Promise and Betrayal: A Mo Dao Zu Shi (the Untamed) Story

Chapter 20

I begin in the dungeon of Scorching Sun Palace. It is a dark, drafty place that shimmers with the humidity of the volcano. The heat is stifling here, a form of torture in itself. Leave a prisoner down here for more than two days, and they will beg for relief from the oppressive heat. The deeper I explore, the more clogged the air becomes. Soon, I feel as if every breath is equal parts ash and gas as it is air. I should not linger.

The cells are interspersed in the winding stairwell, the ones for longer prisoners near the top, the ones for shorter stays deeper. I kick down every door that I suspect is occupied, but I find no trace of my clan. I free plenty of others: a member of the Jiang Clan, taken from Lotus Pier, several commoners suspected of conspiracy, some petty thieves, a few beggars.

I am disgusted with the Wen Clan when I kick down a door to find five gaunt and filthy children huddled under the only bed. Their eyes grow wide when they see me sweep in, my black and gold robes bloody, my face grave, and my swords drawn and caked with dried blood. Their cell lays about halfway down the staircase. Looking at them, it is likely they have stayed here for far longer than is healthy. With an ease that comes only with practice, I sheathe my swords simultaneously and then kneel down to their level.

"Children," I say softly. "I will not hurt you. The Wen Clan has been defeated. You are free to go. Follow the stairs up. Take no turn-offs. You will arrive in the basement of Scorching Sun Palace. Help yourselves to their kitchens and their water. Be mindful of the laws and principles. Do not steal what is not necessary, and do not fight for food or water." I give them an encouraging nod, then turn away to plunge deeper into the volcano.

I can barely breathe by the time I reach the bottom. A great cavern yawns before me, glassy obsidian coated with fine ash. Lava pulses in the walls. The heat closes in around me, wrapping me in a blanket that seeks to steal the air from my lungs. I shudder at the thought of any who have been imprisoned in these cells for more than a few hours. They would not have lasted long. If my clan was down here, I pray their deaths were swift and painless. A death in the recesses of a volcanic dungeon would be long, painful, and cruel. And if my clan was ever here, I will only find charred flesh and bone.

I gingerly open the doors to the cells, the metal scalding. The first two cells bear no remains, only obsidian walls and a single bed. They look to have been empty for years. In the others, I find a similar result. It is only the last cell, the cell closest to the heart of the volcano, where I hesitate. This door is made of sturdier metal, and it is locked. None of the other cells in this cavern were locked. I cough violently as I kick down the door. The ash from the air coats my throat. If I am to leave with my life, I must leave soon. But I must see this to its end.

Curled up inside the cell, knees drawn up, breathing with the rattle of the half-dead, covered in heat blisters, is a child of the Xiao Clan.

For a moment I am struck with disbelief. The Wen Clan imprisoned a child here, in such an unforgiving place...they have many, many more crimes to answer for. Yet I fear it was not the clan's fault. This reeks of the royal Wen family: Wen Ruohan, his eldest son, and Wen Chao. This was their doing.

I rush to her, drawing her into my arms. She looks about ten, retaining the softness of a babe yet grown enough to think independently. I stroke her hair, the strands of it hot to the touch. She shivers, her breathing shallow and fast. I gather her limbs and pick her up, carrying her out of the cavern and up the steps. The staircase circles, maddeningly long. I dare not stop, no matter how tired I become. Until this child breathes fresh air once more, I will not stop to rest. I must save her. She is my only lead, and she may be the only Xiao left. I cannot let her die.

I pass the cell the children were in. It is empty. I am halfway there, now. Not much longer, I murmur to the child. She has fallen unconscious, her head lolling dangerously to the side. Her eyes, though closed, are rolled back in her head. Her breathing has become perilously irregular.