The day of the Snow Festival came, and Zed was concealed in the trees a moderate distance from where Lord Jizo was expected to arrive, several hours before the ceremony was slated to begin.
His location was far from ideal, but there had been no other choice – he had been ordered not to interfere with the mission, and to risk discovery by moving closer would be to put Shen in unnecessary danger. Zed suppressed a sigh and settled himself for a long wait, allowing his thoughts to wander a little even as he kept a careful watch on his surroundings.
He had always found himself more suited for carrying out assassinations than defending others from them, especially when most of the people he was supposed to protect ended up more afraid of him than of their would-be assassins.
At least Shen never had such problems, for his calm, respectful manner made him the very picture of dependability. It was easy for people to trust Shen, for despite being only in his teens he possessed an aura of quiet dignity that made them instinctively desire to follow where he lead. There was little that could disturb the tranquillity within his eyes, which were a shade of such pale blue that they seemed almost ethereal.
He had inherited those eyes from his father. Lord Kusho's own icy blue gaze had, years ago, cast itself upon Zed's childish face and seen something in those unchildlike red eyes that had intrigued him.
As they grew older and their paths gradually grew apart, Zed began to realise that Shen had changed. He no longer looked at Zed with simple brotherly affection, but something colder and more distant. It felt as though Shen was able to look into Zed's heart and judge all that was found there, or look right through him towards something that was invisible to mortal eyes.
The first time Zed had noticed the change was after Shen began his specialized training in preparation for the inheritance of his father's title. The eyes which fell on him that day had been the eyes of a stranger, serene and emotionless as though they had been gazing not at the familiar form of a friend and brother, but at just another face in the crowd.
Seized by a sudden panic, Zed had cried out before he could stop himself, and the spell had been broken. The person looking at him in surprise had become Shen once again, but Zed had never forgotten how he had felt in that moment. Part of him knew, even then, that it was only the beginning of greater changes.
It was whispered amongst the others in the temple that when Shen became the next Eye of Twilight, his soul would no longer be entirely human.
Zed often found himself staring at the ceiling at night, listening to the steady breathing of his brother on the other side of the room, and wondering why Shen never seemed even a little apprehensive of the fate that had been laid out for him since the day he was born.
.
A gust of wind blew past, and Zed shivered slightly. He had chosen to dress lightly for his self-imposed mission, as stealth was of the utmost importance, but as time wore on he slowly began to regret that decision. White clothing and minimal armour helped him to blend into the snowy background, but did little to protect him from the cold that was slowly seeping into his veins.
Zed wished he could move about more, or rub his arms to warm them, but any sound he made could draw unwanted attention. Instead he drew in a freezing breath and let himself fall into light meditation, breathing deeply but without noise.
Think of fire. A candle, a stove, a fireplace. Feel its warmth.
He closed his eyes for better concentration, but only detected the tiniest of changes in his body temperature. The meditation technique required greater focus than he could afford to give, as Lord Jizo was expected to arrive any moment and Shen must have already hidden himself in the area.
Giving the attempt up as a pointless endeavour, Zed opened his eyes.
And nearly fell right out of the tree.
Shen was perched on the branch before him, dressed only a little more warmly than Zed was, and regarding him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Zed glared as he brought his furiously beating heart back to a normal pace, mortified to be caught entirely unawares by the very person was supposed to be protecting.
Shen made no sound, but the laughter was clearly visible in his eyes. He pulled down the cloth mask concealing the lower half of his face and mouthed the words, "Having regrets yet?"
Zed had no trouble understanding him, as they had both been taught to read lips. He pulled down his own mask and, in lieu of replying in the same fashion, presented his brother with his fiercest scowl.
Shen covered his mouth with a hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Alright," he mouthed upon removing his hand. "If you say so." Then, after a thoughtful pause, he reached over and took both of Zed's hands with his own.
Zed nearly had a heart attack, but Shen looked as though this was the most ordinary thing in the world as he held the other ninja's cold hands between his larger, warmer ones. Zed felt the blood rush to his face and quickly turned his head, under the pretence of looking for suspicious activity in the woods.
Something about it all – the mission, the place, the time – felt strange.
He glanced at Shen, whose mouth quirked in a wry smile. "I'm uneasy too," he admitted, releasing Zed's hands. Zed was about to ask him what was really going on when he heard the faint sound of a carriage in the distance. Shen was on the move immediately. Mouthing a quick "See you later," to Zed, he pulled the mask back over his face and swiftly vanished without a sound.
