20th Bell, 3rd Day of Hai, Month of Gui, 457th Year of Emperor Qiang Heiyao’s reign

Guided by the light of ten full moons, a young woman stumbled up the frozen forest path. Her belly was swollen with child. A battered leather satchel hung off one shoulder, the straps worn thin. Both the woman and her tattered dress might have once been called beautiful, but her hasty flight through the wilderness had left them ragged, dirty, and bloodied by a thousand scrapes and cuts. She clutched the scraps of the garment around herself, shivering and taking shaky breaths that fogged the air.

Just a little farther, and her journey would be over, her mission completed.

She stretched out her perception to the spirit of the world, sensing the flows of energy running through the forest around her. They were sluggish in the depths of winter. Casting about the trees around her, she found her target a mile up the path. Jiangning Village. The small farming community was nestled into the sharp crook of a river valley, high mountains ringing it all around.

She extended her senses further, searching. To her spirit, the frozen river felt like a bucket of ice-cold water running down her back. The fallow terraced fields were like the memory of a rich, earthy scent. The village homes radiated warmth and comfort deep in her heart, and she felt a pang of grief for her lost family. But this was not the time to mourn. She could do that after she completed her mission.

The woman narrowed her focus, inspecting each house carefully to find one suitable for her purposes... there: a young mother nursing a newborn infant girl. The father seemed sturdy enough to care for one more child. It was hard to tell with mortals, though; their spirits felt like indistinct smears of color barely distinguishable from their surroundings. So weak, the woman thought. But that was the point. Her child would be safe here— safe from the court, safe from her heritage, safe from the hunters. She shivered again, this time not from the cold, and redoubled her pace.

Soon, the woman arrived in front of the home she had picked out. It was a humble cottage, built from cedar with a thatched roof. Its small windows, facing out to overlook the silvery sheen of the river below, were shuttered tight to keep out the cold. She wanted nothing more than to collapse right there against the doorframe, but she pushed through her exhaustion as she had done again and again for the past months trekking through the wilderness. She gathered the shards of her shattered spirit together, preparing herself. The energy felt like hot knives scraping through her broken channels, but she didn’t trust the weakness of her mortal form to complete this final task. Steeling herself, she strode forward and knocked on the door.

There was a pause and some hushed conversation inside, then:

“Who’s there?” growled a man’s voice.

“This one is a traveler from distant lands. Please, this lowly woman begs your hospitality.” The woman tried to make her voice sound as meek and innocent as possible. It wasn’t very difficult; she really was at the end of her rope.

“How do I know you ain’t a demon? It’s the longest night of the year, lady. You know you ain’t supposed to let strangers in tonight.

“Please, this one is just a simple traveler... have mercy on this poor mother. This one seeks only a place to rest before continuing my journey.” She added a trembling sob to her voice. At the same time, she spun the energy in her spirit into her hands, through the wood of the door, and directly into the man’s head. 

The energy dispersed into a diffuse cloud to fill the man’s skull, rendering him more pliable to suggestion. It would be shameful to call such a pathetic trick a spiritual art, but it was the best she could do in her crippled state. It should be enough to influence a mortal, at least.

“Please… you need only keep me for the night. This one will depart at dawn.”

A few breaths passed in tense silence. There was no wind or other sound to distract the woman from the sinking feeling in her heart. Had she fallen so far that even a mortal would be able to resist her? Every second without a response stretched into an eternity.

 “Well…” the man began slowly, “I can’t just leave someone out in the cold like that, longest night or no. If you are a demon, I’ll run you out of town myself.” Finally, the door opened a crack. A muscular, swarthy man with long, matted black hair peered at her from inside. His eyes widened as he took in her wretched appearance and swollen belly. “Jiazhang’s balls, woman! Did you pass through all five hells on your way here!? Come in, come in! I’m surprised you ain’t dead from the cold, wearing rags like that.”

