, and her other hand scrabbled frantically at the slippery ice trying to get a hold, a dark jagged line pierced through the frosted surface under her hand.

The ice shattered under her and she gave a last terrified scream as she fell back into the water.

For a moment her face appeared briefly over the edge before it vanished forever under the ice. Framed by a halo of water droplets, the moonlight bleached her face an eerie white, the lips blue with cold and the eyes black with terror. Their eyes met, or at least to him he felt as though she had seen him, and recognized him, and then she was sucked into the darkness of the lake.

Fahai started forward, catching his breath in horror. The branch fell from his hand uselessly. He ran forward even as his heart fell within him in dread, knowing it was too late, she would never emerge from the lake anymore. He shut his eyes, feeling himself growing giddy, and knew that last sight of her was seared upon his eyeballs for all eternity.

Slipping and sliding on the icy bank, he fell on his knees, too afraid to step onto the terrible smooth ice surface of the lake, and saw the gaping hole in the center with only shadows of the freezing water beneath. They would have been carried under the ice by now, trapped somewhere under the murky glass to die a cold and lightless death.

The silence was horrible. The voices in his head died away and he knelt there, dazed, staring stupidly at the hole.

So they were dead. He had let them die.

The enormity of what had happened hit him and he swayed, overwhelmed by the terrible remorse that gripped him. No--the voices said faintly, then insistently, breaking through the ice that had seemed to form in his brain. No, it had not been his fault. He could not have saved them if he tried. It was not his fault.

He stood up slowly, shaking. It was not his fault, he repeated, fearfully, then frenziedly. It was not his fault.

That was what he had been telling himself since every time he saw that face again in his dreams. Nawen's face.

Fahai shook the memory off almost angrily. So many years ago, what was the point? He needed to focus on what he was doing now. This was important. He could not afford to lose focus and let his mind wander now.

He stopped short. There was blood on the snow in front of him, partially obscured by the falling snow.

Crouching down, he touched it, and his fingers came off red. It was still wet, which meant it was recent. Further off he saw another few drops on the snow.

Tracking the trail of blood, he hurried down the slope leading to a small valley, and the blood stains increased. As he pushed aside the frost-laden branches of a young pine he froze in his tracks at the sight that lay in front of him.

Bodies lay scattered, fallen swords sunken into the snow, horses tethered to posts blowing out steam from their noses, bundles and saddles lying carelessly around the mouth of a small cave. The bandits's hideout. Or at least, their hideout before they had been killed, because from the looks of it they were all dead.

He went swiftly up to the closest body and stood looking silently down at it, a frown deepening on his face.

The chest had been ripped open and the heart was missing, just as with Zheng Haoran.

Raising his head, he looked at the other bodies and realized that they were all the same. Some had had their throats cut, and he could make out that there had been sword wounds on the others, but all had had their hearts eaten. Blood was everywhere; the ravens were starting to come, drawn by the scent of blood. The horses were whinnying nervously.

There were twelve bodies, all men. They had all gone down fighting, as could be seen from the weapons some of them still clutched. Evidence of a terrific fight could be seen, from the trampled snow and the hacked off branches of trees lying on the ground. They had been surprised, while setting up their camp.

There were too many footprints in the snow to make out much, but one set of footprints was clear enough, the only visible pair leaving the valley. One person only, had arrived, and that same person had left after killing them all. The bloodstains, then, must have been what dripped from her bloody hands and mouth on her way out...

Disgust and horror twisted his gut, but he kept a stern hold on himself. So he had been right. The demon had struck again. And this time, she had taken not one, but twelve lives.

Death lay silent and peaceful in the valley, and Fahai stood in the midst of it, wondering what he should now.