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The smoky furred bobtailed macaque woke – staring blankly at the tear-filled face of the red-faced macaque, the others mane of white fur had been tainted by blood, dirt and pulled free of the ornate cuff he usually wore.
The usually put together white furred macaque looked utterly disheveled above him – cradling the other to make sure he did not sink below the surface.
The prone body of the other was distantly aware of floating in a cool pool of water, but the viscous feeling of it, it clung to his fur had an unsettling noise to it – it lapped its inkiness against the new split of his left ear, burning the cut even more.
Ah, he remembered distantly at not moving out of the way fast enough from the others moonlight filled qiang was sent flying at him…he did not think the other had it in him. A half-asleep hand reached to his stomach – the ghost of the sensation of being skewered by the ivory coloured qiang, recalling how his blood dripped down the shaft and coloured his hand.
“I thought I had…” The white furred macaque choked out finally – uncaring of the oily spring water being unpleasant against himself.
“You did.” The slightly shorter macaque offered softly – still trying to make sense of it, feeling the once mortally fatal wound.
“I didn’t mean to…” The white furred macaque with a red face said quickly – genuinely.
“…” The once dead monkey was deathly silent.
“I didn’t mean for our sparring to get so out of hand…” The white furred macaque continued – tone slightly hysterical, “But it’s alright now – I brought you back…”
“This is a shadow spring…” The bobtailed macaque distantly muttered.
“I mean, hypothetically we knew that the springs had unknown properties – rejuvenation was always considered with the effect on the local flora and fauna that grew around the spring…” The white furred macaque had pulled out a book – oily, watery stain had marred and tainted the familiar notebook, flipping to a page filled with a familiar chicken scratch of writing.
The split eared macaque could recognize his own research anywhere – becoming increasingly aware that he inadvertently became his own test subject in his own research that spanned ever since he had believed he found a kindred spirit in the intelligent white furred macaque.
Welcoming the unusually born demon into his home and to assist him with his studies – while the researcher had been born to a rural macaque demon clan, it was like the glittering macaque had sprung from the moonlight and shadows itself.
He had heard from the other that there was a monkey like him in the neighboring mountains – a monkey born from stone. The curious demon would have loved to met the curious creature the other encountered in his travels.
“You were right!” The white macaque exclaimed out as though he did not believe it himself, “You were right about everything…”
The smoky furred macaque did not feel ecstatic at that fact at all.
“How do you feel – being a new ‘shadow born’?” The other asked curiously.
The split eared macaque paused at that question – an expression of extreme elation and sadness mixed for a moment, before freezing at the broken smile gracing his face.
“Honestly, my dear friend.” The split eared macaque could not help the giggle escape him, “I don’t feel anything…”
The white macaque’s expression fell, becoming deeper in his concern as he held his once dead friend as he continued to laugh unhinged,
“I FEEL ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT ALL!”
The Hungry Ghost King considered his blood-soaked cellar in his Manor of Shadows – his experiments with the possibilities of the shadow springs continued even in his own second un-life. He was not alive in the most traditional sense – his body had rotted without the near constant consuming of human essence and meat.
The various mortal villages and even the other smaller macaque demon clans had offered a healthy supply to keep him from falling to pieces, the change to other macaque demons had risked the newly ‘Spirit Macaque King’ turning his attention back to his old friend.
Every time they crossed paths – the rotting demon loved reminding the other that this is all his fault, his softness and his kindness would be his peoples and own downfall.
The heavily bound barrels that leaked the shadow spring water he continued to research – how his old friend brought him back forever perplexed him, and even the Spirit Macaque King could only say he only read his own research.
The Hungry Ghost King’s latest procurement from the rural macaque demon clan he burned down to the ground – killing the patriarch, the other males and dragging the screaming daughters and now widowed demonesses into the very depths of his manor.
The ones that took their own lives before they could be experimented on had been turned into the ravenous ghouls that obediently ran the manor as mindless servants – being played with like puppets on the strings.
The terrified daughters of the deceased patriarch were promptly used in his latest experiments – the floor was sticky with their blood, the manor is still slowly absorbing the red back into its wood for needed nutrients. Three of the eldest and the youngest ( a runt of a demoness with an unusual mutation with her ears – reminding him of his own split left year) had been stripped bare and sealed in the barrel to be submerged in the small space for an extended period – the desperate scratching of the inside of the lid as they were sealed in by their undead family that had been turned into the now permanent staff of the Manor of Shadow’s echoed in the cellar as he left them in the dark.
