XiCheng: The Last Lotus [AU- OMEGAVERSE]

45

Please. Let luck be with him this time.

Somewhere in a distant mountaintop. In the midst of a great battle. Amongst the swords and arrows that strummed through the air. Between rows and rows of archers, all dressed in gold-covered robes. Through the roar of the advancing mob, their bellows heard from miles away. Surrounded by ghosts of long ago- all listening to the haunting sound of music drifting through the slight summer breeze.

A woman pushed her way through the crowd- her feet carrying her through the night. Her voice resonated in the barren lands of Yiling- the desperate cries of a forbidden name falling from her lips. She was dressed in plain clothes, a mourning veil the only adornment to her long silky locks.

There was nothing on her that hinted to her identity- nothing about her that proved her high rank. No longer did she wear the long, elegant dresses- pooling by her feet. No longer was gold and silver stitched into her robes- a large white peony splayed across the sides of her gown. No longer were jade clasps fastened to her hair- violet lotuses dangling from her ears.

Only a single bell hung from her waist- the mark of the Jiang Sect a clear indicator of her status.

She shoved her way through the crowd- twisting and turning as she dodged blow after blow in a desperate attempt to reach her brother. Her voice rose higher- joining the thousands of other chants echoing in the air- calling for the Yiling Patriarch.

Except this time- she was heard.

As somewhere amidst the chaos, a flare of light shot up towards the sky- the glaring blue of Bichen's blade, illuminating her way.

And following that light- was a young man dressed in all black from head to toe. His eyes puffy and red, face instinctively brightening up at the sight of her. Clutched in his right hand he held a flute- black with a red tassel at the end. Clutched in his left- there was a seal, dark and grim with a distinct resentful air to it.

His mouth was parted in horror- fingers pointing frantically at the shadows racing towards her, the hacking sabers that followed close behind.

He brought his flute up to his lips- fully intent on stopping the demons from touching her.

But try as he might- the ghosts kept coming, Wei Wuxian's arrogance getting the best of him- his vanity allowing such a golden opportunity for entities far greater than he could hope to control.

These beings that have long since awaited such windows of escape- would never willingly resign themselves to a mortal master- a man so immersed in his delusions.

They tore through the barren wastelands- the soul of a woman in soiled grey robes calling to them- their shadows drawn to her flame.

The Nie Sect sabers were no match for such vengeance- for the sheer resent that rushed towards them. And even Baxia was tossed aside, as wave after wave of pure darkness engulfed the glowing Jiang Yanli- mutating whatever was left of her fragile spirit.

And for a moment- there was silence.

As every eye was drawn to the woman lying dead on the dirty fields of Yiling- her body going cold and limp in her brother's arms. The way her hand twitched feebly, lips moving soundlessly as she held her little brother close, wordlessly telling the young omega not to fear.

The way her gaze turned sharp and pleading, her brows furrowed and face twisted in despair as she turned slightly- finally finding the boy she had been trying to reach all along.

The way that even in death- Jiang Yanli's voice carried the same gentle lilt to it, the same soft edges of her father before her.

"A-Xian," she whispered, blood trickling from her lip as she drew in what little breath she had left in that worn and battered body of hers. "A-Xian, stop this nonsense," she murmured, raising trembling fingers at the seal Wei Wuxian had clutched tightly in his hand.