To Fling a Light

by Wong Yoong Le

  Mr. Meng shot a reproving gaze at me, but refrained from anything else. I didn’t believe that this little reveal would change anything, but it would be interesting to see if Crow would make any changes, and his reasoning for doing so. Crow paused for a while, before shaking his head.

  “My considerations factored in the fact that any intruder would know the layout. If you paid attention, you’d have seen it.” Crow replied.

  His fingers fluttered, and the screen shifted to a particular presentation slide, where that assumption was nicely typed out. Mr. Meng nodded in satisfaction, before turning to me with an inquiring look. I stayed silent, shaking my head to indicate that I didn’t have anything else to raise about his plan.

  “However,” continued Crow, who was unaware of the non-verbal communication between Mr. Meng and I, “scout activity yesterday could mean that something big will happen soon: probably in the coming two days. As such, we should stay on our toes for the next forty-eight hours at least.”

  With these words, he sat down into his chair, which had been vacant for the duration of the presentation.

  “I guess we’ll go with this then,” Mr. Meng said, having waited a few minutes for anyone to raise an objection or query. “Thank you, Crow.”

  “That’s why you paid good money.” Crow brushed off his thanks, before leaving the room.

  Mr. Meng picked up the laptop and started looking through the slides again.

  “A bit brusque, is he not?” asked Hao Wei, who had just done some clean-up operations against the sleepiness in his mind. “But it’s part of his charm, if you ask me.”

  “Putting your inclinations aside, how far have you gotten into that book?” My eyes roved around his bleary face.

  Clearly, the battle against the sleep demons had resulted in some collateral damage.

  “I’ve read through a fair bit,” he paused and walked to the window, admiring the darkening sky. “It’s quite the interesting read, even if some parts are droll.”

  “That’s good.” I emulated him and walked over to the window. The crimson glow of the setting sun was gradually dying, replaced by a silvery sheen of light: which was clearly abnormal.

  “Hey,” I asked, sticking my head out of the window for a closer view, “did our night skies usually have this silver screen?”

  “Unless your sky is vastly dissimilar from mine, no, I don’t think so.” Hao Wei furrowed his brows as he took at the unfamiliar sky.

  “Dissimilar? No, never mind that.” I turned back, just in time to see Mr. Meng walk over to the window too.

  He squinted his eyes, before rubbing them a few times repeatedly, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Miles, get up and see this.” Mr. Meng gestured at the night sky. “What do you make of this?”

  The old man got up from his seat slowly, mumbling about loose joints and aching bones. Plodding over to the rather crowded window, he looked at the now sunless sky. He ran his fingers through his beard; which was frankly the first time I’ve ever seen him with that thoughtful and dour expression.

  “It’s the seal on the Far Shore that the Alliance and Conclave worked out together. Still, for it to be visible…” his words trailed off, but Mr. Meng had clearly understood the implications.

  “They’re attacking it.” Mr. Meng finished off his words, if only to elucidate his thoughts for everyone here to understand. “How long do you think it’ll hold for?”

  A thoughtful expression appeared on Miles’ face, and he continued running his fingers through his beard. “It’s visible to us, but this fact isn’t all that useful. Get Crow here: if he can see it, that means the seal is entirely focused on just holding up instead of hiding from mortal eyes.”

  Hao Wei left the room, leaving the three of us still watching the sky. Aurora was presumably resting, and from the apprehensive expression that Mr. Meng had, he didn’t want to frighten her. It didn’t take long for Hao Wei to return with Crow, who was obviously grinding his knife until he was interrupted.

  At Crow’s affirmation that he could see the barrier, both Miles and Mr. Meng’s expressions darkened. Miles looked at me, an odd expression on his face.

  “Hey kid,” he said, “I just wanted to make some money, you know?”

  I raised my arms in a gesture of mock surrender. “You do realize you were the one who blackmailed the Beacon guy for this job, right?”

  “Wasn’t it you who pushed this job on me?” Miles shot back shamelessly, an expression of utter betrayal on his face.

  I looked at Hao Wei, who was blending into the background like Crow, and chose to stay silent.

  “Actually,” Mr. Meng cut in, “even if you didn’t take up this job, nothing would have changed should the Outsiders succeed.”

  “We’ll all be dead, or some variant thereof, right?” Crow suddenly said. “Your daughter. Who, or rather, what is she?”

  His voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried throughout the room, with a quality that reminded me of an unsheathed blade. Mr. Meng froze briefly, and it was evident that something had changed within him. He looked like he was struggling with something: if only briefly.

  His gaze swept around the room, taking in everyone’s faces. I met his gaze silently, as did everyone else present. His eyes drifted to where Aurora’s room was and halted there for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes. His eyes swept over us again, and he nodded, seemingly to himself this time.

  With a bitter look on his face, Mr. Meng motioned for everyone to sit around the dining table. The confident look that he usually sported had vanished, leaving an utter chill in its place. There was a mashup of emotions churning deep within that chiseled face of his.

  In a show of unexpected weakness, he closed his eyes, and let out a sigh that could be nothing else but sheer exhaustion. I started in shock when he reopened them. A haunted look: one that only someone who had lost everything could have, had scattered the last of the steely demeanor he always had.