Zed raised a hand towards where Shen had been a moment before, almost wishing he could call him back, then checked himself and refocused his attention on scanning the area for potential threats. He could hardly care less for the life of some old fart, but he would never allow Shen to be harmed when he was near.
Around him the winter wind continued to blow, but the warmth of Shen's touch remained.
.
Zed had no idea that what was to happen that day would haunt his nightmares for years to come.
Everything had been normal up to that point – Lord Jizo's arrival, the ceremony, the festivities, all had gone as it should. It was only when Lord Jizo stood to give his closing speech when Zed became aware that something was very wrong.
For the man at the podium was not Lord Jizo. Zed knew what the accent from Jizo's province sounded like, and while the accent of the man at the podium was a good imitation, the inconsistencies in his speech revealed that it was ultimately false.
Just as he arrived at that realisation, two attacks were fired in quick succession from somewhere within the woods. One was aimed at the imposter, and the other at an unassuming old man in the crowd.
Zed cried out in warning, but Shen had already moved. He deflected the throwing knives of the first attack with ease, then dashed in front of the real Lord Jizo and – when it seemed like the flurry of arrows were about to embed themselves in his body – formed a barrier of pure energy. The projectiles bounced harmlessly off the shield and fell to the floor, and Zed could breathe again.
Shen was breathing hard, clearly exhausted by the effort that had taken, but he had succeeded in defending against both attacks. Zed leapt nimbly down from branch to branch, eager to rush to Shen and check him for injuries.
He noticed the trap bare milliseconds before his feet hit the ground.
Strange symbols appeared all around him in an instant, beginning from the snow-covered ground beneath his feet and quickly spreading onto all the trees in the area. The symbols were unfamiliar to him, but he could guess their purpose: to keep him there so he could not escape the incoming attack.
Surrounded on all sides by those strange, purple-black things, Zed knew his only possible path of escape was up, and he leapt immediately – or tried to leap, as an unknown force had grasped him by the ankles and held him down so he could not escape. He looked down and saw they were dark, wispy tendrils of an unknown substance, which was the same purple and black shades as the symbols that had materialized around him. Something about their appearance gave off the impression of being almost intangible, yet the grip they had around his feet was entirely unrelenting.
Zed could not see his attackers, but knew full well that they were not far behind him, and closing in quickly for the final strike. Even in the few seconds he had left he struggled against his restraints with all the fury of a caged animal, slashing wildly at the things which had immobilized him.
But his blades were useless against those tendrils.
He wanted to call out, to scream his rage so that all would know he was defiant to the last, but something had silenced his voice. Was he really going to die like that, unseen and unheard by anyone? Was he really going to die before he had fulfilled even one of his dreams?
Zed heard the assassins' blades cutting through the air, like whispers carried away by the cold winter wind.
He reached a hand towards the place he had last seen the only person he truly cared about.
Don't leave me behind.
.
He heard the sickening sound of blades sinking into flesh, and saw fresh blood spill across the pristine snow, yet there was no pain. Instead he heard a voice – the voice of the person foremost on his mind – let out a cry of mingled pain and defiance, and then his bindings shattered.
Freed from his restraints, Zed whirled around to see what had happened—
And the sight which met his eyes was one he could never forget.
It was Shen who stood before him, and it was Shen's blood that painted the ground. He had put himself between Zed and the assassins, and shielded his brother with his own body.
There had been no time for anything else. It was already a miracle that Shen had made it there before the fatal blows could land, appearing next to Zed as though he had materialized out of thin air. No one had expected his intervention, and for the span of a few heartbeats everyone stood frozen in place.
Then Shen coughed, blood staining his mask a dark red, and staggered.
Zed caught him before he hit the ground.
He noticed, distantly, that his assailants had fled the moment Shen began to fall. He pulled down Shen's mask so he could breathe more easily, only to see more blood spill from his brother's lips.
Zed was covered in blood, but none of it was his own. It was on his hands as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from the most grievous wounds, on his clothes as he held Shen close to him and screamed until his throat tore for someone to send for help, on his face as he buried his tears against his brother's shoulder and pleaded for him to survive.
Shen coughed again, breaths coming short and shallow, and spoke the words so softly Zed half thought he had imagined them.
"I won't leave you."