Feng

Esmuig had a towering mountain a short ways away from Alethea's Spring. Legend said the Holy Father and the Faultless Mother went there and gave birth to the gods. Alethea created a spring where she took refuge during the Immortal War, where Casimiro planned to kill the gods and take control of the world, and the spring became her home. Ever since then, miners flocked to the mountains like birds to crumbs, until an avalanche that killed hundreds scared them all away.

Even the entrance at the bottom of the mountain seemed to hiss and scare off anyone who came near. It was all boarded up and a rickety sign with CLOSED scrawled on the wood was stuck in the dirt. Feng tipped his head back and gazed up at the mountain that loomed before him. He took a deep breath and readjusted the hooks strapped to his hips. The Undead Saola.

The saolas were a rare, almost extinct breed, with horns that jutted out of their skulls and white markings on their faces. With long, skinny legs and a lithe body, they ran fast and were hard to keep up with. Master Veron once dragged a dead saola proudly in front of the whole Guild. He strutted around with the great beast draped upon his shoulders like a cape, the sickest smile on his face. Feng's heart panged at the dead animal, its lifeless eyes staring right through him. Get me out of here, it seemed to say to him, but he only turned away. What could he do? Besides, it was dead. It didn't have to endure any more misery.

The next morning, Veron swung his legs out of bed and stepped on a fur carpet.

Feng shuddered and forced himself into the mine. He's not here, he once again reminded himself as his sandals scuffed pebbles. He can't hurt you here.

But he will. Once you get back.

He gritted his teeth, and his eye twitched the way it always did when he was angry. "Stop," he muttered to himself, but he flinched when a bunch of stops echoed down the long passageway.

Coal dust streaked the ground, and little nooks in the stone walls were dug deeper to make private mines. He ignored all these and just continued up the winding main path. The Undead Saola should be at the top of the mountain, where no mortal ever dared to go.

By the time I'll get there my legs will snap off. Feng sighed irritably. Suddenly, a large crack split the air, and he threw himself at the ground with a gasp. Pebbles rained down from the ceiling and struck his face, and once the crackling subsided he sat up. He wiped the blood off his face and glared at the stone.

"Great, now I'll never know if there's an actual collapse or not," he grumbled.

He continued up the passageway, his kusarigama hooks idly spinning in his hands. No more fake avalanches plagued him as he traveled up and up the mountain. It went on farther than he expected, and soon he sat down to take a break.

He gazed at the stone wall as his stomach rumbled in despair. Eryka probably should've packed food before she raced off into the unknown, but he was also probably to blame. He should've slowed her down, made her think about her plan clearly.

Princesses, he grumbled to himself.

His skin prickled with a chill as Eryka's warm, bright smile flashed into his head. She could light up the night with her enthusiasm, even if she never really showed it. She practically burst with hope and cheer, but she had a quiet side too...

No. You are not responsible for that. Feng shoved himself to his feet and continued walking. Eryka wasn't here, and after this he planned to never see her again. That was final.

A few seconds after he started walking, something started scratching the floor. He assumed it was just a mouse or some other small creature, but immediately he took it back as a sudden screaming filled the cavern. Feng clapped his hands over his ears, but the screaming only seemed to intensify so that even his brain shook with the noise. A warm liquid trickled through his fingers and he collapsed in agony, his ears full with fire.

Shadows loomed on the walls. Feng reached for his kusarigama, but then the creature shrieked to such a high-pitch noise that he keeled back over. Please... make it stop... he begged.

Underneath the terrible screaming, something hissed, "My... how beautifully you suffer."

"Get away from me!" he whispered, trying to force back the tears that threatened to rise. No, not even here, with the knives of that scream piercing his ears, would he cry.

"Come here, losalita... I will take care of you..."

"I'm not your love! Don't come closer!" he snarled as the shadow on the wall grew bigger and bigger.

Suddenly, the screaming died. He gasped for air and clutched his stinging ears, which were also ringing painfully. Will I be deaf for the rest of my life? His heart seemed to stop at the very thought of it.

"No... do not kill him here..." His hands flew to his hips, and he forced himself to sit up. "No, my friend, I want to see his blood in the sweet sunlight... Yes, he will be the ticket to our uprising..."

"Who are you? Don't even try to attack me!" he challenged. Was he even thinking straight? His whole body buzzed with the aftermath of the noise.

"Why, losalita, we are the miners who lost our lives here. We've been itching to destroy this mountain ever since, and your blood will be our ticket." A gravelly laugh echoed throughout the passage.

Feng struggled to his feet. "Show yourselves, you cowards! Or has being ghosts made you too soft?" he goaded. Even in under the worst situations, he could never pass up an opportunity to trash-talk.

A bunch of hisses greeted him as more shadows popped up on the rock. His hands shook slightly as clouds of gray haze freed themselves from their shadows, leaving no trace behind.

"Can't you see? We've been following you all along—"

"—and now we have you!"

The haze shaped themselves into people, with sunken cheeks and wrinkled skin. They sneered at him with thin lips and spat with mouths full of missing or chipped teeth. They all had iron helmets, tool belts, and pickaxes.