The man opened the door further, ushering the woman inside. The interior was simple, just one big room for the kitchen and a curtained-off sleeping area. But she wasn’t complaining. She stumbled over to the hearth and collapsed on the packed dirt floor, groaning in relief at the first source of warmth she’d felt in days.

The man handed her a cup of water ladled from the kitchen’s barrel, and she took it gratefully, the liquid soothing her parched throat and chapped lips. Then she turned to him and bowed, head pressed to the floor.

“This one thanks the honored master of the house for his hospitality. This worthless one regrets that she does not have a gift to repay the master’s generosity, but as she has fallen on hard times, she begs forgiveness for her discourtesy. May this lowly guest be so impertinent as to ask her redoubtable host’s name?”

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The man took a long moment to decipher the overly formal language. “Oh please, I’m just a farmer. You don’t have to do any of that ritual crap here. The name’s Dai Hong. What about you?”

“This one is named Wenjing,” the woman responded as she slowly came up from her bow.

Dai Hong raised an eyebrow at the lack of a clan name. He was starting to piece together the story. “So, Miss Wenjing, what’s got a young lady like yourself traveling through the mountains in the depths of winter?”

“It is this one’s great shame that she does not have a home of her own to shelter in.”

“Family threw you out, huh. That got anything to do with the little one there?”

Wenjing grimaced. “Yes. It was a youthful indiscretion. This one was forced to choose between her clan’s honor and her child. Even illegitimate, this one could not give up her child.”

“Well, I can certainly relate to that.” He turned to the curtained-off back room. “Mingxia, you can bring Hanmiao out now. I’m pretty sure this poor lady isn’t a demon. Miss Wenjing, allow me to introduce my wife and daughter.”

A young woman, just as well-built as her husband, emerged from the back, carrying a swaddled infant. When she saw Wenjing’s sorry state, she dumped the baby into Dai Hong’s arms and rushed over to examine Wenjing.

“Hong, what in Jiazhang’s good name have you been doing out here!? She’s pregnant, for the First Moon’s sake. The least you could do is feed her before you start digging up every detail of her past.” Mingxia began to fuss over the guest, grabbing a dishrag and dunking it in the water barrel to start cleaning the blood and grime from Wenjing’s dirt-stained face. Wenjing was too tired to protest the motherly treatment.

Dai Hong reddened. “Hells, Mingxia, I was about to do that. I just had to make sure she wasn’t a demon first. You know a demon would never tell you its name.”

“You and your demons, Hong! If a demon got through the village wards, we’d all be dead before you could so much as open your mouth to ask its name. Now go put Hanmiao to bed and get me the leftover rice porridge. Oh, and grab one of my extra shifts while you’re at it. This dress is more holes than fabric.”

In less than five minutes, Wenjing was cleaned, fed, and reclothed in a linen nightgown. She was honestly impressed by the farmers’ efficiency, and even allowed herself an ounce of regret about exploiting them for her mission. But no, she had come this far already. It was too late to turn from this path. 457 years too late, to be exact.

Only after she had gotten settled on a woven straw mat, with a rough blanket and the remains of her dress as a pillow, did Mingxia ask her any questions. Dai Hong had gone to bed, clearly worn out from playing assistant to his wife. The farmer woman sat across from her on another mat, nursing her daughter once more.

“So, Miss Wenjing, you mentioned you were a traveler. There aren’t many villages further into the mountains. There certainly aren’t any that a woman in your condition should be traveling towards in the middle of winter. So, I feel I should ask; where are you headed?”

“This one had intended to seek the Northern Outposts to start her life over in the spring. They say there is work for any who wish it on the frontier. But this one realizes that her goal was a fool’s errand. The mountains are impassable during winter. Thus, this one has been traveling from village to village to wait for the thaw, begging hospitality all the way. It is shameful to admit, but this one must feed herself and her child somehow.”

“Nonsense. There’s no shame in that. No self-respecting person would let a pregnant woman sleep in the cold. I know it’s not my place to judge, but your family really was cruel to disown you, no matter how much you dishonored them.”