  “It all started eight years ago, a few days after the Third Collapse. My wife had just passed away, crushed by the lowered spiritual threshold. I managed to destroy my Foundation with her help, but dawn arrived before she could destroy her own Foundation.” He paused, his eyes gleaming with a faint light. His hands quivered slightly, before he carried on speaking, “but barely eight days after she left us, Aurora, who was ten at that time, was found to be an active Key.”

  His face hardened. He tossed a batch of crumpled papers onto the table, silently motioning us to pick them up. I fished out one piece, noticing that the papers were identical. I lowered my eyes and began reading.

  According to this piece of paper, the Key was something like Nature personified. Every century, a random person: usually a young child, would be picked as a host. If the Key didn’t go active for the lifetime of its host, humanity would have been considered to have passed its ‘examination’ outright. However, the Key could go active if the host suffered a sufficiently traumatic event, in which case it would examine the state of the world as its host experienced it, before making a judgement. When it would make a judgement seemed to be arbitrary, but it was usually within a decade or so.

  It seemed that a judgement against humanity would result in something like the Third Collapse again. The writer noted that the First Collapse, some two thousand years ago, had its cause hinted toward ‘a child who proclaimed judgement against a merciless world’. Subsequently, the Dawn Protector, following the First Collapse, announced the presence of a judge of humanity, calling it the Key, before abandoning his mortal coil for pseudo-immortality.

  I wasn’t all too sure what to make of this and frankly, this sounded more like a myth than anything else, but the powers that matter would not take the threat of a Key lightly. All it took was one more Collapse, and the power bases of this world would change. It also didn’t help that there were pictures of stone tablets, which were clearly used as references.

  Mr. Meng continued speaking, and everyone else set d
own the pieces of paper, “and so, I removed her from a normal life. I sought to make her happy, not because she was the Key, but because I loved her. Until early this year, nothing had gone wrong, and I thought that everything would be fine.”

  He laughed bitterly, his eyes now glowing with something close to insanity. “But just last month, the Alliance HQ managed to capture an infiltrator of the Far Shore. With their means, it didn’t take long for the bastard to spill the beans.”

  He paused, breathing heavily. “The Outsiders knew and they conjectured that the Key would make its judge in the last week of August. They just needed to capture her, torture her, and—” his voice cut off, and madness flashed momentarily on his face, twisting his features. “—Earth would be ripe for a new world order.”

  “And you know what’s the best part?” His voice grew agitated, approaching a crescendo. “Some of my superiors think that ‘killing the Key’ was the best course of action! MY CHILD! KILLING MY CHILD! MY FLESH AND BLOOD!”

  His roar echoed into the courtyard, sending some birds flying off. The madness that was hidden in his face erupted, contorting his facial expressions. Tears streamed down his face, but he made no effort to wipe them off. I averted my eyes from his broken figure, and I could feel the rest doing the same.

  That was probably one of the reasons that he had sought out people like me. Unable to trust his fellows, he turned to absolute strangers for their help. True, the Conclave and the Alliance helped in sealing off the Far Shore, but there was nothing to say that they wouldn’t attempt to kill Aurora; despite having no evidence that killing the Key would work. It also followed that he was entirely unwilling to tell us the whole story, until Crow had indirectly threatened him.

  In a far quieter voice, Mr. Meng continued, “Aurora knew. All this time, she hid the fact that she knew, a-and I hid the fact that I knew that she knew.” He shook his head, and a hollow laugh escaped from his lips.

  I found myself struggling to breath. Something that I wasn’t sure of had hit far closer to home than I thought possible. Miles had an ashen look on his face, while Hao Wei’s eyes were overly bright. Crow was utterly still, his usually-moving fingers: motionless.

  “Now you know the truth. The seal is under assault from an unprecedented number of enemies and we could be attacked by both the Alliance and the Conclave. I can’t blame you if you were to leave now.” The exhausted look he had previously reappeared, this time tinged with a newfound despair and fear, as he forced himself to say these words, “but please, I beg of you: help me.”

  Help me.

  These two words didn’t seem like much, but I instinctively knew that it had cost him, somehow, to utter these words. I felt something stir from deep within me, and a lump formed in my throat.

  “She’s my child, I’d do anything for her. If you can… if you will… please, help me protect my daughter.”

  He stood up, and with visible effort, prostrated himself. I breathed in sharply, while everyone else exhibited similar reactions of shock.

  “Enough, Mr. Meng,” surprisingly, Crow was the first one to break the silence. “It is not my style to renege on any contract, no matter how difficult it is. So if you would be so inclined, do continue to prepare food for me.”

  “I—” Mr. Meng’s eyes widened in surprise.

  A voice came from beside me. It was Hao Wei, “my family would disown me if they found out that I abandoned someone in need.”

  “I had a child once,” Miles said quietly. “I lost him at the Bulge. The loss of a child should not be an event that a parent has to see; especially one like you.”

  There was a period of silence as we took in that information. It was obvious that Miles had lived through many things, but I didn’t expect it to be this heavy. I just didn’t consider the implications that came with living through a turbulent century.