After three days – their cries had become silent.
The Hungry Ghost King opened each vat – clicking his tongue at the various levels of decay and melted remains of the stronger in appearance demonesses. He approached the last one with the expectation of the same outcome but with the hope the demoness head remained intact for him to investigate the lotus petal like ears – when he opened the barrel, he really was not expecting the glassy eyed demoness staring at him.
She was very much alive – perhaps distantly aware that her sisters were dead in the vats next to her but she seemed to sit in the shadowy water hugging her knees a little closer to her small chest in a feeble attempt in modesty at being observed by the demon.
The Hungry Ghost King did not care for the stolen demoness in that way – more so curious at how she survived.
“Hey.” The Hungry Ghost King snapped his fingers – catching the young demoness’s attention, she woozily focused onto him, “Girl – what is your name?”
“…” She stared dumbly at him.
“Can you not speak?” The Hungry Ghost King demanded, moving to place the lid back cruelly upon her again, “I have no use for damaged goods…”
“NO!” The girl cried out – using her hands to push against the lid, surprising both the Hungry Ghost King and the girl herself as the wood of the lid exploded in an uncontrolled shower of splinters over her and the king, the cause was an unexpected blast of shadowy magic.
“…” The Hungry Ghost King considered the splinters in his hands and the shard in his chest – the wounds did not bleed but caused the girl to gasp in horror at how gruesome the stake appeared sticking in his chest.
“Curiouser and curiouser…” The Hungry Ghost King considered the stake, pulling it out with barely a wince as he threw it to the side – the girls own expression seemed to shift slightly from its horror to morbid curiosity for the briefest of moments but the expected horror filled reaction won out.
She covered her mouth, her wide eyes tearing up even further as she truly feared for her life - flinching away as the demon reached out to her, expecting the worse only to jolt at the sensation of the others hand resting against her black-furred head in a gentle pat.
Her black-fur was still damp and so did not show how it had a slight curl which framed her colourful four ears – it had appeared to be crudely cut short, not by the king’s hand. He recalled the smaller demoness had worn poorer and dirtier in appearance robes compared to her sisters.
It would seem she was not held to the same regard as her ‘normal’ and ‘quite pretty but very dead sisters’ – the patriarch was desperate to protect them, while this one was found hiding in a wardrobe.
Perhaps the smartest one out of all of them.
“What a shadowy pearl you are…” Hungry Ghost King cooed out, “What is the name of such a treasure you are….”
“…” The small demoness flushed at the complement – starving for even the false kind words from her captor – pulling her herself even smaller as she shakily answered, “Qiao Hui – my name is Qiao Hui.”
“Qiao Hui…what a pretty name.” Hungry Ghost King pulled his hand away – smiling at how she attempted to follow the others hand, even as he offered a hand to help her out of the shadow spring filled barrel.
“I am the Hungry Ghost King – I spend my time researching the unseen and the shadowy nature of the mortal, the damned and the celestial.” The Hungry Ghost King explained, “And I am in need of an apprentice – and you are just brimming with potential…”
“I don’t think so…” Qiao Hui muttered.
“None of them are around to tell you otherwise…” Hungry Ghost King gestured to the barrel next to her – for the young demoness to see and to test if he was right about the girl.
Qiao Hui froze at that comment – turning to the opened barrels that had various melted remains of her sisters, the one closest to her had the demoness hand melted off her wrist and floating dismembered on the inky water with the claws ripped out.
The claws surely stuck in the underside of the lid in her desperate attempt to claw out.
“They are…dead.” Qiao Hui whispered out.
“Yes.” Hungry Ghost King nodded
“You killed them…” Qiao Hui continued in a distant voice.
“Yes.” The king continued matter-of-factly.
A small sound escaped the girl – not of despair, but of mind-shattering joy.
Her small giggle then turned into a full bout of laughter - absolute delighting in the absolute agony her family must have experienced in their last moments in an utterly deranged manner.
“And how does that make you feel?” Hungry Ghost King offered his hand again to the still manic girl – she grasped his hand to climb out of the shadow spring filled barrel, concern of her state of undress was no longer cared for it seemed but the king was quick to offer his own cloak to cover her small frame.
She clutched at the cloak in a giddy manner, enjoying the faux warmth his husk of a body barely offered - beaming at her kidnapper.
“I feel absolutely nothing!”
