The Dark Moment

It was New Year’s Eve.

The entire city of Xin-Jing was vibrating with festive energy. Explosions of red and gold aether-fireworks painted the smoggy sky above the upper tiers. The streets below echoed with the clash of cymbals and the roar of the mechanical dragon parades.

Jin sat alone in his freezing, single-room apartment in the Sump. He hadn't turned on the aether-lamp. The only light came from the flickering neon sign of a noodle shop across the alley.

On the rickety table in front of him lay the pieces of his steam-erhu. The boiler was cracked irreparably. The strings were snapped.

He held a bottle of cheap rice wine in his hand, staring at the wall.

* Your music is chaotic, unrefined noise. It belongs in the gutter.*

Mei’s words played on a relentless, agonizing loop in his mind. He took a long drag from the bottle. She was right. He had been a fool to think he could ever step out of the shadows. He used his jokes, his loud music, his brash attitude to pretend he didn't care that the world had rejected him.

But he did care. He cared so much it felt like he was bleeding out. He had finally found someone who understood his music, someone who laughed with him, and he had ruined it. He ruined everything he touched.

He reached out, his calloused thumb tracing the jagged crack in the brass boiler.

He remembered the way Mei had laughed in the Night Market. He remembered the fierce, beautiful rebellion in her eyes when she had abandoned her sheet music and played from her soul.

Jin froze.

Wait.

He replayed the scene on the roof in his mind. The terror in Mei’s eyes when Shen threatened him. The sudden, unnatural shift to her aristocratic persona. The way she had refused to look at him when she delivered the killing blow.

She was lying.

She hadn't fired him because she hated his music. She had fired him to save him from Shen’s guards. She had sacrificed her own artistic soul to protect a street rat.

Jin slammed the bottle down on the table. The sudden realization hit him like a lightning bolt.

Tonight was the Emperor’s Gala. In two hours, Mei was going to sit on a stage on the Imperial Aether-Barge and play a lifeless, sterile sonata. She was going to let Lord Shen cage her fire forever.

"Like hell she is," Jin growled into the empty room.

He looked at his broken erhu. A cracked boiler couldn't hold steam pressure. It was useless. Unless...

Jin’s eyes darted to a small wooden crate in the corner of his room. A box of highly illegal, military-grade firecracker powder he had bought from a smuggler to celebrate the New Year.

Firecracker powder generated massive, instantaneous pressure when ignited. It was unstable. It was incredibly dangerous. It would likely blow the instrument to shrapnel if he played too hard.

Jin grinned. A feral, reckless, utterly chaotic grin.

"God of Inadvisable Engineering," Jin whispered, grabbing his tools. "Don't fail me now."