Chapter Text
Despite Hwei’s benevolent spirit, all he ever knew was what it was like to be an outcast.
Born in the heart of Koyehn, he was set up for greatness since his first day on Ionian soil. He was to inherit the Temple, an ancient and prestigious academy of the arts.
However, the four masters of the temple seemed to be troubled in the presence of the young genius.
Hwei was different from his peers.
More intuitive, more emotional, far more dangerous.
His unique abilities were something that no one knew how to control, not even Hwei himself. No matter how much the young artist tried to indulge in the dark corners of his mind to try and push the limits of his power, something always held him back. Maybe his subconscious telling him to slow down or stop, or the guilt from the accident that happened when he was barely thirteen.
Too young to take responsibility for something he didn’t ask to be born with, but old enough to know better than to endanger the lives of masters, as well as his own.
After the unfortunate accident, Hwei put up a facade.
It was to keep the peace, but the young student would often get that unbearable itch that could only be scratched by letting the dark thoughts spill out on the canvas before him. All the pent-up negative emotions would spill out in the middle of the night—anger, anxiety, hopelessness, sadness.
Everything started to feel like a burden and it often overwhelmed him. To Hwei, his abilities were simultaneously a blessing and a curse. Empathy helped him stay in the light, never letting the painter get too close to the darkness brewing in his heart, helplessly scratching against his ribcage, hoping to escape one day. By understanding people’s feelings just by looking at them, Hwei could create paintings no one could. While others had trouble bringing emotions forth, it all came naturally to the magicborn.
But during the night, when no one could make the painter out on the golden beach of Koyehn, he silently cried. Suppressing his emotions was to no avail since his eyes changed to colors of the coldest hues—twilight blue, dark indigo, pine green.
Some days, the ability to feel everything so strongly felt like a curse.
The gift of his powers was not worth the loneliness, alienation, and estrangement.
All of that changed when he met Khada Jhin.
The man endowed with mystery seemed to intrigue the painter’s mind. There was something that no one else could provide him with—a challenge.
No matter how much Hwei tried to focus on the bleak eyes of the artist, it seemed impossible to make out a single, comprehensive emotion behind the light brown irises.
Being in the presence of Jhin didn’t overwhelm Hwei, instead, it provided him with some long-needed rest from everything he used to feel all the time. While spending time together, the painter no longer felt suffocated by his misery. Hwei’s eyes never settled on one color when talking to Jhin—all the hues reflected in his colorful irises, going from red to blue, green to yellow, and back to purple just for the never-ending cycle to repeat.
The long days spent together turned into even longer nights spent talking about all forms of art. Music, painting, performance. Jhin’s uniqueness completely absorbed Hwei’s thoughts and after some days, the painter had trouble focusing on anything else other than the man.
As hard as it was for Hwei to read Jhin, it would’ve been a lie to say it was the same the other way.
Jhin could see behind those ever-changing eyes since the first day they met. All he saw was a repressed soul—someone trapped in the vicious cycle of day and night. During the day, Hwei kept up the mask that was expected of him. The responsible, endlessly talented, and well-put-together heir of the Koyehn Temple. At night, he seemed to be a helpless, lost man, looking for some kind of relief from everything. The light inside him didn’t seem warm and peaceful, it just felt like a prison. Hwei let the darkness inside him consume everything for those short, somber nights but the next morning, the cycle began again. Night and day, light and darkness.
No matter how much the painter wanted to hide it, Jhin saw everything. He saw how Hwei struggled and he wanted to set him free. Not just temporarily, but forever.
This was what kept Jhin close to Hwei.
Fantasizing about the day he could reach into his chest and rip the darkness out, letting it consume everything.
As the weeks passed, they grew closer than ever. Hwei never completely confided in Jhin, but once got very close. Sitting in the dimly lit room in the middle of the night, the atmosphere seemed perfect to let it all out. However, the painter had trouble getting even a word out, so he just strengthened the grip on his brush and continued to paint the still life he began in the morning.
Jhin knew he was close but not close enough. He underestimated just how resilient Hwei was.
That’s why he used everything he learned about Hwei to orchestrate the attack he unleashed on the Temple.
Jhin knew which historical paintings Hwei loved the most, so he destroyed all of them. Painted them red with the blood of his victims, and ripped the canvas with the same knives he used to kill his masters.
Jhin mutilated the bodies of Hwei’s masters, one by one. Carving skin and flesh so roses arose from the corpses. After all, he was aware of the painter’s love for flowers.
By the time Hwei woke up, Jhin was long gone. Only flames and destruction were left behind.
Seeing all the destruction, Hwei felt himself spiraling. All the darkness that he held back for more than ten years was threatening to break free. He felt disgusted and nauseous from looking at the mutilated corpses but couldn’t bring himself to look away. The flowers blooming from the dead bodies were captivating and no matter how guilty Hwei felt, he kept staring in both horror and awe.
The sick and twisted excitement of something so dark, yet so beautiful took over him. After Hwei left the Temple, he kept painting all that he saw that morning. The bodies, the destroyed paintings, and the dome of the Temple were eaten alive by red flames.
