Lover's Curse ; Prologue.

Wine pours into the cups with a loud cheer, the clear taste of the divine Fairy's Breath, letting the deities and immortals loosen their collars and mess up their jade hairpins.

The laughters and heated debates move from table to table, the sound clogging up the strings of lute that played at the middle of MeiYa Hall, the line of women sitting in tight, elegant postures as their fingers and lips moved in perfect union, humming some light song about spring in late autumn.

One of them, dressed in a peach patterned silk stands up, and twirls around, the ends of her long sleeves fluttering in the night air as she slowly lets out a shrill, melodious tune, out.

"Here I am waiting, in spring, my wait for my king knows no bound! O Lord, do you not fear a lover's curse?"

A jolly looking man seated in the front row let out a loud jeer, raising his glass at her. "If cursed by a beauty like you, what fear do I have?" The comment fell into the stage with a sharp round of cheers from the crowd behind. The beauty simply smiled, a red patch growing on her cheeks as she twirled again, her song filling the hall with a chatter. It seems more of an act of obeisance, than of anything else, as the stain is quick to dissolve, and when the soft, yellow light from the candles hit her cheekbone, it seems like it had never been there.

The Divine Court is lovely in this evening, the victory from the war still fresh as deities and divine officials engaged in discussions, recalling the memories of the recent war, gradually gliding further and further away from the truth every time they narrated the tale. No one seemed bothered by the exaggerations, humming and laughing along to them like the matters did not define the lives and deaths of many. The night had swallowed down all of the bitterness of the past few days, and in the darkness, even the dried splatters of blood by the pavements could not be told apart from the spilled wine from the cups of drunk, chattering beauties. It was easy to pretend that the war now was a distant nightmare, something of the past that was no longer relevant unless to bring up for inflated accounts of bravery meant to boost the prides of the men who could boast of having lived through it.

And what a glory it is, to live through a war!

Outside the banquet, a bunch of immortal cultivators sat, recently ascended, as they huddled over a large jar of wine, the cold outside turning warmer with each sip of alcohol.

"And then, he moved his sword, and took the heart out of his chest. What valiance, what greatness!"

"Indeed. Only the great Lord Cheng can be bold enough to kill Mo Zun! No wonder he leads both the Jin Dao Sect, and the Immortal Realm! The arrogance of the Devil King, to appear among honourable immortals and kill our fellow men!"

"What a vile creature! He was so proud he came alone. Did you hear, he even badmouthed Lord of the Xue Tribes? I say, that Devil deserved worse than Lingchi."

"I heard he had a qi deviation. The demonic qi in him backfired, and that eased up the process of defeating him. It broke his soul. Lord Xue Deng collected the soul remains and kept it in the Divine Treasury to be destroyed later, in public, to stop that menace from reincarnating again."

"Good riddance! This should've happened much earlier. Lord Xue is great indeed!"

"Great, you say? Isn't he a cutsleeve?"

"Hold your tongue! You are speaking about the Chief Cultivator's Shixiong! Lord Xue played a great part in defeating of the demon!"

"Hush now! Who cares about the affairs of the high immortals? At the end of the day, their lights will keep shining brother, when you and I go out! What are sparrows in front of the great phoenix?"

"True, true! Let's just celebrate the fall of the evil tonight! No, not even that! Let's celebrate us. The war is over, and we brothers sit here, wine in our hands, and a beauty to sing to us! Who cares about all else!"

It's been a week since the death of the infamous Mo Zun, the present ruler of the Devil Realm. The news has leaped from roof to roof and window to window, whispered by the excited winds, that had stretched its limbs and screamed off the joy to be free of another sinner.

"How did he even dare enter the Ancestral Hall of Jin Dao Sect?"

"To look for Grand General, he said. A liar, trying to frame the Divine Grand General for his crimes, how disgusting! I am glad he did not walk in to see him, lest he fell for his illusions. He did right to stand by the righteous sects and the justice!"

"Lord is too kind. He had been deceived by the Devils to think they were good people, I hope he learned his lessons now."

"I don't know about you, but I don't trust anyone who has been in contact with the Devil Realm. I'd have stabbed Grand General and burnt paper money for him, along with the Devil King. Those who befriend Devils are worse than them."

"Hush now, you speak of great men, don't be so careless! We are still in Jin Dao Sect's territory."

"What great man! That's a boy the old Sect Master picked up from his steward's home. He is a servant of the Lord's generation!"

"It's best for Jin Dao Sect to cut ties with a man like that. Or, he will be a spot of darkness on the halo of Lord Cheng!"

"But isn't he a Sect member? Isn't he Lord Xue's disciple?"

"I heard he was picked up by Lord Xue because of his pretty face. Who knows what a man like that can do to climb up ranks, especially, considering the rumors about Lord Xue...."

