He sat on the building ledge, watching the salvage crews swarming over the site. They’d been at it for two and a half hours now, bringing out bodies, equipment, and wreckage. Cao Jian sighed pensively. Mindlord and his followers were manipulative, honorless men to be sure…but he had to admire what the man had built and created with his iron will. He’d carved out a small empire with strength and determination, and it seemed wrong somehow to watch the salvage crews treat the debris like so much garbage.
Jian shook his head in exasperation, sparing a glance at the darkening sky. This was foolishness. The man would have ground the world beneath his heel, and reduced it to ash just for the sake of some twisted vision. Cao Jian didn’t regret his part in ending the threat, but he just wished he knew what to do now. He was born and raised in the Cao martial tradition. The fight was all he knew, and his greatest joy. Now, he was a warrior without a war, and only two broken swords to his name.
He grimaced and looked at the broken blades as the nearby streetlights began to turn on, beating back the approaching dim. Jian had reclaimed his swords when he broke out of the Zig so long ago, and they’d served him well. However, over time, they had seen much use, and the strain of the battle earlier was finally too much. He supposed it wouldn’t be difficult to find new swords. However, what to do with them afterwards? He leaned back against the building, and fingered the hilts of his shattered swords.
“You brood a great deal, my warrior.” The feminine voice to his left shattered his reverie, and was accompanied by a tingling sensation and a faint odor of ozone. Cao Jian swung his legs up and around, smoothly assuming a kneeling position. He briefly touched his forehead to the ledge in homage and replied, “I cannot argue that, noble Tian-Mu.” His patron goddess accepted his kowtow with a small, pleased smile and the barest of nods. Her pale face was beautiful, perfect. Terrifying. Her almond-shaped, sapphire eyes regarded her kneeling subject with interest.
“You paid much honor to me today, Cao Jian. Your battle was worthy of your clan, and our pact. You have defeated your foe. Yet, you are still not happy.”
Jian paused for a moment, and said, “With my enemy gone, I am unsure what to do now, Mother of Lightning. I need your guidance.”
Tian-mu shook her head, the motion causing the tiny silver bells in her black hair to ring softly. “You still do not understand. I demand only your homage and loyalty. You have chosen in the past to honor me through battle, and I have been pleased. You fight in my name, why should I care who your enemy is?” She studied her kneeling warrior, frowning. “However, it seems you are without a weapon.”
Cao Jian bowed his head, explaining, “My swords shattered in the last battle, Mother of Lightning. I was forced to continue the fight with a stolen baton. That, too, broke in battle.”
Tian-mu nodded absently, and gazed out over the city for a long moment. She finally turned back to the kneeling Cao Jian, and smiled. “You told me that your clan has served me for centuries. What do you know of me? Tell me this, Cao Jian.”
He blinked, surprised at her sudden question. He struggled to remember what he’d been taught. “You are the one who brings the lightning, while your husband Lei-gong calls the thunder. I have been taught that you command the lightning with silver mirrors, and it obeys you without question.”
Tian-mu nodded, “Attend me closely, my warrior, for I shall teach you more of myself now.”
The air seemed to crackle, and in a flash of blinding white light, she was cradling a mirror in her arms. It was oval-shaped, about four feet high, and appeared to be made of the purest silver. Jian blinked, trying to restore sight to his eyes. Gradually he could see again, and regarded the mirror with unabashed awe.
Tian-mu gently set the bottom edge of the mirror on the ledge by her feet. “Behold, my warrior. One of my silver mirrors with which I make the lightning dance as I will.” She swept a hand lightly over the reflective surface and flashes of lightning trailed in her wake, caressing her fingers. She smiled warmly, “Magnificent, is it not?”
Jian murmured reverently, “All that and more, Mother of Lightning.”
She looked to the mirror, and picked it up again, holding it lightly with both hands, “It seems so fragile, and yet the only thing in creation that can shatter it…is I.”
And with that, she whirled, and swung the mirror hard against the building.
The silvery glass shattered, and for a moment it seemed to Cao Jian that the world had ended. An intense, terrifying bolt of lightning leapt from her to touch the cloudy skies, arcing angrily from cloud to cloud. He’d quickly turned his face away and closed his eyes, but even still his eyes watered. The lightning rippled over his skin angrily, but not harming him, though he still feared to move. It seemed to go on forever, but finally it was over.
A few moments passed before he dared to open his eyes and turn to face Tian-mu. He whispered hoarsely, “W-Why?”
She regarded him gravely, and selected two long shards of glass from the broken mirror. With a nonchalant wave of her hand, the worn hilts of his broken swords leapt from the ledge beside him, whirling through the air to hover before her. “I have other mirrors, my warrior.” She held the glass pieces aloft, and they began to glow with a light all their own, growing brighter and brighter until it obscured the hilts.
After what seemed like forever, the light faded slowly. Jian stared, awestruck. In each hand, Tian-mu held a long, curved, single edged sword seemingly made of the same silvery glass as her mirror. She softly kissed first one blade, then the other. With a mysterious smile, she deftly flipped them both, offering them to Cao Jian hilt-first.
“Rise, Cao Jian…and accept these swords to use in my name.”
He rose, slowly, and moved to accept his goddess’s gift.
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