  With a jolt, I realized that everyone else was staring at me expectantly.

  “You guys…” I began helplessly, “you guys took all the cool lines, so what am I supposed to say now? I guess I’ll just say that I wanted to be a hero as a kid then.”

  Hao Wei laughed, and Miles walked over to Mr. Meng, pulling him up.

  “Get up, Mr. Meng.” Miles smiled, this time looking something close to a doting grandfather. “I will do everything in my power to help you. As for you guys… your reasons kind of suck.”

  “Hey!” Hao Wei folded his arms and looked away.

  Miles sniggered and ruffled his hair. “We’ll take these guys as they come: so let them come!”

  “Can we not? I’m the guy who can only use a knife.” Crow frowned in disapproval. “Rather, I think we need to make new arrangements.”

  “Seconded,” I replied.

  I stood up and stretched, my muscles overly tense from the events of the past thirty minutes. It seemed that Mr. Meng had been overwhelmed by our affirmations of aid and was struck dumb as a result.

  “Thank you, everyone,” Mr. Meng said quietly. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “It’s something I should do.”

  I laughed as the three of them responded at the same time. Somehow, everyone had grown closer.

  “Come,” said Crow, as he stood up. “Night approaches, and we have much to do.”

  Chapter 16

  “Just goes to show that everyone has a unique personality, huh.” Hao Wei flexed his arms, his eyes on Crow, who was squatting down a good distance away: minding his own business.

  I shrugged. “I expected him to help, but I didn’t expect him to be the first… and to be so cool while doing so.”

  “That’s your concern?” Hao Wei sent a look of pity at me, like he was wondering about the type of family I was brought up in.

  I kicked his leg lightly, while reveling in the cool wind. Everyone was on alert, with the light of the silvery screen dampening the blackness of the night. Hao Wei pulled out his phone, tapping on it.

  “What’re you doing?” I asked.

  “This screen is visible to mortals, right?” He had a quizzical look on his face. “What explanation do you think the authorities have released?”

  His eyes flickered as he scanned line after line on the screen. His fingers flickered, tapping on a few more links, and a frown appeared.

  “It seems,” said Hao Wei, “that they’re just saying it’s some kind of aurora.”

  “Aurora… huh.” Hearing her name got me down for some reason. I felt an odd sense of camaraderie with her, alongside some measure of empathy.

  I pushed down that weird feeling and continued to enjoy the cool wind.

  I craned my neck, trying to look at his phone. “When the barrier falls… how do you think the authorities will explain it then?”

  “There’s no need to guess that far. This seal seems to be a global thing.” Hao Wei pressed on a few more web links. “Countries around the world are saying the same thing, which is odd.”

  “Not really,” a voice sounded out from behind us, and we turned toward its speaker.

  Mr. Meng was walking over. Something like life seemed to have infused itself into him, most likely the aftermath of our support for him. He smiled as our eyes met.

  “The authorities of the mortal world are aware of the presence of the supernatural and otherworldly. Most of them also employ their own supernatural forces too.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Most of them are registered under special forces. Any place with a fairly high Asian influence would typically make use of cultivators. Although there are no wizards in the direct employ of the special forces, the Conclave does sell enchanted equipment to the mortal authorities.”

  “Like what?” a curious Hao Wei asked.

  Mr. Meng was silent for a while.

  “Stuff that allows you to fly, block bullets, slice through steel… certain countries have entire regiments of wannabe Supermen out there.” He shook his head. “Sheer madness, if you ask me. Anyway, back to the main p
oint.”

  He examined the sky, the silvery sheen illuminating the darkened grounds. The light had grown stronger in the short time that we spent talking.

  “As I was saying, the mortal authorities know about this seal here. They’ve deployed their own teams too. If I didn’t get it wrong, the governments of Southeast Asia have already mobilized their forces, undoubtedly informed by the Cultivator’s Alliance and other supernatural powers.”

  A small burst of light flared into existence briefly, and his expression grew ugly as his eyes took it in.

  “It’ll be an all out war when the barrier falls. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does…” his voice cut off and a troubled look surfaced. “The Alliance has been calling on favor after favor to get governments to send in their own teams. Korea, Japan, Mongolia… I’m not too sure about the Conclave, but many countries in the West have apparently mobilized their special forces too.”

  “Must have cost an arm and a leg for this,” I mused, turning to scrutinize the silent Hao Wei. Another ripple traveled through the barrier, and I saw Hao Wei frown. He was clearly worried, and it wouldn’t need a genius to guess why.

  “Hey,” I said, tapping on his shoulder, “do you want to get started on Spiritual Laws right now?”

  “There is such an opportunity?” He raised his hands to shoulder level, his eyes somewhat glazed. “What sort of price do I need to pay?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Just stand still with your eyes closed. Feel for something, beyond the physical world,” I said blandly, “ready?”

  He grunted.

  Whether one had an affinity with the spiritual side of things was completely arbitrary. Heck, even a good number of wizards and cultivators had no luck with the spiritual; relying on outside tools to use their spiritual medium of choice, be it mana or qi or just raw spiritual energy. But it was possible to become at least aware and sensitive of it through constant, long term contact.