"In my opinion, the shards of Mo Zun's soul, that are still kept in the Jin Dao Sect Treasury, should be left to Grand General to destroy. If he can do that, without question, you'll know he can be trusted again."

"I'll drink to that, I'll drink to that!"

Over the walls, the candles flicker, the wicks charred at the tips as the night clamps on to the heads, its jaws sucking out every bit of light, letting the after taste of a devastation linger in each fold.

The smoke puffs out of the vents dug into the stone, letting the evening trickle down, with unnamed horrors tucked in, between each line of concrete that cut off the Jin Dao Sect grounds from the worlds outside.

It's cold.

Somewhere in the distance, a fox cackles, the sound piercing through the sky, scratching up at the darkness to leave long gashes of an uncomfortable silence in some odd, devastating call of mourning.

Alcohol grows thin, the mist from the night kissing the effect as it lowered further. Within the MeiYa Hall, the sounds of laughter suddenly stopped.

The lute string cried, possibly torn, before a few voices started jumbling together, one overlapping over the other, in a terrified rush.

Then, it starts as a murmur, the candles blaring up, and silver clink of weapons shining over the walls. In Furong Tower, the warning bell rings, the sound ripping apart the quiet haze of victory, passing around a hushed whisper of terror.

A group of guards ran out, swords drawn as they hurry down the stairs.

One of the drunk cultivators calls out at them, fingers messily trying to readjust the unsettled robes.

"Brother! What's wrong?"

"Everything, everything! Go on, be useful! Grand General has ran away with the remains of Mo Zun's soul! Grand General has defected!"

The night rustled, whispers clogging up the pores of the sky, its slick fingers turning off the stars one by one in preparations of eclipse. The footsteps comb through the alleys and streets, jostling the lanterns and waking up newborns, and those, on their deathbeds.

"Why does it matter?" One whispers. "The soul has scattered. Who can ever join it back?"

"Who can, indeed?"

"Whoever can bring a soul back together? Is there even a way, and even the ones written in secret books and rolls,are not all of them are rather suicidal? Mo Zun is hardly worth it, and that bastard Grand General is hardly loyal enough to bear the pains."

"True! Is he not the son of two slaves? Had the old master of the Divine Chief not picked him up, where would he be? An ingrate! Dogs die dog's deaths, misfortunes shall chase sinners."

"Serves him right!"

"Devils, and their friends, are carved from the same stone!"

It travels, in whispers, then in boastful claims, and finally, drops off into the Immortal Sect Edict. The ink smells sticky, with its curls stacked up in neat lines, all disturbance of the night buried under paper. In his seat, the Divine Chief, leans back, the thin, dark pattern of red glowing between his coarse eyebrows; a symbol of the ruler of Jin Dao, a mark of his great valour.

Cheng Daiyu shakes his head, his words wet, as they fall, pulsing with a red heat ; the blind, heavy aftertaste of victory. Around his shoulder, a new, white fox skin glints, silver light floating out of it. It's a gift from his court, the hunters had specially gone out a few nights back, and had brought in the white spirit fox, freshly killed, its immortal qi still leaking out. It was a demon, loitering around in the outskirts of the city as the cultivators ran into every corners, looking for bits and pieces of the population that just lost its leader and was floundering around in panic.

It was a new sort of festival, prizes scattering the streets in forms of rare demon bones, horns, or even children of demonic beasts, pulled in to be ground into medicines for injuries. Men ran about in a maddened glee, picking up the spoils of a one sided war, gloating the bags filled with red patches, smelling of fermenting deaths as they laughed and sang in harmony. Riches in return of lives without worth; a deal that some would not mind much closing.

The fox skin glowed under the light from the candles.

"No need to chase. Whoever can reawaken a scattered soul? Just let that sly traitor curl up his tail and die in grief. No need to search, the demonic realm, has already fallen."

Wine, pours again, the thin, fair drops rolling around the edge of the jade cups, spilling into the marble floors, and scattering, carrying with it, the shards of lifes, and deaths, and all that is whispered over wine, over the drunk habits of crowds gathered around bars and brothels, and falling limp on the streets.

"No need to grieve! Mo Zun has died!"

"Drink to that, drink to that!"

"To the fall of Mo Zun, and the victory of Jin Dao!"

"To the fall of all evil!"

"To the glory of Lord Cheng!"

The city keeps flickering, off and on, with laughters and fights throbbing under its skin, lanterns, and music swaying in an artificial, yet comforting, chance to celebrate. Even, if it's the death.

In the distant hills behind the Jin Dao Sect grounds, far away from whatever is human, the fox mourns alone for the loss of its mate, its cries cracking the skin of the sky, leaving scratches against its back. From inside the city, the song of the lone beauty dancing under the lights grew louder and louder.

"My King, my all; are you with your beloved, tonight?

So cruel a heart!

So cruel a heart!

I hope you fall to a lover's curse!"