An Immortal Love

Reunion

"Forgive me, my lord, but I have no idea," Yijun answers. How could he dare to presume knowledge of godly affairs when the very gods he served made it abundantly clear how lowly and ignorant he was?

Lord Huo looks down on him with his sharp features. "Try harder, Yijun," he scolds, his voice carrying a hint of disappointment.

The god's words were like a lash on his back, making his mind drift back to the quarrel in Midway. Their clash of words ended with the dragon shoving his palm through his skull and forcefully imprinting his memories upon him. When he finishes recounting this tale, Lord Huo crosses his arms, his expression thoughtful yet dismissive. "So, he was betrayed," the phoenix muses. "I don't understand. Who carries grudges to their death, anyway?"

"You don't, my lord?" he asks, incredulous.

Lord Huo shakes his head, his long ponytail behind him moving fluidly like a flame flickering in the breeze. "If I were him, I'd simply burn the fool and be done with it. Grudges are such a waste of time."

Yijun nods out of deference but feels a quiet exasperation bloom in his chest. It's clear why the phoenix needs his help-divine though he may be, Lord Huo is woefully clueless about mortal life. Or perhaps he simply refuses to understand them and prefers someone like him to think about it instead. A sigh escapes Yijun as he contemplates the long, arduous days ahead in this service.

His gaze shifts to the dragon, still and silent at the heart of the lake. He lies there like a forgotten relic, surrounded by the stagnant water that mirrors his sorrow. From the memories forced into his mind, Yijun pieces together the jagged edges of the dragon's past. Something clings to him, an anchor that drags him into a dark abyss of emotions. Revenge against his betrayer? Yijun sifts through the memories again but finds no anger, no thirst for vengeance-only a profound and aching sorrow.

The feeling is all too familiar. Without warning, Yijun's own memories rise like ghosts, unbidden and relentless. He recalls his family, swept away by the cruel current of fate, leaving him with nothing but regret. So many words left unsaid, so many moments lost forever. His chest tightens as images of their laughter and love haunt him, joined by fleeting visions of children's faces he will never see again.

He glances back at the dragon. Could it be that he, too, is trapped by the weight of regrets? Perhaps, like Yijun, he yearns for something that has slipped beyond his reach. Before he can stop himself, the words spill from his lips.

"Maybe he'd feel better if he knew what became of his family after he left," Yijun suggests tentatively.

Lord Huo snorts, an ember of derision in his tone. "They're dead. It's been five hundred years. What's there to find out?"

Yijun meets his gaze, resolute. "Just because they're dead doesn't mean he wouldn't want to know how they died or where they died."

The phoenix raises a brow then scratches his head. "Whatever. You mortals are so ridiculously complicated. So how do you propose to uncover anything about people who've long turned to dust and bones?"

"Humans keep ancestor halls," Yijun explains. "We honor our dead ancestors by engraving their names on tablets and passing their stories down to the next generations. His children's descendants might still tell stories about his children. Perhaps we might learn their fates if we find their descendants."

Lord Huo's second brow lifts, now perfectly even, as a faint smile tugs at his lips. "Interesting," he murmurs, his voice almost approving. He sighs, the sound akin to a breeze stirring embers. "Very well, we'll try it your way. But first," he says, his gaze drifting back to the still figure on the water, "we must nurse him back to health. He'll need to wake before we can do anything."