6 – Shadow Puppets

Yomi got comfortable in the chair across from me, and I could feel the subtle magicks weaving in the air around her. She held her hands aloft, strands of shadows hissing off her fingertips like smoke rising from a doused campfire.

“Way of Shadows: Puppet Theater.”

Darkness engulfed us as a swirling shroud, and in that darkness I could see forms outlined. Little cutouts of humanoids, against a backdrop of a crude little village. A puppet show of shadows and light, dictated by Yomi’s power.

I raised a brow. “I fail to see how this would be helpful for an assassin.”

“You’d be surprised,” Yomi replied, shrugging. “Sometimes an assassin needs to go undercover to get close to a target. Being able to pose as a humble conjuror, an entertainer who can get people to lower their guard with tricks such as these. Now hush up and let me work.”

And so I did. I leaned forward, watching Yomi’s little puppets as they went about their business. Chopping wood, fishing in a stream, tending to their buildings...

“It was an age of peace in Tsukio. Where the emperors of Cathaya were beaten back across the sea to lick their wounds, and the people of the eastern archipelago had formed an uneasy peace with us. In those quiet years, as Tsukio’s emperor strengthened and rebuilt the nation, a great darkness was gradually blossoming in the underbelly of the world.”

The shadows swirled, the scene shifted, producing some kind of darkened cavern lit from the bottom by a swirling ember of orange flame. Something took shape, a great bestial thing with many horns and colossal tusks sprouting from its lower jaw.

“This was the era in which the Demon King was born. A yokai of immense power and natural potential, unlike any of his kin. He festered in the dark, taming the tribes of yokai that had been broken and scattered by the sects. And gradually, in secret, he built an army encompassing all the yokai of our land.”

Shapes rose up beneath the shadow of that massive looming head. Horned, misshapen things of every size, all bowing in deference to him.

“A king of demons, huh,” I murmured to myself.

“Indeed. Nobody knows quite where he came from, or why he was so naturally powerful... but back then people weren’t concerned with the how or why. They were more concerned with trying to survive.”

I watched the shadows swirl, the illusion reshaping into the city Yomi had originally shown to me. Only now it was ablaze, and the little puppet people were running back and forth in absolute terror. The larger pagodas melted away, shattered apart by the arrival of the Demon King’s horned head. He loomed over the city like some giant dragon.

“Of course, people back then did what they could to fight him off.” The whirling shadow shifted, and the little puppet show produced a long line of armoured spearmen who jabbed and thrust their weapons at the Demon King. “The Emperor of Tsukio summoned his army. This was the same great host that had thrown the Cathayans back across the sea, and tamed the horse people of the Steppe. Yet..”

One by one the shadow spearmen dissolved away.

“They were not enough to withstand the Demon King. And as the Emperor’s army was pushed back more and more, he reached out to the sects for help.”

The scenery shifted, into a series of mist-shrouded mountaintops. On each peak stood a silhouette in an elegant flowing robe.

“Of course, the sects ordinarily don’t concern themselves with earthly affairs. That’s simply the way of things when it comes to cultivators. Even if the Cathayans were to sweep in from the north and conquer Tsukio, the cultivators would not care so long as the invaders did not seek to impede on them. But yokai are a different matter entirely, an existential threat even to them. And it is not an exaggeration to say that most sects utterly loathe yokai on a fundamental level. So, for all their usual bickering, the sects of Tsukio were united in common cause against the Demon King and his army.”

Those robed figures rose up, forming a vanguard as the Demon King’s horned visage once more dominated Yomi’s shadow play. I found myself leaning in, my attention rapt... I’ll admit I was a little embarrassed, getting so engrossed in the show.

Suppose it proved how good Yomi could be as a performer.

“And yet... even with all their power, and all their number, and all their techniques, and all their wisdom...” The robed figures fell, one by one, and that monstrous visage loomed undaunted over all of them. “Even this was not enough to overcome the Demon King in a battle of raw strength. And so the wisest among the cultivators agreed to do something else. If they could not kill the Demon King, they would seal him away, Without his power, his influence, the yokai would be in disarray. It was, they reasoned, the only way to halt their army.”

The shadowy cultivators rose back to their feet, beaten but unbroken, and when they held their hands aloft they produced several flashes of orange flame.

It was the first time I saw the Demon King’s head shift, his jaw opening wide in what must have been shock. His head twitched and shuddered, leaking smoke everywhere, and then he suddenly collapsed into an obelisk of jet black stone.

“The Demon King was sealed. His army scattered. And the land of Tsukio was able to heal... but the scars of the Demon King War were hewn deep into our land, and our hatred of the yokai became a stronger fervour than it ever had before.”

The shadows melted away, and once more we were together in the kitchen. Yomi exhaled a small sigh, flexing her fingers a few times. “Shoot. There’s more of a strain to that than I remember.”

“Alright. So the Demon King got sealed away by all the old cultivators. And then... how does this tie into all the shit we’ve been going through?”

“Negative human emotions are a power that yokai can tap into. Pain, anguish, strife... All these are things they can absorb. And the idea, such as I understand it, is that if they amass enough of that power they can break the seal. At least, they believe that. And the yokai have been playing at this game for the past while now, after they finally managed to reorganise under new leadership.”

For a moment, I thought of home. What would happen if Novos lost and died? There were plenty of bastards under his rule. He’d surrounded himself with wicked wizards, deranged conjurors, torturers and murderers, glorified bandits masquerading as soldiers...

The Novosian Empire, even if defeated, wouldn’t die. It’d probably shatter into a bunch of different groups, under as many different leaders. And sooner or later one of those bastards would come out on top, claiming the toys of Emperor Novos for themselves.

An irritating notion.

“So people know this is the aspiration of the yokai?” I asked.

“They’re not subtle about it,” Yomi replied. “But they’ve been at this for a while and Tsukio is still in one piece. Plus, last I heard, the seal is hidden away and not many people know where to find it. Outside of the most powerful sect leaders, who are the kind of bastard who would sooner die than speak their secrets.”

“Still...” I worked my jaw. “It’s a dangerous fucking situation to have in your country.”

Yomi grinned lopsided at me. “What’s life without the odd thrill?”