Days within the village. ( This, rasped, wind lashing his cheek, the sea's eerie quiet making a farce of the battle above. Xichen leads — he gives chase, qi lubricating his speed, his agility. Tiles crack, snap and break upon landing. He tries his footing, precarious but settled.

Here, then, their shelter. A moon careless and cold, smiling large above. Her sister, grinning bloody. He feels as they are, a mere spectator of carnage. )

Two years, this world whole. ( His heart is the mould that covered the dead below, is the fissures of the rooftop. ) You are as remembered.