The Headsman had never entered the imperial palace. The windows were long, the stained glass skylights grand, painting the crimson marble floor with colored shapes. There were few shadows, but where the light was brightest so too were the shadows darkest; lurking behind the pillars and halls, skirting the corners of the walls, away from the lanterns. A clearcut silence rested in those dark places.

Jhong entered the hall leading to the Celestial chamber. At its center, led by many circle steps, was a throne of pure Jade, carved of intricate design. Moonlight from the skylight high above fell down the seamless stonework. The builders must have hewn the Jade here, a block at least ten feet high and ten feet wide. What a waste.

The viceroys sat behind a long table, below the steps to the Celestial throne. A bearded man with purple eyes, a goateed man with orange eyes, and a beautiful woman with turquoise eyes. Immortals. They watched Jhong like impassive sculptures, gowned in fine silk that matched their brilliantly colored stares. He knew their names; not that they mattered… except for one.

“Who is this, Yan-Li?” said the man with the orange eyes.

“This is the man who gave us the city; without having to siege it,” the man with the purple eyes answered. “You’re Jhong, of the Taorin jinnto?”

Jhong bowed his head. “I am, viceroy Yan-Li. It is an honor to stand before you.”

The goateed man squinted, his orange irises gleaming with disgust. “A jinn? You allowed a jinn to see us, here?” He waved a hand. “What do you want?”

Jhong offered a smile. “I want you, viceroy Udo.”

“What is—”

Viceroy Yan-Li and the turquoise eyed woman gripped one of each of Udo’s arms. The immortal cried out, trying to stand. Yan-Li jerked his right arm backward. The woman pulled his left arm forward. Like cracking and splintering stone, his arms crumbled in their grip.

Udo screamed. His arms were now crystalline stumps, showing what was within an immortal: a veneer of humanity that cracked to reveal cold stone. The man writhed as the other viceroys bent down to hold his thrashing legs. Jhong watched with fascination as Yan-Li twisted one leg, using his own legs to crank it forward; until it snapped with the same crumbling sound. The woman did the same to the other leg. Udo’s limbs scattered on the floor like shards of shattered rock.

They lifted the wheezing immortal onto the table, its legs groaning under his weight. Jhong nodded to the other viceroys as they moved behind the throne. He waited until he heard them leave the chamber. His heightened senses could pinpoint a mouse if it squealed here. All he heard was Udo’s whimpering.

“I didn’t know immortals could feel pain,” Jhong said, stepping forward to look down at him. The man was limbless and broken. “Yet, you don’t bleed. In the end though,” he knelt to the floor, rubbing a piece of Udo's remains between his thumb and finger. “It seems we’re just dust in our final fate. Even you.”

He watched the man’s face twist with pain, fury, and loathing. There was one other thing shining in his jasper colored eyes: fear, a delightful thing to witness. Close to such an immortal, Jhong couldn’t smell any scent of the man, but he could taste his fear. It tasted like chalk, earthy and palpable.

Udo grunted. “Who are you?”

Jhong grinned. “I’m no one. But you’re Udo, the viceroy of Khitao. The Mountain Fox. You live in the city of Ghun'la, close to the Border. Your father was a war hero, and much loved by his men. The Emperor rewarded your father and his clan Jasper, making you immortal. Your father died from an ambush patrolling the border. His body was never found. You managed to survive despite being part of his guard, just you and most of your men. Leaving you, Udo, to lead the charge. But you didn’t, did you? Like a fox, you stayed in your mountain den, sending the mortal common-eyed to defend the Border. When you stayed in your castle, you were bored. So you hosted banquets, involving the families of the men you ordered to die to continue your living. They were mothers, sometimes children. Sometimes boys. You didn’t care about the mothers, though. You left them to your officers.”

Jhong exhaled. “When the parties ended, you bought the mothers’ silence with silver, and took out the tongues of anyone who tried to speak of what happened in your den. The sly fox, always thinking of how to avoid the wolves, but also thinking of his next prey. Some of them never even survived the parties. But you were cunning. You never touched any of them. They simply touched you. My mother never returned one night. I don’t think I did either the next morning." Jhong paused. "My father returned from the Border with one leg. He accepted your silver for the next banquet. Understandably, with the one leg, he couldn’t join. Only me.” The jinn took out his hatchet.

Udo grimaced. “I loved you. Each and every one of you.”

Jhong swung his hatchet between Udo’s legs. The axe's haft jarred through his hand, but he continued to hack into the man. Udo howled and squirmed and did nothing. There was no blood; just splintered steel from the hatchet’s grazing blows, and chips of orange stone.

The Headsman raised his hatchet, this time holding it with both hands, and chopped down Udo’s neck. His skin fragmented, strike after strike until the table crashed down, the immortal’s neck mostly severed. Udo’s orange eyes remained open.

Hand trembling, Jhong released the hatchet, clattering to the red marble. He looked up to the Celestial throne and sighed.

He tried to remember his mother’s name; her face. Why couldn’t he remember?

Instead, he would kill all the eyeless. He would scour away their memory, and wipe away the dust. It was the least he could do. Make them forgotten, just like they'd made his mother, lost forever and left behind. Just like they'd made him.