Blue river grass filled the desolate space, delicate flowers of silvery white blooming between rocks and broken wood. A haunting sight as lotus flowers closed and opened as if they were breathing. Life vibrated and the carps started swimming in circles, trying to catch the filaments of light that illuminated the air and danced with the wind. The gentle breeze that was between the buildings making the leaves rustle.
Yin was breathing calmly as the dangles from the silver leaf crown that had formed on her head fell down the sides of her face framing it. Moonflowers blooming on them, delicate ranks of river grass curling gently the long tassels almost touched the ground.
Her pale face illuminated by the silvery shine, her eyes closed in complete rest, she could have been mistaken for a fairy of the night right then and there.
The long black blue hair fell down her back, moving invisibly with the rise and fall of the power that filled the air. A haunting sight that had unfolded on thus small corner of the moon pavilion.
It was a day full of storm clouds, and she was flying, soaring through the skies, the winds battering against her face, wet from the black rain that fell. Beneath her, the expanse of a forest stretched deep into the horizon, until nothing could be seen anymore. The darkness of the black rain seemingly encompassing the world.
Then she touched her face and noted what the rain was only concealing. She was crying.
Yin could not remember when she had been crying in flight, the last time seeking comfort, yes, but never crying. She loved the sky to much to have tears overtake her in the sky, no matter how hard things were. Then she turned to look around her. Three red rings, criimson light, one too many; she had only two.
Suddenly, the knowledge hit her.
She stopped midflight and, like a record player, as if watching an old black-and-white movie, her eyes widened. She was flying in the sky, dressed in training clothes. Her sword in her hand. Blood dripping from it.
Drip
Drip.
The sound was deafeningly loud. Before her was a familiar, prominent figure. A smile on his face. His stormy eyes were gentle as he touched her face.
"I love you." He said, and she looked at her hands.
She had switched places with her other self. In her hands, the sword, blood running down its edge. Dark red, almost black like rubies. She blinked Jiang right in front of her. He gurgled blood running from the sides of his mouth. "I could not bear to see you die," he whispered, and she looked behind him.
There were figures, blurry, the cries of people around her, tears of sorrow, as all drenched down in a cacophony of sound. She spotted Da Ming and Er Ming.
Xiao Wu and her brother were somewhere in the distance, and between them all someone laughed.
The sky above her opened.
A bitter voice said.
Tang Yin was ripped out of the vision with vicious force, out of spirit power. Panting, drenched in sweat, she leaned down and then let out a small whimper. No way. No way.
She would never accept it.
"Jiang." She whispered, her hands trembling. "I-I killed..."
Still trapped in her vision, she sobbed and cried, tears running down her cheeks, as she gasped and hugged herself curling together. The crown on her head dissolving back into nothingness, the river grass and flowers that had bloomed vanished like illusions until it was dark again.
The drakest of the night only illuminated by the faint moonlight. A pair of arms hugged her from behind. She turned to see Jiang.
"How?" She asked, her voice breaking. "You knew." She then wrenched out, and he smiled.
"I had a good guess." He then said, and she grabbed him, her eyes shining with fury.
"No." She said. Her voice is firm. "I will not kill you. No."
"It is fate." He said, "Maybe also my destiny. But I will always be with you. By your side." He hugged her. "Don't worry."
"But not like this." She said and grabbed him. "I said before, Screw Fate, and I will do it again. I won't accept it."
Jiang remained silent as she held onto him like he was a lifeline.
No way.