Hwei was always honest with himself. Genuine with his emotions, thoughts, and feelings. However, even when he kept telling himself that he was painting these horrible pictures to process the tragedy that he was forced to live through, he knew it was a lie. He kept painting so he could remember all that he saw. Wanting to keep the memory of that morning, to remember how freeing it felt finally letting the darkness completely take over, even just for a little while.
Even if the tragedy of those days were behind him, Hwei felt scared. The darkness that he held back for so long wasn’t barren and bleak. It was very much alive and this frightened the painter. The thought of awakening something that could never be truly held back again was anxiety-inducing, so Hwei let loose just to get rid of this feeling.
He painted night and day, letting the worst parts of him be painted on a canvas. Colors were thrashing against each other, every wave of emotion strong enough to force the painter on his knees, his hands squeezing his temples so hard his fingers turned snow white. Slim bands of tears were shining on pale skin, his eyes rapidly switching colors every few seconds. No matter how much pain he had to endure, he couldn’t stop. It was addictive, and it gave him much more euphoria than any drugs or alcohol could.
The most unbearable emotion seemed to be the grief surrounding his relationship with Jhin. Hwei didn’t just mourn the loss of a person but also a connection that happened to be one of a kind. The painter truly believed that what they had could never be replicated again, no matter how hard he tried. Even months later, it seemed to be impossible to let anyone else get that close again.
The ability to seamlessly connect with people’s feelings weighed heavily on Hwei’s shoulders once more.
For almost a year, Hwei didn’t return to Koyehn.
The thought carried so much anxiety and guilt that the painter could barely bear it.
He kept painting and painting but all the brushstrokes took him back to the island that he left behind months ago. In every shade of blue, he saw the light blue waters of the shores, and the golden beaches of Koyehn reflected in every dot of yellow. The memories came flooding back and Hwei couldn’t resist.
After entering the abandoned temple, he realized how much bleaker the building was than on the morning of the attack. The bright red flames hugging the pillars were long gone and the bodies of his former masters lost all the colors to them. The brown hue of the dry blood was disappointing to see, as was how nature had begun to take the deceased bodies back. Bright green leaves started growing around the cold, stiff limbs, decorating them in their ways. However, Hwei hated seeing this. It differed from his memories of the beautiful, bloody composition with red flowers carved out of flesh.
Everything that he saw differed from the painful memories but he didn’t immediately leave. Hwei knew he needed closure and to achieve that, he needed to rip open all the wounds he had, so they could heal properly. The painter had to hurt himself to finally get over what happened months ago.
While looking at the destroyed paintings on the lowest floor, his eyes caught something. A tiny, only a couple centimeters wide lotus flower.
Suddenly, all the repressed memories came flooding back.
The long walks in the mountains close by.
The nights spent together.
The gentle, almost weightless, seemingly accidental touches that never felt real.
Hwei felt his knees giving out so he slowly let himself on the ground. With shaky hands, he reached for the flower but couldn’t bring himself to touch it.
The sudden feeling of utter betrayal weighed heavily on his shoulders.
Looking at the flowers brought back feelings of guilt that should have already subsided. Hwei understood the message left by the artist. Jhin was always calculated, never letting himself be controlled by sudden waves of emotions, unlike the painter.
If the lotus flower was there, that could’ve only meant one thing.
Hwei tried standing up but every bit of his strength betrayed him. He fell to the floor and before he knew it everything looked blurry. The beat of his heart grew hastily and taking breaths felt like a chore. Tears started quickly running down his pale cheeks, falling on his clothes. The panic had set in and Hwei felt like he was drowning in the sea of his own emotions.
The weeks after felt like a mix of dreams and reality. Hwei was shifting in and out of consciousness with only one goal in mind – to find out why Jhin had orchestrated the attack that pushed Koyehn into chaos and death. The painter looked around every corner – from Ionia’s darkest forests to the ever-busy marketplaces.
When kindness led to a dead end, Hwei used his powers to torture information out of people who had the knowledge he needed but refused to speak. By inflicting the horrible visions he had to endure on them, words started spilling out of their mouths like water from a cliffside. Hwei felt guilty but not because he felt for those who suffered at his hands – he felt for himself. The painter didn’t feel bad for resorting to rather immoral techniques, but the lack of guilt is what ended up awakening guilt in him. He mourned his empathy and kindness.
After weeks of continuously connecting what little information he gathered on Jhin, he found a lead. The trail that the old man mentioned led to an old, abandoned monastery. Without a better idea, Hwei blindly believed what little he could cling to.
Slowly opening the door to the small church, he felt his hands shake. Just the thought of finding the man he’d been looking for was enough to make him feel weak in the knees. He had to lean against the dark brown wooden plank of the door to support his weight.
Tall pieces of painted glass decorated the inside of the building. The moonlight shone through the colorful glass, creating the most beautiful painting on the white, marble tiles of the monastery. As beautiful as it was, Hwei’s eyes just sought one thing.
For the longest second in his own life, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.