SKY OF PAPER: AN ASIAN STEAMPUNK FANTASY

CHAPTER 65

The great general's last and final offensive took place on the day of his fifty fifth birthday. Ominously, it was also the day my sickness worsened. While the radios filled the palace with optimistic reports of the battle, I stumbled about in a terrible daze, sweating and constantly out of breath. I could hardly control my vision as my second sight phased in and out like a loose window shutter tossed about by the wind and flickering sunlight into a dark room. Though it pained me, I continued with my chores knowing full well that the head servants would care nothing for my health. On more than one occasion, Kassashimei took the broom and the wiping cloth from my hands and did my tasks for me, then forced me to rest behind a corner or bush where no one would find me.

Wherever I was, I could still hear the distant chatter of the radios. Reporters broadcasting from aboard the airships called out every explosion, every cannon fired, every cheer of victory, every battle cry. The feeble ships of the west fell from the sky like burning paper upon the breeze, or so they said. Even their so-called air planes were no match for vessels as our forces dove upon them like hawks upon pigeons, banishing them from the heavens.

Static-filled transmissions such as these continued for days detailing acts of heroism and sacrifice in the face of a ferocious and merciless enemy. Two weeks passed before reports came in announcing that General Fung and his forces had retaken the Eastern Kingdom. Cheers and celebration filled the palace. Still writhing in agony, Kassashimei and I were given a few days rest in light of the good news.

How strange it is that wars care nothing for truth as long as there are those that find comfort in its lies. History books would tell a different story from those announced by our radios. They would detail great loss and hardships by our forces. Their pages listed by name, every one of our ships that had fallen from the sky and the names of our officers that had failed to lead our soldiers in the re-occupation of Eastern Kingdom capital. While our country rejoiced in a false victory, the warriors of our nation, General Fung, my friends; all suffered the horrors of defeat after defeat.

The news came to me while I rested in the servant quarters the day after the celebrations had begun. Kassashimei stubbornly stayed by my side, brewing tea and cooking the extra rations that the head servants had so happily provided us. For all her good will, she was a terrible cook, and she knew it. But as starved and sick as I was, I didn't mind stomaching the food she provided.

I was lying on my bed when I saw Ai step through the doorway of the bunkhouse, trailed by a humble monk that served as her aid. Kassashimei, who had been cooking stew over a stove on the far end of the room, watched her with great suspicion as she approached and sat down on the bed beside me.

"Don't look at me like that," she said.

"Like what?" I inquired. "I thought you were blind."

"Don't be naive. Though I can only see the ether, it reveals to me so much more than you know. One of them is your reaction to me being here; and you look as though I've come to deliver a curse."

"But I am cursed. I know about my sickness. I know the truth about these silver eyes. I know everything, except the exact moment of my death. Have you come to tell me when that is?"

She sighed, lifting her listless gaze across the room at Kassashimei for a brief moment then back down to me. "I'm sorry that this had to happen to you. You deserve to live a long life, just as any other person. But-"