Chapter 53: Demonization

Hearing the familiar name—waves in her chest—she forced the tremor down.
She didn’t understand what that name in a foreign age a thousand years ago could mean.
“A fine name.” She met the War God’s expectant gaze—sincere.
Anything tied to Bai Yanci was good—including a name.
“Immortal names are all two characters—I find that dull.” The War God proposed. “Why not follow mortal custom—give it a surname?”
Some odd feeling stirred in her gut.
These days with the War God felt like flowing water—gradually vivid, clear.
She asked: “What surname do you think?”
The War God smiled: “Bai Yanci—see how white its fur is—the name suits.”
“All right.” She laughed back. “It will like that name too.”
They looked at each other smiling: “It needs spirit first to understand names—how talk of liking?”
“Believe me—it will like it.”
Half a day with the War God—still hadn’t learned construction.
The art was hard—spirit body with divine power inside—she shouldn’t fail this badly.
Discouraged—but the War God wouldn’t let her go.
Excuses piled up—finally no way out—the War God gripped her sleeve: “Sister Milt, let me teach you to pin hair?”
Earlier excuses had been official. Distracted by failing construction—only then she saw the War God wanted her to stay.
“Fine.” She agreed at once.
Hands-on—it was no easier than arts.
Design student—several championships—but hairstyling for herself was weak—almost clumsy.
The War God taught patient—hand over hand where she didn’t understand.
Half a day—she learned many styles.
Deep night—the War God sent her back to Longevity Hall as promised.
Looked deep into the hall first, then: “I’m going. If your memory improves—you must tell me.”
These days the War God had truly been her friend.
She wasn’t of this age—when all ended she still had to return.
“I will.” Waving at the War God smiling. “Friend—see you tomorrow.”
Hearing that the War God looked up: “Who agreed to be your friend?”
Night hid expression—only those eyes bright—seemed to hold laughter.
Then transport array—and gone.
Cailan asleep. Alone in the bedchamber she undid her hair, sat before the mirror, stared at the pink-rose pin.
She admitted it—she’d tried to see her lover a thousand years later in the War God’s brow and eyes.
In this foreign age only loneliness and cold. Grasping something nearby was the only comfort.
And the War God felt familiar for no reason she could name.
Rare moments—almost as if Bai Yanci were beside her.
But she knew the ending—not the same person—why sink into dream.
She forced calm, sank into sleep, let tight nerves loosen.
Next morning Cailan knocked soft: “My Lord—General Diting is here.”
“Diting?” Sleep gone at once. “Why is he here?”
“What’s wrong? General Diting often comes to Longevity Hall.” Cailan worried. “This memory flare is so bad—you don’t even remember War God Palace matters—really not report to the twelve gods for the moon’s best physician?”
“It’s fine.” She asked: “Where is Diting now?”
Cailan: “He always meets you in the main hall.”
She dressed simple in familiar red robes—Cailan led her to the hall.
Diting sat in the lower seat—rose and bowed great: “Greetings, Life God.”
“Rise.” Flat.
Diting’s visit meant no good.
“Life God, my Lord found a cure for your memory illness.” Diting respectful. “Wash in Spirit Tide Pool water—filth gone—reborn.”
“One night and you found a cure?” Bad feeling—voice heavy. “Where is the War God? Why send you?”
“Mortal war unending—demons stirring—the War God is merciful—already gone to the battlefield.” Diting went on. “When she pacifies the war your memory will be fully healed.”
She looked at Cailan. Cailan understood, answered: “True. The war runs long—worse now—even touches immortal realm peace.”
No wonder last night at War God Palace the War God’s gaze was complex—silence now and then—every trick to keep her.
The War God went for her—and for all living under heaven—willing to risk life.
She remembered—the battlefield wasn’t far from Longevity Hall—where immortal and mortal realms met.
“I’ll go help her.”
Diting blocked her hand: “The War God ordered—you must not go to the battlefield yourself.”
“Her order—or yours?” She shoved Diting aside. “Battle shifts in a breath—one more fighter is one more chance. I’m one of the twelve—why cower in Longevity Hall?”
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Cailan smoothed: “General, my Lord’s illness is worse—some temper—please don’t mind.”
Diting looked at her, earnest: “How could we? My Lord and the War God both want you healed—free of pain.”
She wanted to say more. Cailan whispered at her ear: “My Lord, after the illness you sealed part of your power yourself—if you fight you’re not even an ordinary great immortal’s match.”
Meaning—going would burden the War God. Diting knew that too—didn’t say—saved face both ways.
No wonder he’d lurked beside the War God so long—deep schemer.
She refused flat: “No need.”
“My Lord!” Cailan hadn’t expected refusal. “Such a chance—the War God wouldn’t harm you!”
“My mind is set. No more persuasion.”
The War God wouldn’t harm her. Diting would.
Diting said no more—great bow—left Longevity Hall.
In the gods’ war Diting as War God Palace general was bridge between battlefield and council.
The twelve trusted him too much—irreversible result.
Days she haunted the door dazed—waiting the day the War God would appear at Longevity Hall.
When the War God came she’d bring her to the bedchamber—show off new hairstyles learned these days.
That night she finally waited for the one she missed.
The War God came dusty—natural at Longevity Hall’s gate—as if never gone.
Shock and joy—she rushed forward: “You’re back? Battle settled?”
“All settled. I’m the War God—how could they be my match?” The War God looked her over. “I found your cure—sent Diting to tell you. These days—did you go to the moon palace?”
Before she could answer: “Your face says you didn’t.”
Inside she thought: I don’t distrust you—I distrust Diting beside you.
Couldn’t say that—shifted topic: “How find a cure in one night?”
“Ah—that—I looked through many ancient texts. It will heal you.” The War God hurried. “Came back to see you—return to battle tomorrow. While I’m free—I’ll go with you.”
She didn’t refuse. The War God drew transport—in a blink beside Spirit Tide Pool.
“Spirit Tide water is the immortal realm’s holiest—wash here—reborn.”
No more doubt—she stepped into the pool.
Instantly mighty divine power flooded her limbs—cold followed.
The moon realm was spring all year—yet she felt winter cold.
Shivering uncontrollably: “But I’m so cold.”
“Cold is normal. Hold a little longer.” Soft. “I’m right here with you—nowhere else.”
Hearing that she eased—endured bone-deep cold in the pool.
Until cold wrapped her whole—divine power inside ran wild, straining bonds—wrong—she cried: “What is this!”
No answer from the War God.
She looked back—the one beside her wasn’t the War God at all. Diting.
Long beside the War God—manner and tone copied near perfect.
“You noticed at last.” Diting smiled at her. “Heavy guard—but you trust the War God completely—that’s your greatest weakness.”
Already suffering mortal beings’ negative backlash—Spirit Tide washing forced open the seal she’d placed on her own power.
Negative emotion surged—in the storm she lost control and fell to demonhood.
Purpose met—Diting spread arms and laughed: “My Lord, I didn’t lie. After demonization you have supreme power—no more memory illness!”
“You!”
“Ah, sorry—I forgot. A god’s mission is slaying demons.” Diting sneered. “After you fall your colleagues won’t spare you—especially the War God.”