A/N: Rewrite 3.1. The story is finished and will be updated at least once a month (because of the current lack of time and will to live and totally unpredictable schedule). Check every 15 days.
Read & Review, please!
SUMMARY: War of Wings between White and Black winged Angels ravages the Heaven. A more subtle war of White Crane against White Snake is going on in the mortal world. Surja's brother, Motou Kiyoshiel, the Wingless Angel, is caught in the middle of it all. Everything from his past suddenly tracks him down. His strength is needed. Will he find a good enough reason to fight the memories he left behind?
THE WAR OF WINGS
Lifebreath … all living creatures have it. It is known by many names. But no matter what you might call it, it is a part of us all.
A part of you.
A part of me.
Not many, though, are physically aware of it.
Some are learning to reach for this mythical force within. They do so with meditation, trying to gain control over it and by that, control over themselves. And while you only reach for the Lifebreath, swivel it around, you can call it enlightenment. But take one small fragment of Power within yourself and use it up - make it physical, embody that control - and you become one of us. One of the Qi-wielders. And such achievement can become genetic. If you live long enough to actually have any offspring. For usage of Qi makes you tap into the ancient well and that consumes you without a question. Turns one into a primal thing, where battle is our life and our life is a battle.
The easiest explanation of this is simply that Lifebreath comes from Heaven, where a war between Black and White-winged Angels rages eternally. The War. Coming consciously into contact with excess of their strength makes a blood run hot, body charged up and mind narrow. Only provided with special training can you keep ahead with the urges to make war yourself. Death and destruction are constant companions in such a life. It becomes a struggle of wills - the need to fight, against the wish for normalcy.
Some have it harder than others. I managed to break through the want for violence.
Great warriors are born from our kind, training providing us with wisdom and self-control beyond our age. The greatest can even reach the ultimate discipline over their Qi - called ascension. Taken to the Sky, to fight as one of the Angels. But that world and its rules are beyond my comprehension. Unspoken might know more about that, but as their name suggests, they do not really speak of it.
We fight our battles, until we die or learn how to live without. To overcome the need that Power gives us, we train our minds and bodies - to use and suppress, to balance. To try to live an everyday life. The life that I chose.
But my own battle is not that which I wish to speak of. But that of my beloved. He is called a hero by the youths. He is called a weapon by his superiors. Among his peers, he is known as a walking legend, a myth of the Wingless Angel in the flesh. Amount of Qi that of an Angel … trapped in a mortal body. Spending Power he was filled with ever since he was filled with life, and he will continue to use it up to his very death. He doesn't need to absorb it from his surroundings to survive like an Unspoken, nor to just refresh himself as a normal Power-wielder.
He is one of a kind.
I, however, call him my brother. My family. Motou Kiyoshiel is his name and he deserves the peace he so desperately sought. He sacrificed himself without a thought. He fought, spilled blood, was betrayed … He went through terror after terror, until he managed to leave the wars behind. Feeling his tribute to them was finally over. Feeling he now needed to stomp out that desire; that need to use Qi for combat. And he somehow managed to live this way. He really did. At least for four years.
Until that week came …