Wenjing wasn’t so sure. Ignoring the fact that her story was a lie, her family had done much worse to their own in the past. The branch clans constantly jockeyed for Imperial favor. Families rose and fell in prominence from one day to the next. Assassinations were basically guaranteed when the time to decide succession came around. To Wenjing, her cover story would have been a merciful fate compared to the mission she had been assigned. 

“And you’re welcome to stay here until the thaw if you want. We’ve got plenty of rice to spare from last year’s harvest. One more mouth to feed won’t be an issue.”

“Oh, this one couldn’t possibly impose on your hospitality for that long—”

“It’s just rice and a place to stay. It’s the least we could do. And don’t even think about leaving tomorrow morning without letting us know. I may be dead tired from caring for Hanmiao here, but I’m still capable of dragging you back myself.” 

Wenjing had no doubts about that. Both Dai Hong and his wife were freakishly muscular for mortals. And even if Wenjing had been at her full strength, she would not have underestimated the stubbornness of farmers. 

“You really are too kind. Even the sages could learn from your example.”

“Ha! Tell that to my husband. But I’m sure you’d do the same if the positions were reversed.” Wenjing wasn’t so sure about that. “Well, you must be tired. I’ll leave you to get some rest; we can talk more in the morning. Wake me if you need anything.” With that, Mingxia rose and stepped back into the curtained area, leaving Wenjing alone with only the company of the crackling hearth.

Slowly, quietly, Wenjing opened her satchel and brought out the pill that would guarantee her family’s revenge. It was a horrid thing, a glistening blood-red orb that gleamed wetly in the firelight. A shadowy embryo pulsed to an infernal rhythm at the orb’s center, and dark, violent thoughts rose to the forefront of her mind as she watched it dance. Wenjing quickly averted her gaze. The alchemists forced to produce these pills had all gone mad in the refining process. Every single one of the ingredients used to create it was forbidden under penalty of death in all five provinces of the Empire. If she were to swallow it, her child would be born possessed by a demonic spirit. The monster would tear through this village like wet paper and devastate the countryside for hundreds of miles around before anyone strong enough to stop it could arrive.

It was time for her to choose: complete her mission or die. Wenjing was aware of the stakes. She hated the current dynasty. She knew that the peace these villagers lived under was nothing but a lie constructed by that hypocritical Emperor and his ilk. Her family had been slaughtered like cattle and the people thanked the Emperor for it. Better they die a swift death by her hand than live under his oppressive rule. It would be mercy to end their misguided lives.

On this night, all throughout the Empire, her sisters would be making the same decision. Staring at the same pill, wondering if revenge was worth the cost of an unborn child. Choosing between becoming a mother or a murderer.

But she knew, from the moment she took the first step on her long journey to this far-flung village, that she could not do it. Wenjing hardened her resolve. These people did not deserve to die; her experience this night only provided further proof. Her child did not deserve to be turned into a weapon. However much she hated the Emperor, she could not punish innocent people for his crimes. Wenjing sat by the hearth for a long moment, savoring this last moment of peace.

Then she tossed the pill into the flames. It crumbled to dust with a soft wail, the demon within powerless to defend itself without a host.

As if waiting for this moment, the birth pains began. Dai Hong and Mingxia startled awake to the sound of Wenjing’s agonized screams. The birth was forced, unnatural, staining the dirt of the small house with a river of blood. Through the red haze of pain, Wenjing was dimly aware of Mingxia’s voice, panicked and filled with concern. She felt rough hands prop her up, supporting her frail body as her consciousness slipped away.

Wenjing knew the labor would kill her, and her child would be damned to die, wasting away before his 20th year. This was the price of her weakness, of her kindness, of the betrayal of the oath sworn before Heaven and Earth by all her sisters. But she smiled in spite of the pain; her true mission had been completed. 

For on this last hour of the last day of the year, under the light of ten full moons, the last scion of the Zhao clan was born…

Nameless, cursed— but free.