The sun beat down on the golden wheat field, turning the stalks into shimmering waves. KuiFong, broad-shouldered and grinning, hefted another armful of hay onto the growing haystack. "Ha! This one's gonna be a monster!" he bellowed, nearly toppling the precarious structure.

"KuiFong, be careful!" MeiEr called, her brow furrowed with concern. She carefully placed a stray piece of hay, trying to stabilize the stack. "You'll have it all fall down."

"Nonsense, little sister," KuiFong chuckled, giving the haystack a playful shove. It wobbled precariously, then held. "See? Strong as an ox!"

Just then, a high-pitched scream pierced the air, followed by a whooshing sound. Before anyone could react, a small figure plummeted from the sky, arms and legs flailing. He landed with a resounding thump squarely in the middle of KuiFong's magnificent haystack, sending hay flying in all directions.

KuiFong blinked. "Did… did a person just fall out of the sky?"

MeiEr stared, mouth agape. "I… I think so."

The figure in the haystack groaned. He was a young boy, no more than ten years old, dressed in exquisitely embroidered silk robes that were now covered in hay and dust. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone from the Imperial City, or perhaps even of royal blood.

A moment of stunned silence hung in the air. Then, KuiFong burst out laughing. "Well, that's one way to make an entrance!"

MeiEr, however, was already pushing her way through the scattered hay towards the boy. "He could be hurt!" she exclaimed, concern etched on her face.

As she reached the boy, she noticed a small trickle of blood running from a cut on his forehead. He was unconscious. "Oh dear," she whispered, checking his pulse. It was faint, but there.

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Almost as if on cue, the other villagers, who had witnessed the bizarre descent, came running. "What happened here?!" one of them shouted.

"Someone fell from the sky!" KuiFong explained, still chuckling. "Landed right in my haystack!"

The villagers crowded around, their faces a mixture of awe and concern. They recognized the boy's fine clothing instantly. Whispers rippled through the crowd. "It's… it's like one of the Emperor's children!"

MeiEr looked up at the sky, then back at the unconscious boy. "But… where did he come from?"

One of the older villagers, a woman with weathered hands and knowing eyes, pointed towards a distant, raised platform barely visible against the horizon. "The Testing Platform," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "But… they haven't used it like that in years."

Another villager gasped. "That's where they test the noble children! For… for magic!" He trailed off, his voice filled with dread.

A chilling realization spread through the crowd. The boy, so finely dressed, so clearly of noble birth, had failed. He was one of the children tested for magical aptitude. And he… he had no magic.

"They say… they say they execute the ones who don't have it," the old woman said, her voice trembling slightly. "To keep the bloodline pure. But they haven't done it in… in over twenty years. Not a living one, anyway."

Another villager nodded grimly. "Aye. They used to toss the bodies over. A warning, they said."

The villagers exchanged horrified glances. They knew the stories, whispered in hushed tones, of the Emperor's obsession with magic, his fear of those who lacked it. This boy… he was a victim of that fear, a relic of a brutal tradition they thought long past.

MeiEr looked at the boy, her heart aching. She imagined the terror he must have felt, not just falling, but knowing why he was falling. "But why now?" she whispered.

The old woman sighed. "Perhaps… perhaps the Emperor grows fearful again. Perhaps… perhaps this is just the beginning."

The villagers remained silent, fear and pity etched on their faces. They knew what it meant to be powerless against the Emperor's will. But this… this was different. This was a child, condemned to death, thrown from the sky like discarded refuse.

MeiEr gently cradled the boy's head in her lap. He was still unconscious, his face pale. She looked up at the distant platform, then back at the boy. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, but the beauty of the evening was lost on the villagers.