"We'd sing ya a worthy miner's song, son, but one who wants to tangle with the Undead Saola will never be considered one of us," one miner said.

Feng raised his kusarigamas. "Why is this saola so scary to everyone?" When nobody answered, he jabbed his hooks at the air and ordered, "Answer me!"

"You see, son... the Undead Saola used to be a god nobody knows," a miner answered. "Ol' King Altos."

"Altos... my kingdom," he murmured.

"Yes, the very first king there," the man agreed. "He was clever, strong, dashing... but was the worst gambler anyone ever saw. Took chances even the Deathbringer himself wouldn't take. In the end, that was his downfall. One day, the Holy Father was fleeing from the War of Man, and he took shelter in Altos. He requested an audience with the king to warn him of the danger. Oh, my king, the Holy Father said, in the west mankind has turned against itself. Men are killing everyone in their sights. I come to warn you before I take my leave.

"King Altos was impressed with the man's bravery and kindness. My good sir, I can't evacuate my people, he replied. I built this kingdom with my two bare hands! I can never dream of leaving. The Holy Father was disappointed, but he understood when a man's heart stuck with his home. The Father came back after the Faultless Mother gave birth to the gods and shared some good times with the king under the watchful eyes of their protectors. He told the king of his accomplishments, and he was delighted. He wished so desperately to be immortal and to have powers.

"That night, Alethea came to him in his dreams. She secretly admired the man for his loyalty to his people, and for helping her father. She offered him a choice to become a god, but with a price. If he accepted, touching another human would lead to an excruciating death for him. Turning a regular mortal into a god is tricky work, and requires a lot of things to stay a god. However, King Altos accepted. Not even a year later, he fell in love with a very beautiful woman, but she was mortal.

"Altos, though, he loved that woman with his whole heart and more. Well, I need heirs for my kingdom! he reasoned. So he had children with the woman, but as promised, he began the slow process of dying. Alethea, however, still felt fond for the old geezer. She transformed him into a saola but kept him tucked away in here, where he wouldn't see a soul but wasn't dead." The miner shrugged, as if the trade was fair.

"Why is he so dangerous? Aren't gods supposed to be good?" Feng asked.

The miner bellowed with laughter. "Good! Have you even heard of Casimiro, boy? Centuries trapped in this mountain made ol' Altos hateful, especially towards mortals. He's become wild, unruly, and a foe to reckon with."

"Stop with the stories, old man, and let's kill him!" another miner burst out.

"If you think I'll come with you willingly, you're out of luck," he threatened, and he threw his hook at the crowd.

Echoing laughter rose up as the men turned back to haze; his weapon flew right through their bodies and clattered to the ground. "Boy's never seen a ghost before!" a man taunted before he lunged at Feng.

Immediately the dead miners advanced, and they groped for his ankles and wrists. "Let me go! Cowards! Fight me like men!" he screamed as he jerked to and fro, trying to free himself from his captors.

"Oh, I take up me pick and go to the mountain..." the miners sang.

He gritted his teeth. How can I get out of here? If I try to attack them they'll just turn intangible again... He surveyed his hooks grimly.

The miners carried him back down the torch-lit passageways. He admitted defeat and stopped fighting, and cringed at the slimy, scabbed hands that gripped his skin. A few minutes later, though, the men accidentally bumped Feng into the wall, and as a torch fell the fire extinguished with a whoosh.

"Gah! Be more careful next time!" one scolded, but he was trembling slightly. The others, too, were cowering.

Wait... fire. Ghosts couldn't handle fire! Feng kicked his leg at the wall, which caught his captors by surprise. A torch fell into his waiting hand, and he slashed down at the ghosts.

With wails, the miners dropped him. He sprang to his feet and brandished the torch at the dead men. "Scram, you deadbeats! Or do you want a taste of this?" he ordered as he waved the torch back and forth.

One hissed and jumped for him, but Feng stuck the fire right inside his chest. The miner vanished with a puff of smoke and a pile of ash on the ground, his curse echoing down the hall.

"Anyone else wanna try?" he asked, but after he did a full circle he discovered none of the miners stayed. He sighed in relief and continued his ascent. The men didn't carry him too far, thankfully, so he could continue his journey without too much interruption.

Well, he certainly had his share of angry people. The Assassin's Guild was a ruthless place to grow up in, and every member had to follow the rules. Resistance and rule-breaking were met with cruel punishments. Master Veron was the leader, and he was the worst of them all. Feng generally tried to keep out of the way of the master and all of the older assassins, but when his parents left he was stuck with Veron as a father figure.

Yeah, right. Father figure, as in punished him for pretty much everything.

Emotions except bloodlust were viewed as weaknesses. That's why his parents fled the Guild, because they loved each other and had him. Veron drunkenly told him one night that he chased Feng's father far, far away, and only let his mom stay because she was pregnant. After that, though, she had to scram too.

Feng sighed and sat down hard. He buried his head in his hands and forced back the tears that always rose when he thought of Master Veron and his parents. Just keep going... Let Eryka live, help her go back to her family, and then you can run away and be free forever.

That thought buzzed in his mind until his eyes closed and he fell asleep.